I totally meant to blog this story a while ago, but forgot all about it. Kathy Kiely, a political reporter for USA Today, followed the Obama campaign last year, and knit a scarf during all of the campaign stops. She also kept a little photo journal of the traveling scarf and wrote a nice article about it a couple of weeks ago.
Link: “Knitting Together Stories and Scarves on the Campaign Trail.”
I recently came back from a week in San Francisco, which from a knitting point of view, was a series of very small, minor, semi-unfortunate events.
When I was a kid, my parents snapped a series of photos immortalized in the family photo albums. I am sitting in a rowboat, and at first I am proudly showing off my Snow White sunglasses. Then, you see me dangling them in the water, and making a face because one of my parents was telling me not to dangle the glasses in the water. Then, off-camera, I have dropped the sunglasses into the pond, never to see them again, and there are a few photos of me bravely trying not to cry, because I persisted in dangling them in the water even though they told me not to. Though these photos do not have the same chronological story-telling element, basically, the same thing happened with my awesome watchcap. Below, you can see me wearing it while knitting in the park and waiting for the streetcar.
Then, sadly, it was gone. One day, when I took a whole bunch of public transportation, from Caltrain to the Muni Metro to the BART, I arrived to meet my friends for dinner in the Mission, suddenly realizing I had put my hat down somewhere along the line, and it was gone forever. I was totally sad, and complained the whole walk from the BART station to the restaurant, and the first thing I said upon seeing my friend was “Oh my god! I lost my hat! I am so upset!” We have been friends since the first day of high school, so she was used to my melodramatic ways, but her boyfriend was a little taken aback, and he was like “Um, hi.” I realized I was being kind of rude, especially because I like her boyfriend a lot, and was leaving him and Adam to make conversation among themselves without being properly introduced. Fortunately, they share a love of burgers and pizza, so they chatted about that, while I continued to complain. My friend tried to make me feel better by pointing out she loses things all the time, and her boyfriend, once I stopped complaining constantly, pointed out that I should try to practice “non-attachment.” I think he was joking, and I said, “Is this a San Francisco thing?” and my friend said, “No, it’s a Buddhist thing,” which I did think was kind of funny.
Anyway, I almost finished one of Adam’s Christmas present socks on the plane ride out there, when I suddenly realized that I had left the ball of yarn for his other sock in New York. I pulled out my other sock to knit on (above), and I realized that I only had enough yarn for one sock of that pair as well. Grrrr.
Of course, this necessitated new yarn, no? When we got to the airport to fly back, I was like “How can I have so much knitting crap?” I made Adam take a photo of how much stuff I was lugging around:
From the bottom up, I have the new Mason-Dixon knitting book, Knit It! Felt It!, (both gifts from Adam), the new Yarn Harlot book (a gift from Adam’s parents who also gave me a kit of one skein and the book One Skein Wonder, which I left behind in New York–I don’t actually think Adam gave them any hints, so I was particularly impressed that they bought me the Yarn Harlot book), two bags of sock knitting, one bag of new knitting (the final 2008 FO, to be debuted with free pattern in 2009), and my traveling tool bag.
Here are all my FOs for 2008, all pictured above, except for the additional mystery FO to be debuted in 2009. I knit three lace items (top row, L to R, The Ella Shawl, Burgundy Bat Shawl, That Little Scarf); one cowl (Ithacowl, free pattern if you click through); one hat and first Fair Isle project (the sadly lost Patterned Watch Cap); three pairs of socks, (bottom row, L to R, Spiral Socks, Rainbow Jaywalkers, Berkeley Socks); and three pairs of mittens (Hot Pink Mittens, Waffle House Mittens, and the mystery FO, which hint, hint, is a mitten-esque thing).
I’m big into accessory knitting, but I’m hoping to conquer sweater knitting in 2009! (My dad, who is in town, suggested knitting pants–I think he meant like leggings–today, but did add that he thought they would time-consuming. I agree, though the thought has crossed my mind before.)
I’m almost done with my scarf, though I’ve already knitted nine more repeats than the pattern, and I haven’t decided how many more to do. I’ve also started another project, which will be the subject of my next post. <–And if that preview sentence isn’t the most exciting one you’ve ever read, then clearly you haven’t been reading this blog very long. It’s true: My next post will talk about knitting.
Anyway, the scarf, at least, has been having a mildly interesting life, even if its knitter has not. Here, it and a Claes Oldenburg shuttlecock get ready for lift-off, at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, in Kansas City, MO.
Here, it watches the New York City Marathon.
Here is a funny bit of news about how an elderly lady who was slashing her neighbors’ tires (because she thought too many people were parking in her neighborhood) was sentenced to knitting sweaters for all of her “victims.” [via The Rainey Sisters] On a semi-related note, I was reading my Folk Mittens book, and it mentioned that in certain cultures, children were not allowed to go out and play until they had knitted a certain amount of rows (I think the Faroe Islands) and that brides were expected to knit mittens for all of their wedding guests (I think Latvia).
I’ve had a couple people suggest that I sell some of my projects, and I’m like, um no, because then I would turn into a sweatshop serf at home, instead of having a fun little hobby. I would guess that’s how people who had to knit might feel, instead of those who do it for fun. Here, obviously, is the place to link again to that Freakonomics article about knitting, with the salient quote being, “Whether or not you’re getting paid, it’s work if someone else tells you to do it and leisure if you choose to do it yourself. ”
Though on a side note, I am actually rather fascinated by the economics of how people try to make money from their knitting hobby, particularly designers. Sometimes I think that the knitting designers (on the Ravelry boards, at least) seem to get all up in arms about things like copyright, in an attitude very similar to freelance magazine writers. I was a full-time freelancer for a while, and still do some stuff on the side sometimes, and I’ve found that freelance writers seem to get upset (on message boards, at least) in the same way as knitting designers. In a way, I think it’s because neither profession is particularly profitable, so people get outraged about copyright infringement and all-rights contracts (hot topics for both designers and writers) because they need to hold on to every dollar they can. Sometimes I think the better solution would be to (a) find a more profitable line of work and/or (b) look at the future of their business and actual challenges they’re facing. I think the internet has really changed the notion of access and copyright, and for lack of a better term, the “knowledge economy.”
The internet had totally changed something like knitting. In ye olden times, people pretty much knit what their neighbors and families knit, and then when books and magazines became popular, maybe people learned from that. But the internet has totally broadened people’s knowledge of techniques and styles, and more importantly, provided that information mostly for free. I mentioned to Adam yesterday over dinner that I was interested to see how Twist Collective does, compared to Interweave [an internet-only magazine, versus a traditional print magazine], and he said, correctly, I think, that Interweave should be much more worried about Ravelry. Ravelry allows you to search with such speed and ease for patterns for pretty much anything that you want, whether free or paid, that it has become a de facto crowdsourced knitting encyclopedia. For freelance writers and knitting pattern designers, their specialized knowledge has become almost obliterated by everything from Wikipedia to Ravelry.
For something like a medical problem, I would still prefer to go to a doctor who went to medical school, rather than trying to self-diagnose myself, but I think many less-specialized forms of knowledge have shrunk in value, as a direct result of the information posted for free on the internet. So, on that cheerful note, I suggest that all of my readers learn a new skill to see them through the economic recession. Or go to medical school.
I voted and I knitted.
I found this blog dlittlegarden that had a funny tagline: “Ugly things: all made by hand.” I’m like, hah! That should be the name of my blog. Recently I’ve been thinking of knitting a dickey, and I realized that I may have totally lost my mind. I wish that I, like Brooklyn Tweed, only knitted beautiful and elegant items, but instead, I’m like ooh! Loud sock yarns! A hat connected to a scarf! Maybe a dickey! Knitting makes me weird, lose all taste, and turn into a granny living in the 1970s. I’m like a werewolf of tackniness; when I’m exposed to knitting, it turns me into a lover of weird shawls and other useless items.
This sock progress shot is actually from last week, I’m almost done, though not quite finished with the second sock. I have been watching a ton of Olympics and I think the commenters’ style of announcing is drilled into my head: “She’s approaching the heel turn, look at that precision! The picking of the stitches! Oh no! She’s dropped a stitch. A HUGE mistake, easily 8/10ths off. This may cost her a place on the medal stand.”
I’m watching the Olympics and knitting, but not joining Ravelrympics. Since knitting is a hobby, I try not to get all deadline-ish about it, because I would probably get stressed out (and not finish anything). I’m also trying to only knit from stash, but not go on an Absolute Stash Diet, because things like that also tend to be stressful. (I went on one diet in my life, when a doctor told me to cut out all acidic things for a month and I nearly broke down…kim chee! mustard on pastrami! tea! It was tough.)
I spent all day yesterday taking down wallpaper, which is a boring and time-consuming project. I did knit a few rows on my new project though:
It’s Anne Hanson’s “That Little Scarf” (started on vacation, as you can see above).
It’s interesting because I’ve been reading Anne Hanson’s blog, Knitspot, for a while now, and I’m very inspired by the work she does. Yet at the same time, I felt that a lot of her scarf patterns were essentially a stitch pattern picked out from a dictionary, and sold as a pattern. I found an interesting discussion on Ravelry [registration required] about this–is it really a fair to charge $5 or $6 for a pattern that’s just a stitch pattern?
I thought the discussion was quite interesting, and one that made me rethink her patterns. Seeing a finished version of some of her projects–even those in a simple stitch pattern, like her Luxor socks–has made me consider using certain stitches (like a simple knit and purl triangle) with certain patterns (like socks) that I wouldn’t have before. But is the pattern worth the price? I know for me, I didn’t have the stitch dictionary that had this stitch, and more importantly, it was the matter of convenience. I was heading out on vacation, I had the yarn, and I just wanted to know how many stitches to cast on and instructions. For me, it was worth the $5. I also was very inspired by her use of the yarn color (I have problems picturing patterns in other colors, which is why Ravelry has been so great) and fingerling weight yarn–I’m not sure I would have pictured a finished product just by looking at the stitch dictionary. (The Walker Treasury Project is a great way to see the Barbara Walker stitches in color, if you have the books…which I don’t, but am considering buying.)
What do you think?
We went to the Jersey Shore for a week, and I did a little knitting.
Here is Zoltar, the magical fortune teller who transformed Tom Hanks into Big. Well, or one of the Zoltar’s kind. He is skeptical about the sock. “But how can I grant your wish, sock?!?”
The sock appreciates the view down to the beach.
Keep out, sock!
It’s good I started the sock over again because I realized I had been doing the double decrease wrong. I realize everyone and their mother in blogland has made Jaywalkers, so, this is hardly revelatory information, but when you slip the two stitches knitwise for the double decrease, slip them together, not indiviudally.
Okay, above is a photo of the sock waiting for Billy Joel at his Wednesday Final [ish] Play at Shea. I have always like Billy Joel, even though I know he is considered a little lame by many people. My theory about Billy Joel is that he’s like the Vows section in the New York Times–everyone is a fan, no one wants to admit it.* (If you read the Sunday New York Times, you read Vows, aka “the wedding section,” aka “the women’s sports pages,” even if you’re a man. It’s a fascinating section and if you claim you don’t read it, you’re lying.) *Except if you’re from Long Island, whose entire population showed up at Shea, I think. They love Billy Joel, without shame or reservations.
One of my friends claims she was a Billy Joel fan until she saw the video for Uptown Girl, which she claims was “him jumping around in a ridiculous jumpsuit,” which made her lose all respect for him. I never have had MTV, so I was spared this video (though I just watched it on YouTube, and it is kind of crazy. But it was the ’80s! I have another friend whose favorite movie is Grease 2…it was a weird time.)
Anyway, in college, my roommate and I (okay, it was mainly me) somehow borrowed a Best of Billy Joel tape from our neighbor (which dates when I went to college–people still had tapes, though even then, they were rare) and we were like, damn these old people, because we totally would have gone to see him in concert, if the tickets hadn’t been so expensive. But when I saw that he was playing at Shea, I thought that maybe the tickets were free, so I googled the concert the day of the event, and though it was not free, additional tickets had been released for that night. So, I was like “Hey! It’s historical! They’re tearing down Shea! We should go!” It was definitely fascinating. Though there were times that I felt like I was part of some crazy Manchurian-Candidate-esque stadium event (especially after John Cougar Mellencamp appeared and everyone started yelling “USA, USA,”), even I was touched when the entire stadium sang “Piano Man” to the Bard of Long Island.
P.S. My love for Billy Joel does NOT extend to a capella groups, which I hate, and who seem to share a love for Billy Joel. I’m guessing that my friend who hates the Uptown Girl video never saw an even worse video…For the Longest Time.
PPS It’s been so hot, I’ve been knitting wherever there’s air conditioning…the subway, the museum, etc.
So the shawl is pretty much done–it just needs to be cast off and blocked out. I had wanted to finish it before the 4th of July, but you know, life gets in the way.
We headed up to Ithaca for the holiday weekend and I took along a ball of rainbow sock yarn, intending to make a pair of Jaywalkers.
I cast on on the bus, and knit through to yellow in front of the Cascadilla Gorge…
…next to the Taughannock Falls…
…in the car…
…in front of the Beebe Dam..
but it was all for naught. The damn sock is too tight! I had cast on fewer stitches than the instructions said–and with size 0 needles, instead of 1s–because I am under the impression I have narrow calves and feet. Well, I measured my leg and foot, and it turns out I have average sized (and width) feet. Anyway, the whole leg–all the way through to the V of ROY G. BIV–is ripped, and waiting to be reknit. Grr.
Did you know that part of the Berlin Wall (above) is in New York? Who knew? It’s hidden away in Midtown, near the Museum of Modern Art. Anyhow, I have a total dearth of exciting knit-blogging fodder, or exciting life-blogging fodder. (Not that my normal posts are SO exciting, but anyway.)
I’m knitting another shawl, out of variegated yarn. I realize that these are weird and possibly ugly, and the fact that I spend the majority of my free time and disposable income on crazy colored yarns to knit potentially ugly accessories, is, perhaps, a bad direction for my life. This could, if my life was a novel, or some kind of art project, be kind of tragic, and a metaphor for modern American life or something.
By the way, in my boring life, I’ve recently went to this year’s Whitney Biennial, and it was so crappy. (Beyond the low quality of the art, there was a really low level of craftsmanship to the work.) Plus, a whole bunch of the explanations seemed, um, bullshitty. So maybe I will try to justify my craft projects with similar explanations: “New York Minknit’s work posits the question of how chance and gender interact in modern life. By using variegated yarn, the artist is showing the randomness of choice, and interprets the concept for the fiber arts. Shawls have traditionally been worn by older women, many of whom have been forgotten by modern society, and by crafting shawls using traditional needle-work, she reinvents the definition of third-wave feminism.”
Or maybe I just love ugly shawls.
