Color Does All the Work

Not long ago, I stumbled across a Kaffe Fassett profile in Let's Knit Magazine. (It's well worth the read, so I hope you'll take time to check out the link.) 

I've never knit one of his designs, but I've admired his work for longer than I care to admit. Like countless others, I've always found his jubilant use of color inspiring, albeit a bit daunting with all those ends to weave. Much of what he shared in the profile resonates, but one quote really captured my attention:

Because my main interest is colour I feel no need for fancy stitches like lace and raised textures. The colour does all the work, particularly in good pattern structures ... 

Whew, what a relief! 

While I admire and respect knitters who delight in intricate shapes and complex lace or cable designs, these are not the things that continue to fascinate me after decades of working with needles and yarn. 

Instead, I'm drawn to designs that feature simple shapes, subtle textures and a focus on color. I'm not now nor shall I ever be in Kaffe Fassett's league, but if pursuing these qualities is good enough for him, then it's more than good enough for me.


To see all posts related to color, click here.

Angles Are Attitude

From a dashing hat worn at a slant to knit items worked in triangles and diamonds, there's something jaunty and appealing about angles. That may explain why lately I've been captivated by this quote:

Cock your hat, angles are attitude. ~Frank Sinatra

Once I started thinking about it, I began seeing angles in some way, shape or form in a slew of projects past, present and in the planning pipeline. 

On the accessory front, for example, there's Alaris, which features four diamond panels and can be worn multiple ways.

Dojeling, on the other hand, combines triangular wings with a center diamond panel for a classic triangle shawl worked in an easy but non-traditional manner.  

Then there's the Grey Daze wrap, with its off-kilter kite and angular wing shapes, which produces a longer, more shallow triangular profile that's versatile and easy to wear.

Angles abound in afghan world, as well. Angletyn, for instance, features a series of classic chevrons writ large ...

while Flashpoint is composed of over-sized triangular components accentuated by raised seams and trim.

With its bright, cheerful rainbow shades, Valere sports a parade of triangles that resemble colorful banners ready to wave in the next breeze.

Then of course there's Herlacyn Heatwave, my current afghan WIP, which uses a series of diamonds and triangles to create a modern take on the classic harlequin design. Here it is, in all its unblocked glory:

With so many angular projects in use or underway, you'd think I'd be over this obsession, but subtle and sweet or bright and bold, it's hard to argue with Sinatra. Angles do indeed have attitude, which is precisely what makes them both fascinating and fun.


Looking for the patterns? Valere, with its cheerful rainbow banners, has been released, and Herlacyn and the Grey Daze shawl are in development. To see all available patterns, click here.

The Might Could List

Might could.

It's a phrase packed with wonderful possibilities, isn't it?

This lovely linguistic gem comes from the American south, where it surfaces in various ways. As a statement, it can confirm something will happen: Yes, I might could do that. It can convey agreement without actually making a commitment, thus leaving some waffle room: Yes, that might could happen. In a question, it often takes the form of a gentle, understated request that's hard to resist: Might could you do this for me?

I've been thinking about the power of might could, because it's the perfect phrase for knitters. Or perhaps, it's simply the perfect phrase for this knitter.

For example, I might could seam my Angletyn afghan this week.

I might could strive to get better photos of Alaris, my cape-poncho-shawl-wrap.

I might could cast on a new project.

Or, I might could cast on two.

Where a to-do list often feels rigid and demanding, the might-could version is upbeat and inviting. Plus, it inherently offers a little wiggle room, which for me definitely adds to its appeal.

So that's it, my Might Could list for the week. What's yours?


To read more of the Might Could story, see Might Could Works.

Where Fiber Meets Fingers

National I Love Yarn Day (ILYD) is October 17, so consider this your early warning.

Mark your calendar and make plans to enjoy the occasion in true fiber fan style. This weekend is also the Rhinebeck Sheep and Wool Festival, but since many of us won't be able to attend, one of the best ways to celebrate is to visit our favorite LYS.

This is on my mind because through the marvels of Ravelry, I recently had an interesting exchange regarding the symbiotic relationship among yarn makers, yarn dyers, yarn buyers, designers and LYS owners. As part of that discussion, I commented that LYS owners ...

occupy that unique space where fiber meets fingers. You know what appeals to your customers, and you’re the ones who face the challenge of guiding them through the process of matching the right yarn and needles to the right patterns and vice versa.

The designer/knitter/yarn maker/seller relationship is complementary and when these factors come together, a little magic happens and everyone wins. As an added bonus, fiber folks are a generous lot, so loved ones and strangers frequently gain something too: 

• A welcome-to-the-world baby blanket
• A comforting shawl for a nursing mom or someone dealing with difficult challenges
• A warm afghan for those who are frail, ill or simply far from home
• A cozy hat, scarf or pair of mitts as a reminder we care
• A small handcrafted coaster or cloth to make someone smile

It's easy to participate in ILYD, just visit your local yarn store. Inhale fiber fumes, pet some yarn and connect with those who share your passion. Find the perfect yarn and pattern so you can create something special. Take along a stubborn stash skein and pair it with new yarn to make something fresh and delightful. Indulge in a coveted set of needles. Work on a WIP or cast on a holiday gift. Teach someone to knit, attend a class or master a new stitch.

If you knit, crochet, design, dye, spin, weave or work with fiber in any way, it's likely your LYS plays a pivotal role in your creative endeavors. Celebrate your craft by doing what you love with others who love it, too, in that unique space where fiber meets fingers.


Connecting with the linkups in the sidebar.

Frog It with Flair

The times change and we change with them.
Latin proverb, sometimes attributed to Ovid

We all know I'm deep in the throes of an afghan addiction, the proof of which can be found all over this blog and on Ravelry.

My afghan obsession represents a change from the past because for a very long time, I thought of myself as a sweater knitter. It was a reasonable outlook, since for many years that was where I focused the majority of my knitting time, efforts and yarn dollars.

A few years ago, back when I was primarily a sweater knitter, I spent a healthy chunk of an extremely hot, sticky summer knitting a modified version of Flair by Wendy Bernard. It's a nice, versatile pattern.

Working on this cardigan, however, taught me many things:

• Top-down construction is clever and convenient.
• Top-down, one-piece sweaters are basically blankets with sleeves.
• Top-down, one-piece wool sweaters can be cozy to work on in January but sweltering in June.

If you recall this project at all, it's most likely for one reason: My talented friend Robin took some lovely photos of the FO. The sweater is nice, but as you can see by the examples below, her pictures are dynamite. (To see more of her professional work, go to Robin Feld Photography.)

Recently, I took a careful look at the cold, hard facts, an exercise that was quite revealing. This is essentially a three-season cardigan, but over the course of a couple of years, I’ve worn it exactly zero times.

Nada. Never.

Why?

It turns out one-piece raglan sweaters are extraordinarily unbecoming on me. This fact has led me to a difficult but logical determination: It’s time to frog the frickin’ thing.

I've only just begun the rip, rip, ripping of all that knit, knit, knitting, but now that the initial shock has passed, it promises to be a remarkably soothing and contemplative task.

What will the yarn become in its next manifestation? I have no clue. It's possible it will find its way into another sweater. It's equally likely to end up in an afghan, but that decision can wait.

For now, I'm going to take my time and frog it with flair.

Fiber Fun on Flag Day

Everyone has their fiber “thing.” 

Some folks only knit lace. Others only spin. Still others only knit lace using yarn they’ve spun themselves, preferably using wool sheared from sheep they've raised from lambhood.

That’s not me, but if that’s you, I can certainly relate. I have my own fiber fetishes, one of which is knitting small things in red, white and blue combinations. 

The motivation for this is partly practical since my stash happens to contain a great deal of red, white and blue yarn (Four Seasons, Classic Elite; 70% wool, 30% cotton; discontinued). As a result, I’ve steadily produced a number of coasters and cloths, and am building a small but growing collection. It's a harmless and completely understandable little obsession, right?

Which brings me to the point: Saturday, June 14, is Flag Day in the US.

Flag Day was established to commemorate this event: On June 14, 1777, John Adams proposed and the Second Continental Congress adopted the first Flag Resolution. It said: ““Resolved: that the flag of the United States be made of thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new Constellation.”

Flag Day is a national holiday and many Americans will mark the occasion by displaying the flag at their homes and businesses. In Pennsylvania and New York, it’s also an official state holiday. Naturally the dates are different: Pennsylvania acknowledges June 14, New York celebrates on the second Saturday in June, but through a happy accident, this year the two coincide.

From the beginning, our flag has symbolized many things, such as our strong ties to Britain and our struggle for independence. George Washington once observed, “We take the star from Heaven, the red from our mother country, separating it by white stripes, thus showing that we have separated from her, and the white stripes shall go down to posterity representing liberty.”

I’m a bit biased, of course, but if you live in the US, I think the best way to celebrate Flag Day is to have fun with fiber.

That’s what I plan to do. What’s on your weekend agenda?

Purl Bumps Ahead

Many knitters hate to purl, a phenomenon that’s always puzzled me.

I’m the opposite, of course. I find long stretches of purl stitches relaxing, speedy and easy to execute, but I suspect this has more to do with the way I hold the needles and throw the yarn than anything else.

The issue with purling isn’t so much the stitch itself, it’s that other thing: Change. 

For many of us, rhythm and pacing are a large part of what makes knitting so satisfying and enjoyable. The search for that rhythm and the pleasure we receive when we achieve it is what makes knitting so utterly addicting. Shifting the needles, repositioning the yarn, changing directions interrupts that rhythm even if only for a nanosecond.

Seed stitch is exquisitely beautiful in its simplicity, yet many knitters avoid it like the plague. I get it.

The stockinette stitch epitomizes the principle that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Seed stitch is the opposite, roughly comparable to deliberately choosing a zigzag path to travel the same distance. However, the investment of a bit more time, energy and yarn creates a naturally reversible fabric with texture, depth and dimension that often makes the journey worthwhile. The Oyster Bay shawl is just one example.

Like the stitch it describes, the word “purl” has a history with a few interesting twists and turns of its own.

In the 1300s, for example, it described a border, edging or frill added to clothes or fabric. Somewhere along the line, the meaning veered in a new direction undoubtedly reflecting evolving needlework tastes, trends and techniques.

That new direction can be seen in our modern word “purling,” which is believed to be related to the Middle English, pirlyng, a word of unknown origin describing revolving or twisting things. By the 1520s, purl work specified embroidery executed with twisted gold and silver threads, while purling referred to the act of working those threads.

It took 300 years, but by 1825 the word “purl” shifted again to describe the now-familiar and much broader concept of inverting stitches to create any knitted fabric with or without gold or silver thread.

The fascinating thing about knitting, of course, is we can avoid purling but we can't avoid purl bumps. Knitting in general often serves as the ideal metaphor for life, but perhaps the humble purl stitch with its twists, turns and quirky evolution should hold that distinction.

It offers us the opportunity to tackle things from a fresh perspective. To shift focus. Reduce speed. Adjust the rhythm.

Purl bumps ahead. It can be a very good thing.


If you love the seed stitch as I do, you might like this coaster pattern, Double Luck Mug Mats. The mitered squares feature centered increases and are fast, fun and easy to knit. It's my gift to you for Mother's Day.

For more fiber fun, check out Frontier Dreams, Small Things, Natural Suburbia, Wonder Why and Tami's Amis.

Trouble with a Capital T

     Ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say. Trouble in River City …
     Oh, yes, we got lots and lots of trouble … Trouble with a capital T.  
     The Music Man

I can’t get those lyrics out of my mind. Here’s why.

The photo below shows the four strips destined for my latest version of the reversible Twegen fluted rib afghan. All the strips are completed and ready to bind off. So far, so good, right?

Take a closer look. The purple strip hanging off the needle incorporates two solid shades of purple, one deep and one mid-range. While there’s more contrast than the photo indicates, the colors blend together for a subtle tweedy effect. 

The result is attractive and it could be a good thing, except for one small, naggling problem. The other strips feature a lighter two-tone confetti or speckled yarn as a counterpoint to the solid one. In the purple, the cumulative effect of two solids at the darker end of the color spectrum tilts the visual balance.

Don’t get me wrong. The purple strip could (and would) work if other options weren't available. For better or worse, however, I have one more ugly skein of confetti/speckled yarn skulking in the stash.

The speckled skein was actually part of the original color mix, but in isolation, it made a rather lovely purple look muted and dull, so I pulled it from the lineup. Now the other strips are completed, the two-toned effect reads differently and seems more appealing.

As you may recall, much of January was devoted to frogging several large, near-final WIPs that missed the mark. Perhaps that's why I'm so very, very tempted to just live with the dark purple strip as is and push onward. 

Nope. That course of action simply spells trouble with a capital T ... and lots of future frogging with a capital F. So, instead of starting to assemble the afghan, my goals have shifted: Frog the deep purple strip. Recake the yarn. Reknit the strip.

Yes, indeed, there's a reason this blog is titled Knitting | Work in Progress!

Begendings

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. Winston Spencer Churchill

I confess, for a brief moment, I thought about cheating. Refold the afghan, tuck the ends out of sight and ... TaDa! Finished object.

Instead, here it is, in its rumpled, unblocked state with unwoven ends waving in the wind. 

I dare say we all know what I'll be doing this weekend. What's on your knitting (crafting) To Do list?


Elsewhere in the knitting universe, it's FO Friday. Check out the lovely work at Tami's Amis.

Searching for Perfection

One of my many weaknesses is my desire to achieve results that are as close to perfect as possible. This is true in my professional life and in my knitting. Since this blog is about the latter, we'll focus on knitting.

Searching for perfection, combined with the fact that I'm a slow knitter, means I'm not nearly as productive as I'd like to be. Why? I'm searching for the perfect pattern. Or the perfect stitch. Or the perfect yarn.

Way too often, I'm searching for all three. And until I find that combination – the perfect pattern, stitch and yarn – well, things tend to get bogged down.

I'm trying to break this tendency. I love to knit, I want to become a better knitter, and I want to not just knit more but finish more. That last point is key, because I've noticed that in order to finish, first I must start.

With that in mind, I'll share these insightful observations from some very wise people:

The maxim, ‘Nothing avails but perfection,’ may be spelled, Paralysis. WINSTON SPENCER CHURCHILL

I  believe that we and I got a lot of it wrong, but, as in much of life, if we had waited for perfection we might never have got started. CHARLES HANDY

We fail to realize that mastery is not about perfection. It’s about a process, a journey. The master is the one who stays on the path day after day, year after year. GEORGE LEONARD

The universe does not reward perfection, it rewards excellence. UNKNOWN

Things are not perfect and we wouldn't appreciate it if they were. ELIZABETH ZIMMERMANN

Sometimes, the search for perfection is simply a minor diversion, a delay. Sometimes it's a roadblock. Sometimes, it's an excuse not to start, and thus, not to fail.

How is the search for perfection affecting you? Your life? Your work? Your knitting?

It's worth thinking about, which is why I intend to follow EZ's best advice. I'll "knit on it."

Do You Mind if I Knit?

When I was a little girl, I used to take a book with me nearly everywhere. That way, if the adults became boring, I could find a quiet corner and read, which was something I found infinitely interesting.

Today, I'm more likely to take a portable knitting project. That way, if the adults become boring (and I include myself in that), I can knit, which is something I find infinitely interesting.

Through the years, I've discovered most folks aren't offended if you ask, "Do you mind if I knit?" On the other hand, they sometimes get quite prickly if you interrupt their story or stop yourself in the middle of your own long tale to ask, "Do you mind if I read?"

Which brings me to this point. In her review of some long-forgotten play, Dorothy Parker wrote this pithy, memorable assessment: If you don't knit, bring a book.

Excellent advice, don't you think?