Eye Candy Shawl vs. Everyday Vest
On the first day of Rhinebeck (New York State Sheep and Wool), I wore my Devil’s Yarn Shawl. I called the yarn Devil’s yarn because in order to create the color gradient, as explained in a spinning class by Color Expert and Celebrated Spinning Teacher Judith Mackenzie McCuen I had to divide the roving into batches to get proportions that would allow me to create a gradient of near-constant proportion, from dark to light. When I laboriously divided out and measured the roving required for each of the three plies per skein, it turned out that I needed 66.6 grams per color. And it took a beastly long time to spin, too! I knit the Wool Peddler’s Shawl, from Vicki Square’s Folk Shawls to show off the gradient, and blocked the edges into a pointy scallop using a stretcher made of Zoo Boo (bamboo grown in the back yard from rhizomes purloined from the edge of the National Zoo). Long story to say that I got a LOT of compliments on this shawl at Rhinebeck.
The next day, I wore a vest of my own design and Solitude Wool’s spinning. I call it the Market Vest because I had grandiose dreams of all the farmers at the Dupont Circle Fresh Farm Market staying warm and toasty with freedom of movement in matching vests of wool from local producer and fellow vendor, Solitude Wool. Just who(m) would spend the time to knit a market’s share of vests, I had not yet calculated.
For Rhinebeck, I thought of attaching tear-off tags to the back of the vest so that when knitters ooh’ed and ahh’ed over the utilitarian, yet flattering design, they could take home the link to the pattern, order the wool, and I’d be famous the world over for the fabulous Market Vest, gone viral. Or Raviral… or something. Nobody said Boo about the vest. Ho, hum. A navy vest with nice ribs. Yawn.
The experiment appeared to be a triumph of color over texture, of eye candy over everyday? Perhaps if I want to sell the vest pattern, I had better make a sample in eye-catching colors. Start spinning now…
My firstest guest blog
I lied. Here’s the evidence.
When asked, I always tell people that my grandmother taught me to knit at the age of six. Sophie did teach me to knit, but when I could not manage the yarn and both needles at the same time, she taught me to crochet, which was more manageable. I like to ask people how they learned and who taught them, and for my own story, I’d tell people that my mother knit, but that her knitting was hers and my knitting was mine, that she never taught me. True, I never thought to ask her questions and re-taught myself from books that I purloined from her collection (along with size 5 and 8 straight needles and a bunch of stitch markers).
Recently, though, I found a picture that calls this out as a fabrication. It is a picture of my mother teaching me to knit three weeks after my brother was born, which puts me at five years old. Big deal? Yes, actually; it makes me reconsider my assumptions about my mother. My older brother and I did a lot of wonderful crafty things with my mother as small children, but I have no memory of time spent in the kind of patient one-on-one focus that I see in the photo.
This past weekend at Rhinebeck New York State Sheep and Wool, the STC Craft Team invited me to join the portrait gallery for the newly-published book, My Grandmother’s Knitting, and I lied again about who taught me to knit. Maybe it is that enduring sense of being present that a grandparent can spare, while a mother with two older children and a newborn can kindle this kind of spark for just a fleeting moment, caught on film to be rediscovered and reconsidered all these years later.
Rhinebeck!!!
Seems to me that whenever anyone posts the nickname of the New York State Sheep and Wool Festival that comes around every October, the name of the location is followed by three exclamation points.
I am firstly a Maryland Sheep and Wool fan and to the great folk who let me organize a book signing there last spring (May 2011)… BUT a colder-weather festival is nothing to sneeze at. At which to sneeze.
So at the last minute, I’m going. And I’m signing books. And I’ll post the dates and times. Are YOU going?
Why I have not quit my Day Job
- As far as I can tell, a person who is making her or his living through knitting has to put out a lot of energy to sustain a knitting career. Income is produced through many concurrent activities: teaching, traveling to teach, writing patterns, writing blogs, web sites, books, articles, attending fairs, markets and conferences to get exposure, not to mention running a business: bookkeeping, advertising, payroll, taxes, travel logistics, and booking gigs.
- I want to make sure not to hate my favorite activity.
- Some time ago, there was a fad for a “portfolio life” in which one’s professional life could be made up of several careers, and I aspired to that for a number of years.
- I think I’m easily influenced by others’ designs, so sometimes I think it’s better not to even look venture into the knitting community.
- I get easily discouraged by the enormity of everyone else’s fantastic creativity. I admit it, I get jealous. I guess that’s how you know you really have found a métier; you get a visceral and complex reaction to others’ great works.
- I believe in the mission of my day job as a project manager for public health projects: if we knew what to change and were able to implement simple changes, we could increase good health and quality of life for everyone. It’s not that knitting is frivolous; it provides tremendous benefits, but they are more subtle than clean water and disease prevention. If I work on the global level (public health writ large) and individual level (joy of knitting), I can figure that somehow I may be contributing to the broader good each day.
Do you work full time in the area that holds your greatest passion? Why or why not?
A title in search of an author
I’ve mentioned in my book talks and classes that the way the title Knitspeak came about was that I was teaching beginning knitting in a great local yarn store, and it that one of the students who came to the fourth class and said, “You have taught me how to knit. I can knit, purl, increase and decrease. I bought this book and I bought the yarn for one of the projects. I can’t knit that pattern or anything from this book because I cannot understand a thing in this pattern; it’s Knitspeak to me.”
Aha moment.
I would like to credit this person but don’t have her name; I think her name may have been Anne? Was an elementary school teacher on Capital Hill??? If you are that person and you had me as a beginning knitting teacher some years ago, let me know who you are so I can credit you.
Travelling knitters or knitting travellers?
The camera crew that shot the Knitspeak e-book promotional video mentioned that the knitters they interviewed spoke about travel; do knitting and travel go together, they asked? Is it that people who knit also like to travel? That travelers also like to knit?
I’m thinking: a certain number of people will always be the kind who want to see what’s over the next hill. Some of those travelers play cards, or stare at the scenery and think Great Thoughts, or count telephone poles. Knitters knit. It is a particular pleasure to settle down to uninterrupted knitting that is justified by the journey. It’s a rare happenstance in which we sit down to knit while the world goes by us. And we don’t have to be anywhere else because we are already on our way.
How do you sign an electronic book?
When Knitspeak came out, I visited with knitters at yarn shops and fiber festivals. We talked about the book, if they thought I had left anything out, if they found it useful, and I signed their copies to them. During the exchange I would learn a little bit about them, and they would have the pleasure of meeting the human being who had put the words on the page (with a TON of help from editors and colleagues and graphic designers).
How does one sign an e-book? Across the screen? Install a watermark? Export a badge of some kind? Maybe we dispense with the tangible book (or book delivery device) altogether and just have the conversation: What do you like to knit? Has the information in Knitspeak helped you? Where do you live and for whom do you knit?
Book signing is like taking a photo of a well-known destination even though thousands of professional photographers have been there before you. It proves your physical presence. Is the proof for yourself and your memories or to show others you there or met the author? What do you think?
Hello world! The world needs one more knitting blog…
Here is the teaser for the 13 September E-Book release :0
http://www.openroadmedia.com/authors/stc-craft-melanie-falick-books.aspx






