FO: Fern Glade, and the New Year

pattern: Fern Glade
designer: Megan Marshall
origins: Knitty
yarn: Manos Silk Blend (300M)
needles: US 4 and 6, circs

I don't think I have ever begun knitting a zine pattern the same season it was released. But I clearly have now, and I love this hat-- a rare thing to hear from someone who doesn't love hats as a rule. The pattern was an easy repeat over several rows, very intuitive to pick up. The silk blend shows off the texture very well, I think.

Of course, recently it's been too warm to wear hats, so it's been warming my dresser drawer.

Tomorrow's February first. I can't stand New Year's resolutions (they're so... annual), but I have been thinking about the fate of this blog. I've had a series of small crises over the past half year, and it's shown, in the ration of knits to posts. I'd like it also to be about more than "Hey knitters, see these pretty things I made?" but it's hard to make it more than that when you a) suffer from a surfeit of hobbies and b)don't have the time, hobbies aside, to sit down and work out a longterm plan.

I'll take suggestions. If I can't come up with a long term plan, I'll probably quit the blog (well, not entirely, as there's a couple free patterns available on it), just because I hate seeing things languish and fizzle. But we'll see. I think I'm motivated.

Hello, September

I stepped outside this morning to take these pictures and the sky was evenly grey from one end of the horizon to the other-- that kind of pale mist grey that probably won't rain on you, but just might. Nothing irregular, but there's been a definite autumn twinge in the air for the past week, even when it's sunny and technically warm out. Fall's coming in a little quicker than normal.

I love this weather. I do feel like I didn't get a summer, though; I barely made use of my fan at all, and it's probably safe to pack it into its box for the year and pull out the space heater. My apartment walls didn't lose their natural cool until nearly the end of August.

I can't say whether Frida Kahlo* would have embraced this weather as much as I do, but she certainly posed patiently while I attached clothes pins to her and found a good backdrop. I was feeling headachy yesterday so I stayed at home and cut some cheap chiyogami paper into strips that I glued and sealed onto the pins. I might go find a varnish or lacquer later, but the craftstore I went to didn't have anything I was certain wouldn't discolor the paper.

*If you get a chance, go see the exhibit of her work that's traveling around right now. It's a good sampling of her art and shows a lot of the mixed media effects that you can't see in reproductions-- she often painted fresco style or on metal, and occasionally made frames part of her paintings as well. It's also accompanied by some comprehensive photo galleries about her life and her acquaintances.

Things As They Are

I do not seem to be doing enough with this blog. This is by and large because I've been busy with things of little concern. To keep you distracted from that, let me share this with you:



It's a little needle felting kit on sale at the store I work at; locally made and perhaps a little overpriced for what it contains, but with very clear photographic instructions. I think I'll be making this one up for my dad (it was either the penguin or the hedgehogs).

Now I am off to find out what is burning in my oven and finish unpacking all my luggage (friends, if ever traveling with me, book a separate flight so you don't have to hang around while my baggage is searched. Again. Just in case.)

When There Are Just Too Many Choices In Life

I am the kind of person who gets annoyed in grocery stores because she's been asked to pick up a bag of chips for a party, and then soon after finds herself standing in an aisle lined wall to wall with not only twelve different brands but a hundred different flavors among them. Often this results in panic and departure without chips, followed by a trip to the tiniest gas station convenience store known in the hope that they will only have two or three varieties.

I used to think that meant I had some ingrained taboo against variety, but that's actually rather far from the case. In fact, if I don't get enough of it, I get a little rabid and start developing nervous twitches and a sudden yen to travel miles on foot.

This has been damaging my creative life recently. I multi-task as a matter of due course, so it's pretty typical for me to have two or three knitting projects and two or three active fiction pieces going all at once, and maybe a linoleum block print under the knife, too. My hobbies abound, but I'm used to it, and once one of the stories/knitting projects hit critical mass, I stop working on the others until I've finished that one.

Not right now. Oh god, not right now. My life has been stalled by too many options. My knitting queue is all a tangle. Example: the yarn I wanted to use for something of my own design would look simply splendid in another pattern, unlike the yarn that I was actually going to use in that other pattern, which is for all other practical reasons perfectly good yarn well-suited to that design, but it's just not striking me the right way even though it did two months ago when I chose it after three weeks of deliberations for that design. And, of course, that yarn would be sadly inadequate in the design I have planned. Now, take that example and multiply it by three different sweaters.

To top it off, this problem is so painfully irrelevant in the long or short of things that it's embarrassing just to admit to it.

But! I keep knitting.



Pattern: Clover
Designer: Kate Blackburn
Source: The Inside Loop
Yarn: Happy Feet
Needles: US1s

A quick and pleasant knit. I didn't have any conflicts about this one, except now that it's done, and I'm no longer certain it should be the appointed partner sock to the Fruitloops sock I finished in antique denim Claudia handpaint.

That said, it's a good pattern and was a fun knit. It should not be blamed for my indecision.

The Fall

The weekend before last, I went with a couple friends to see The Fall, which is beautiful, sometimes slightly hair-raising, and highly recommendable.

Today, I carried home a bag full of pale periwinkle/lavender Kathmandu Aran. The two are quite linked.

That said, late spring still thinks it's winter here. "June-uary" is being bandied about, and the description is not terribly far off. Right now it's dark out for the time of year (it should be light until nearly 10) and the wind's blowing hard outside the windows. I did manage to take some pictures Saturday, though, so I'd like to introduce you to the esteemed:



Pattern: Fruit Loops
Designer: Kristi Geraci
Yarn: Claudia Handpaint Fingering, Antique Jeans
Needles: US1, dpns

Right now this sock is all alone in the world. I'm feeling a little out of balance right now, so I'm going to "match" it with a sock done in a similar lace pattern but in very fiery red Happy Feet. That said, this was a nice, straight-forward, not too fussy pattern. The Claudia fuzzed a little on me, but not badly (although I had to reinforce a couple segments due to negligence). I really like the look of this sock, although the stitch pattern was repetitive enough that I probably won't knit it again, unlike, say, Fire-starter or Mad Color Weave.

Ce n'est pas une pipe

It's not knitting, either, but I like it. Pendant made from one sliced shell (species?), about three inches of wire, one misc. small watch part/gear, created pearl (black), and of course various clasps, rings, and cord for the necklace itself. I keep thinking I should make more jewelry; maybe this is a start (and then, I suppose, I will rename my blog something like "The Pinko Bitch Tinkers...")

Overdone is In Vogue

I've had a lot to do, and not that much time for blogging, nor much good weather for taking photos (which is as well, because I'm inching through several sweaters, and progress of an inch or two a day really isn't worth recording).

But we got the Spring issue of Vogue Knitting in at the shop earlier this week, and I feel the need to publicly announce, for the record, that I don't understand it.

Well, no. I understand that Vogue is all about a lifestyle; what I don't have is a frame of reference to understand (by which I mean appreciate) that lifestyle. Most of it is a class thing, and the rest of it is an East Coast thing. Not being of a certain class native to the original 13 colonies, I simply can't make myself enthusiastic about themes of summer houses, prep schools, and polo.

Therefore, I don't buy Vogue. I still glance at it every season, because I've become something of a fashion geek (an inattentive fashion geek), but I don't care for the themes, and there's not much in there that I'd knit for myself.

But I'm feeling horribly, wretchedly, delightfully catty about this season's themes. No pictures, I'm afraid (that would probably involve numerous copyrights, and I'm lazy), but you can get a gander here.

Where should I start expressing my distaste? I found the entire issue overly sentimental and tacky, except for a couple pieces I found WASPishly bland. But the "African safari" theme in the Ecologique session took the cake. Vogue's tendency of cramming its black and asian models into "exotic" themes lacks imagination, is often trite, and has a veneer of 19th century World Fair.* But you have to look at the eyes of the model in the faux-African textile tank. I love her expression-- as she stares, her eyes might as well flash semaphore for "You're doing this without any hint of irony, aren't you?" at the editorial staff.

note: I will admit that I gravitate toward Vladimir Teriokhin and Norah Gaughan as usual, but it took a couple times flipping through the zine before the safari theme dimmed enough from my mind for me to appreciate them.

*They don't always do this, but if there's a bit of Orientalism in the magazine, you can bet there's an Asian woman wearing it. Likewise if they're pulling out the big-game hunting guns.

Aune, Completed

Maybe, at some point, I'll get pictures of me wearing this-- but that will have to wait until I have an ally-in-photography. I'm sure I've blogged about this before, but it took me awhile to get the gumption to not only knit but crochet together all the hexagons, so I'll go on at length about it; it's the Aune Skirt from Norah Gaughan's first collection. As usual for her knits, I worked it about two sizes smaller than my actual size, and on smaller needles.



I also shortened it by one tier of hexagons, because the original length would have fallen to mid-calf on me. All well and good, really, and that would suit the style of the skirt generally... but skirts that length have the downside of making me look about half my height. So I avoided that cruel fate.

It's good to have a major project ready to wear now; I'm working on three at the moment, and it feels like none of them are getting done.

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Now, due to some foolishness precipitated by a half-off fire sale at Hilltop in the Queen Anne district, I can now add Matilda Jane (by Ysolda Teague) to my queue.

I am never going to a 50% sale again. Ever. Crowd around and let me tell you why.

My reason for going was innocent: walking around Queen Anne sounded like a lovely thing to do on a Saturday morning before the shopping crowds woke up. Nice yarn at a sweater-worthy prices sounded like a perk, too. So I showed up on foot at 10:20, expecting to get a cup of coffee and promenade around the area a few times.

Except there was a line stretching down the front stairs. Strange. Well, I got into line, pulled out a sock, and remarked to the woman nearest me, "I hadn't expected this."

"Neither did I," she said. Apparently no one in the entire line had expected it, even when it stretched around the block. Seeing trendy 20-somethings queue up with matrons (dowdy and not) and the rare man caused traffic some confusion. We were asked if Barrack Obama was showing up in town-- in jest, but we were still asked. A fire engine slowed down, rolled down its window, and a guy called out, "Is this a fire sale?"

So the shop opened at 11. I was near the front of the line, so I got in quickly, and realized only a little while afterward that, well... there was no line control. EVERYONE was coming in.

By the time I realized this, there wasn't an escape route. So I stuck with the crowd. I couldn't get into parts of the store because they were blocked off by bodies, and I couldn't get out because, well, people were getting in. I did find things on my shopping list (the afore-mentioned yarn for Matilda Jane), but that was entirely by accident (the finding, not the list-- I always have a list of what projects I want to make, the yarns they call for and the gauge and composition in case I find a replacement at a good price), and then I found my way into the check out line, which took a good half hour to move through.

In short, it was completely, ravingly mad in there. The joy of it, I suppose, is how nice people were. There was no use of elbows (there was pushing, but that's because we were packed in like pickles), and everyone was astoundingly polite: "I'm so sorry I bumped you," "I'm not really feeling you up," "Oh, that wasn't your foot, was it?" "You dropped this!" "Oh, here, if you're looking for another skein in this color..." were just a few of the intentions directed at me. At one point, as I was maneuvering through a door, a woman turned around, smiled at me, and showed off the Shibui she'd found. I'm glad there was so much good will in there.

I think I was probably the only asshole there, and that's only by virtue of me being direct. I'd see someone in the crowd and say, "Hey! I want to be where you are. Should we switch places?" and so on and so forth, and briefly there was a chant following me from one end of the main room to the other: "There she goes! There she goes!"

And there it is. Madness.

In Which I Throw a Tizzy

I majored in history. It's something I take very seriously. This means that I occasionally do peculiar things: I study old furnaces and watches in search of date of manufacture; I often laugh aloud during dramatic moments in historical films; I've made the not-to-be-repeated error of discussing trench warfare in the bedroom (boys do not find this as charming as discussions of the shenanigans of French urban explorers). Also, lazy research can send me into a blind fury.

Please, behold this religious image of the Virgin Mary knitting:



Now, please examine the following text from the introduction of The Knitting Man(ual), by Kristin Spurkland:

"People across Europe were employed in the knitting cottage industry, primarily outputting socks and stockings for the wealthy classes. (para) Surprisingly, these early knitting professionals were unquestionably men. In the beginning, knitting was a strictly male endeavor, and remained so until the Industrial Revolution mechanized production. While both men and women followed knitting into the factories, hand-knitting at home began its transformation into a feminine art..."

I call bullshit. Moreover, I call bullshit on five key points:

Firstly, the Virgin is not admiring her boyfriend's knitting in the above-featured 15th century altarpiece panel by the Master Bertram. The creation of this painting rather pre-dates the Industrial Revolution, as do many other depictions of women knitting.

Secondly, both men and women have knit since, well, the dawn of knitting, although who knit what and why varies depending on era and country. Sailors and goatherds, and others who spent a lot of time waiting and watching (soldiers in the trenches I'm not supposed to talk about) often knit. As did women who had a lot of other things to do with their time, but also needed to clothe their families.

Thirdly, the author seems to have confused cottage industries with knitting guilds, which for several centuries (like most official professions) employed only men. Cottage industry often employed whole families; everyone from toddlers old enough to sort colored thread and buttons to grandparents would take part.

Fourthly, a case study: the early Lowell's textile mills in America. When the mills first started, they tried to hire almost exclusively young, single women from rural backgrounds. The idea is that women could be paid less than men, and women isolated from their families were less likely to make a fuss about wages or hours. And, when mills were rare and the wages comparatively high, it's true that they didn't. That didn't last long. I encourage you to google Lowell's mill women. When men and women did work in factories, the work tended to be gender segregated.

Fifthly... "began its transformation into a feminine art"?! Not only is that patently inaccurate, but it paints a very Victorian middle-upper upper-class picture, with women only knitting christening gowns and dainty gloves... because knitting practical garments like socks would indicate that one needed to work for a living. Spurkland's introduction ignores the realities of knitting, and trivializes women's history with it in the interest of making it appealing to men again.

Pant. Pant. Sigh.

By contrast, review the following brief excerpt from Michael del Vecchio's introduction to Knitting With Balls:

"People knit because they were poor (and cold) and the politics of gender had little to do with it."

What a nice and concise way to briefly acknowledge the nature of knitting without needed to give people a wildly inaccurate history lesson. I approve.

And to think, this came about because I wanted to tell people about some of the devices I like to see in knitting books. Maybe later.

One of those days...

Ever had one of those days where you just... lose something? Where you know it's not really gone gone, but it's skittered off to some hidey-hole where you won't find it until you stop searching?

Uh-huh. I'm having one of them right now. There's a pristine little gauge swatch on my ironing board as we speak, but... my stupid friggin' measuring tape is off having a night on the town (I assume).

Measuring tape, if you're out there-- whatever I said, I didn't mean it. Just come back.

At the Gates of Madness

I've posted pictures of this before; it's the most popular pattern I've written for the yarn store. I've taught approximately six classes based around it (it teaches knitting on two circs, cables, kitchener, thumb gussets...) in the 5 months I've worked there. One of the women who took the class a couple months ago came in today, and told me that she's knitted seven pairs of these since the class.

This leaves me, which I think perhaps may be understandable, feeling validated.

Seven pairs.

Speaking of the shop, yarn has been awfully exciting lately. We donated a bunch of yarn we've stopped carrying, and brought in loads new more stuff... several series of Sublime yarns, Queensland Kathmandu Aran (a lovely tweed, soft enough I might even knit with it), Happy Feet, some new Jo Sharp yarns, some crimped baby camel... we also (finally) got in the 01 (white) color of Urban Silk. I'd been hankering after that since Skacel gave us samples of it, but it was on back-order for a long while. I've had a pair of gloves stewing in the back of my mind for months, and they will presumably be quickly reproduced in that.

Sock yarn has been too enchanting to me recently. I haven't been buying, but ah, the temptation when we got in some bamboo-silk-superwash blends. Somehow this sock lust has percolated from the back of my mind into one little, obstinate thought: what law mandates I knit socks in pairs? What's wrong with one-offs, as long as I have enough one-offs to alternate on both feet?

This way lies madness.

Of Many Things and Holidays

I visited my family on the cusp of Portland, OR for the holidays. This, for those of you who don't know Portland, means one thing: yarn.

Well, it means a few things, actually. First of all, it means I spent a week with family. We keep things very simple (I've had it insinuated that our version of simple is "cheap"), and this year I either made things myself or bought handmade. More the latter, actually: I find more and more that I'm particular about who I knit for, since I've made a share of things I feel are unappreciated, even if they were specifically asked for. I know that's a popular sentiment right now, and I have to hold to it: knits are not for everyone.

Please ignore that I spent a day crocheting an enormous piece of bacon for a friend who may very well never wear it. That was different. I'll get pictures eventually.

This is about Portland, and yarn. The last of which, I didn't buy any of... well, okay. One skein whose originator I'd never heard of before. It will make beautiful socks. But I did go to two stores, and spent a great deal of time contemplating shelves of fibers with a sober face.

My first stop was at Close Knit. Close Knit is by far and way my favorite yarn store*-- friendly, helpful staff (who flattered my cowl, and I'm a sucker for flattery); cozy, crowded but not impossible to maneuver; great diversity of books; the gamut of yarn.

That's where I bought the sock yarn. I can't really go into that store without buying something. Guilt factor, mostly, after taking up an hour browsing and chatting (I'm also very goal-oriented when I shop. I don't browse well. Window-shop? Hahahaha). The diversity of yarns is exciting... they carry a number of brands I don't usually see in Seattle, and range the gamut from fairly cheap to qiviut.

The other store was Knit/Purl, closer to downtown. The staff offered the usual faintly indifferent front to a young knitter; I don't find that unexpected and wouldn't have noticed except that they (gender-neutral singular) greeted my non-knitter mother who came in a bit after me. Don't get me wrong, there was no rudeness-- I'm simply not someone they expected to drop money.

Which is what the store is going for. Money, that is. By which I mean they're trying for an upscale front. I could feel it from the layout-- so spread out that the square footage felt decadent. Not many places to sit. A mechanized swift (is this a mark for or against?). Generally "upscale" yarns (Tilli Thomas, Blue Heron, some interesting Schaeffer hand-dyed, lots of cashmere, etc). Very few general standbys, and nowhere near the diversity of Close Knit.

However, when they carry a brand, they carry it very, very thoroughly. I've never seen that much Tilli Thomas, Shi Bui, or Habu Textiles in one place. That was truly impressive. I've never seen Habu steel in the flesh -err, cone- before. There were Noro colorways I hadn't known existed. They also have a nice kit collection. It's not a place that will make my regular stomping grounds, although it and I will likely cross paths again, but it was well worth the look and a good place for someone who likes diversity of colorway and doesn't mind paying for it.



Now, I actually don't have a knitting book collection. I mean, I own a book on calculating my own socks (the esteemable Cat Bordhi, of course) and the Stitch and Bitch I bought when I was a knitter in Lion Brand swaddling. There's about six magazines on top of that, and a staple-bound Norah Gaughan collection. I generally don't buy patterns unless I adore them in a way that's a little unseemly.

However. I've had a fixation with the Japanese standard of craft patterns. I've never knit off one before, but I've read through enough to find that they appeal to my mechanical aesthetics: diagrams! step by step visual tutorials! Pictures of the very skeins the pattern calls for. And did I mention diagrams?

Yeah. That's why I bought these. Now, I like the patterns as well, mind, and have a few of them slated toward people I know, but the deciding factor here was a crochet diagram that I randomly flipped to and don't actually really want to work on.

*I don't count the one I work at in this equation, as that tips scales unfairly.

Irrational Coveting

Six months ago, if you had asked me about something I irrationally covet, I would have thought for a minute and then said: pillow mints.

And I would have been dead serious. I cannot be trusted around pillow mints. I don't keep them in my house because I will eat them all in a single sitting. I can't be left sitting next to a bowl full of them. If there is a bowl of them across the room from me, I will eye them like a lost puppy. If it's a bowl of peppermints, or yogurt-covered pretzels, or brightly foil-wrapped mix chocolates... eh, who cares? But pillow mints. My god.

But no, that's nothing. This, now, this is irrational coveting:



(Blue Heron Cotton Rayon Seed, left, and Mercerized Cotton, right)

I walk into these every day I'm at the store. We received more today, and I got to pet each skein as I squeezed it onto the shelf.

It's a bargain, for what it is-- the mercerized cotton, especially. But suffice to say that it is expensive, the colorways aren't often ones I'd wear on my skin, and I am not a shawl person (which is the first thing that pops into mind for the mercerized cotton, which comes in 1,000 yard skeins).

Still, I want this yarn. It is something that will sit publicly displayed on the top of my stash for years, and I still want it. More than that, I want more than just one. I want them all, even that nearly florescent lime green (it doesn't show to its full potential here) that will make me look red and sweaty even when I'm not red and sweaty.

That's all-- I just had to share.

Knit Macabre

The Wallingford Center (where Bad Woman Yarn is located) has a tidal rhythm: people come in, people go out. Often they come in to get cupcakes. And then they need to get yarn. And then they go out. It's a reliable tide-- whatever little moon is orbiting privately around the building, it's locked in a regular orbit.

So, there are times when there are people in the store. This is most of the time. But this isn't about that time: this is about when there isn't.

The time when I've stocked everything that's come in. The time when I've combed out and re-wound every messy hank, chased down all the stray skeins and returned them to their cubby holes, straightened all the needle racks, moved everything we want to move, checked to see if we're low on anything and when we can get it in. The time where I sit there, with whatever store sample I'm busy working through (hint: current WIP involves one skein Keltic. Last WIP: mini-sock for the tree that's part of the holiday decor), and knit uninterrupted.

Today in particular, I was flipping through the lace volume of the reissued Harmony Guide. It's a good reference; I'm probably going to buy one of these days. But that's not what got my attention today, really.

Catherine Wheel is what got my attention.

Catherine Wheel, for the uninitiated, is a lace pattern. Basically an organic circle. Like a one-dimensional knit tumbleweed. A little bit different.

It is also -this is what made me drop my dpns- a torture device. Used in medieval Europe and Russia. The executioner would tie a person to the spokes, break their limbs with a blunt object, and then either a)leave them to die slowly of dehydration, etc, or b)kill them quickly. It's called a Catherine wheel because a Christian saint (not clear on details, just iconography from an art history class) named Catherine was, well, predictably martyred on one. My response:

a) grotesque.

b) a knitter from a bygone era just reached through time and smacked me with a stitch pattern from an era when it was acceptable to name day-to-day motifs after torture devices (admittedly, probably with religious and not macabre intentions in mind).

Still grotesque, but much more historically interesting.

But now I'm curious about how many other knitters have picked up on that. I mean, not everyone has read Geoffrey Abbott's "Execution." And not everyone should, either, especially if they're squeamish.

Finishing

Gypsy Scarf (made from 3 skeins of N.Y. Yarns Gypsy)

Just the result of me playing with picked-up stitches; I rather like the effect. Finished it some time in October, but dallied in finding a spot to photograph it.

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I spent a few minutes today mending a small tear in the pair of fingerless gloves I knit for a dear friend... going on four years ago, now, I think.

This is noteworthy to me just because they've lasted four years... the average longevity of his fingerless gloves, be they machine-knit or leather, is about 3 months. This says something about the survival threshold of handknits.

Here's to another four years.

My Spinnerets

My life currently has a surfeit of minor inconveniences, including the demise of my camera's batteries. Judging how quickly I've replaced my watch battery (3 weeks and counting...), it may be a few days before I pick up more. Maybe I'll buy both at once!

This is a pity, because I did have plans to show off the extremely (accidentally) slubby results of my first attempt at spinning bats I've actually carded myself. I did not do a terribly efficient job on this set-- or rather, I don't know enough about blending artificial and natural fibers in the raw to know how they react together.

And I'm also just not terribly good at spinning, partly because I've never really bothered to pick up an official book on the subject.

But that ignores that the yarn is still rather lovely (several shades of pink and lavender, with a few darker streaks and some funny white rayon bits. And glitter), and enough for a modestly sized project. I probably won't ply it-- just too bulky and irregular, except for the lengths which are the weight I was trying for (light DK).

Ah, hell. Fine. I'll go get batteries this weekend.

And it's off to work we go...

Hi ho, hi ho...

I probably won't make a habit of posting LYS samples here, unless they please me exceptionally. I have to say, my rendition of the Formal Boot Bag from BagSTYLE does come close-- I'm excessively proud of myself for sewing things on flat. My hand-sewing skills are not what one would consider impressive. Sure, I have my buttons down, I can yarn together a seam... and that's where I like to leave it.

So, I'm proud of myself here. It took quite a bit of time to sew that knit segment around the felted bag without making it pucker. Not only will it stay in place, but it looks passable, and the store's received several compliments on the bag. It bloats my ego every time.

Which leads to my other ego-bloating point: pattern vindication! I posted about a pair of convertible fingerless gloves awhile ago; they've been getting attention. A woman bought the pattern today, and two others signed up to take a workshop on them. My ego is now approximately double the size of my stash (fortunately ego is solider matter, or I don't know where I'd put it).

The Yarn Pornagraphers: Senseless Decadent Stash Expansion

Look at this and say it doesn't make your palms sweat. All that dirty nasty yarn naughtiness.

Counter-clockwise from the top: one Knitscene (snagged the last copy, largely from curiosity), 1,330 yds super fine alpaca, dark grey; 1 skein Nashua for swatching; a(nother) skein malabrigo lace weight in pearl. Because, well, two skeins are a project and a half. Three skeins... two projects.

Alright, I confess: all of them have purposes. And they were a bargain. So it's not all that decadent or senseless. But I felt like a march hare making off with enough yarn for a wrap and then some.

FOs sooner rather than later. I'm re-purposing my blog somewhat. I have a surprise in store, too.

The Origin of Suffering: material goods

I did a noble thing this week-- I stared long and hard at my stash, and then I picked up a large bag and started piling in skeins. All said, about a third of my museum.

Cheating, slightly: about half the bag was taken up by the mondo-skeins of Jo-Ann Sensations. I tell you, that yarn is immense like it has something to prove. There were about a dozen other skeins of various providences, re-purposed or unused or little bits of both.

So, I did a good thing; I gave to a friend and made it possible to walk to my closet.

But it had a downside: This has made it very hard to justify not buying new yarn.
Behold my latest purchase; two skeins Malabrigo lace weight, color "pearl." I've never encountered lace-weight malabrigo before, and I must say that this is very fine stuff. Soft and smooth and with lovely hints at darkness despite being such a pale colorway. I have utterly no idea what I'm doing with it yet; but more to the point, I don't care. Its loveliness defies purpose. It's like... well... a clock that's all jammed up but someone took off the cover and hung it up on the wall just to see the gears. Arrested in a stage of splendid uselessness that may some day obtain purpose.

To think that this malabrigo came about because I wanted to pick up some Noro, either for Klaralund (if I could find the pattern book as well), or for an adaptation of the obi from the Norah Gaughan collection. I went to the Weaving Works, and had the best experience there that I've had since... well... a few years, at least. They've hired a young woman about my age, and we chatted shop and our love of the above-mentioned collection. It was entirely pleasant.

In more utilitarian dimensions, I also have enough Cascade Fixation to make a nice stretchy shell/tank. I need to get to sketching that out.

Knitting As Art

Knit XXV
Originally uploaded by goshdarnknit

I'm en media res on several knitting projects right now, at that point where there's a lot of action but not many photogenic results. More about that later, though: I was browsing etsy (I've been told I'm not alone in needing to close my browser quickly to avoid purchasing stuff) and spotted a painting by Rania Hassan on the main page.

The whole series is delightful. I'm something of a fan when it comes to the kind of knit art that gets gallery exhibits; I like peculiar shapes and strange materials and social commentary. So humor me and check out Hassan's blog and etsy.

Now then. About those projects.

To some chagrin, I've decided to quit the dreaded Vogue capecho. No matter how I play with the pentagons, it's going to be ungainly blocky in the bust, and I can't get away with wearing it. Yes, I knitted 9 of those before I figured that out... and oh, those pentagons were fun to knit. My desire to knit exciting things and my desire to wear slightly edgy, possibly even sexy things don't always mesh as well as I like to think, though. That much is clear.

I have a pair of socks on the needles. A sweater for my sister, my design. A crochet afghan. Also, today I cast on for Norah Gaughan's "Anais," in black. I like in progress photos (within reason), so you're likely to see a few if the weather humors my camera.