Knitting: A Retrospective (or something of the sort)
So, here I am in the writing center, and I have to rack up hours somehow. So I'm doing it here. Meh. I suppose I'll write about my history as a crafter/knitter.
The Cloth I'm Cut From
Before I can touch on myself as a crafter, I should address my family's crafting ability. First, my dad's side of the family. He can mend buttons, and sew things together as needed, he was a bachelor at one time in his life, after all. But he is absolutely amazing with a paintbrush or wood. His mother (Grandma Carolyn) was the one to pass down her artistic abilities, but she doesn't exercise her craft knowledge much now.
My mother's side of the family is the side I take after in my crafting. My mother was the one to teach me to knit and sew, and her mother (Grandma Jeanette) was the one who taught her. Grandma Jeanette is amazing, and knows an incredible amount of different needlework methods. She is the only woman I know who can embroider Hardanger, a traditional Scandinavian lace. She hails from Minnesota, originally, and I believe that her knowledge of needlework has been passed down from the early settlers, and possibly even from European origins. Of course, she sews modern things, and uses a sewing machine, but it's nice to be able to trace my needlework heritage down through the maternal line.
A Grand Old Time
Both grandmothers of mine had little projects all set up for us grandchildren whenever we would visit. Grandma Jeanette would have a number of different projects lined up for each visit, from painting footstools to planting pumpkins. Often, her project would be a small doll of some sort, sometimes made out of rags, other times made out of a pillowcase. She was also always sewing matching outfits for my little sister and me. My dresses always had red piping to match my dark brown hair and brown eyes, and Kathy's dresses always were green because of her hazel eyes.
We both grew to hate our respective colors for years, until we realized that those colors really did look the best on us.
But Grandma Jeanette wasn't the grandmother who turned me onto knitting, although she is the one who turns out knitted afghans for each grandchild's graduation. No, I began planting the first seeds of a knitting afficionado at Grandma Carolyn's house. She had so many little toys hidden in my aunt's old bedroom. There were the model horses (my favorite were inevitably the ones with broken legs), the dolls, and even the sewing cards, complete with shoelaces to thread through the punched holes.
Grandma Carolyn also had a plastic knitting spool. Just a dinky pink one, with six prongs and a hook that I kept losing. But I liked seeing the fat yarn snake come out of the bottom of it. I would wrap any string-like thing I could around the prongs to keep the snake long. I kept at it, making the cord grow to such a length that I had to loop it around my neck in a scratchy acrylic necklace to keep it from dragging on the ground behind me. I had no idea what to do with the cord after it had been through the spool, and I tried to make rugs or hats with the cord, but it didn't look right, no matter what I did. The lovely fat cord would flatten up and just be a tiny stripe in any coil I attempted.
I gave up on knitting for years.
Renewed Interest
My mother decided to make an afghan in the years I was in middle school (1996-1999). I don't know why. Really. But that was what had fueled me to get back into needlework. I started trying to sew, and even completed a couple of doll dresses before giving up due to lack of preparation. I would pick out the fabric, gleefuly cut it along the pattern, and sew it together as the directions told, without checking my mother's sewing basket for velcro or other fasteners. I also would be extremely lucky if the clothes fit my doll in any way. Usually, I cut the clothes and sewed them with little to no seam allowance. (I still have that problem)
I also started cross-stitch embroidery, and really enjoyed learning the math behind it, but often abandoned my project halfway through, after I had ruined my own math by cross-stitching just one too many X's, or miscounting a row.
I finally talked my mother into teaching me to knit. She probably expected me to just give up after all these other failed projects, and she cast on forty stitches, knit a couple of rows, and handed me the needles. I was hooked.
My first needles were shiny brown aluminum size 9's, and my first yarn was a scratchy acrylic yarn that changed from reddish-brown to blue, from blue to white, then back along the spectrum. I kept interest in the project because of the variegated yarn (sad but true!) and the clicking of the needles, once I figured out the mechanics, were calming. I still believe that size 9 needles and variegated yarn are the perfect teaching materials for a new knitter.
I created row after row of garter stitch, continually bringing the swatch to my mother to see if it was long enough. Finally, she declared it a square and taught me how to bind off. The square was lopsided, had a hole in the middle, and had finished with five more stitches than I had begun with, but it was my square, so it was perfect. Mom cast on another square for me, and I spent all of my summers knitting square after square, loading up the little knitting basket while I learned the knit and the purl stitch.
Thinking Outside of the Square
It wasn't until the big knitting craze hit in 2002 that I realized that there's more to knitting than squares. Seriously. It took me that many years to realize there's more to my life-long passion. But the instant that I realized I could knit anything (within reason), I was hunting patterns down, and when I couldn't find a pattern, I made up my own, often with hilarious results.
I still remember presenting Grandma Carolyn with a hand-knit purple scarf with little ruffles on the ends. I have never seen it again, thank goodness.
Still, I loved everything having to do with knitting, and I clicked happily away on my alumninum needles, wearing my proudly scratchy acrylic scarves and armwarmers. I was a fashion-challenged sight to behold.
Of course, my immediate family members would prefer that I take down that above sentence and replace "was" with "am". I guess I haven't improved all that much. But I have discovered the world of wool and cotton, two yarns that I knit almost exclusively with now.
Tales of a 1337 Knitter
Well, currently, I identify as a knitter, predominantly, but I am definitely proficient in pretty much every needlecraft. Kathy has claimed crocheting as her territory, but I've done some exploring in that direction (under her supervision, of course).
As a knitter, I'm nowhere near an expert. I've only just finished my first (good) sweater, which I'm counting as my first sweater, as my "real first sweater" could be better classified as "my first tent". I'm working on my first laceweight shawl, and the mistakes are abounding. I just like to say that they add character to the shawl, even though I'm itching to rip it back all the way to the beginning so I can begin again. I'm not ripping it back because I'd undo hours of work.
I do think that I'm a good knitter, though. I'm not making anything absolutely ugly, except for a scarf made from some gift yarn. Seriously, that yarn is butt-ugly, but I can't bring myself to give it away. And there is so much of it, that I have an eight-foot garter stitch scarf, and I still have two balls of the stuff left over. Ai.
That crap yarn is blue and green rickrack (I swear) with green seafoamy stuff dangling off of it. I should like it, if only because I knit with those colors so often. I seem to be drawn to the blues and greens of the spectrum. Mom even asked me as I was working on my gray shawl why I always knit with such dark yarn. I was completely flabbergasted. But it's true. If I'm going to be working on a long project, the yarn has to be a color I'm going to wear, and I more often wear dark colors than light. Also, I guess I still don't like red that much (see above).
There was a time where I bought yarn indiscriminately. I'd buy a ball here, a pretty skein there. Then I'd bring them home and have no idea what to do with them. I have so many hats now. I don't do it anymore. Really. I buy my yarn with a purpose, and preferably, there's enough for a really big project. The only small projects I allow myself for the moment are socks, since they have such a high stitch gague anyways.
Right now, I've only got two projects on the needles: the second sock in a pair, and my shawl. I think maybe that I need to start a sweater, just so I could have a third option, maybe I should work on that Schmendrick tunic that I designed a while ago, or maybe I should make the Sandman sweater design, with his mask on the back. Hope I can find that design again... The thing is, both of those designs are (again) either blue or dark colors.
Looks like I'm stuck in a rut. Oh well. At least I figured out what it is. And I wasted an hour. YAY!
The Cloth I'm Cut From
Before I can touch on myself as a crafter, I should address my family's crafting ability. First, my dad's side of the family. He can mend buttons, and sew things together as needed, he was a bachelor at one time in his life, after all. But he is absolutely amazing with a paintbrush or wood. His mother (Grandma Carolyn) was the one to pass down her artistic abilities, but she doesn't exercise her craft knowledge much now.
My mother's side of the family is the side I take after in my crafting. My mother was the one to teach me to knit and sew, and her mother (Grandma Jeanette) was the one who taught her. Grandma Jeanette is amazing, and knows an incredible amount of different needlework methods. She is the only woman I know who can embroider Hardanger, a traditional Scandinavian lace. She hails from Minnesota, originally, and I believe that her knowledge of needlework has been passed down from the early settlers, and possibly even from European origins. Of course, she sews modern things, and uses a sewing machine, but it's nice to be able to trace my needlework heritage down through the maternal line.
A Grand Old Time
Both grandmothers of mine had little projects all set up for us grandchildren whenever we would visit. Grandma Jeanette would have a number of different projects lined up for each visit, from painting footstools to planting pumpkins. Often, her project would be a small doll of some sort, sometimes made out of rags, other times made out of a pillowcase. She was also always sewing matching outfits for my little sister and me. My dresses always had red piping to match my dark brown hair and brown eyes, and Kathy's dresses always were green because of her hazel eyes.
We both grew to hate our respective colors for years, until we realized that those colors really did look the best on us.
But Grandma Jeanette wasn't the grandmother who turned me onto knitting, although she is the one who turns out knitted afghans for each grandchild's graduation. No, I began planting the first seeds of a knitting afficionado at Grandma Carolyn's house. She had so many little toys hidden in my aunt's old bedroom. There were the model horses (my favorite were inevitably the ones with broken legs), the dolls, and even the sewing cards, complete with shoelaces to thread through the punched holes.
Grandma Carolyn also had a plastic knitting spool. Just a dinky pink one, with six prongs and a hook that I kept losing. But I liked seeing the fat yarn snake come out of the bottom of it. I would wrap any string-like thing I could around the prongs to keep the snake long. I kept at it, making the cord grow to such a length that I had to loop it around my neck in a scratchy acrylic necklace to keep it from dragging on the ground behind me. I had no idea what to do with the cord after it had been through the spool, and I tried to make rugs or hats with the cord, but it didn't look right, no matter what I did. The lovely fat cord would flatten up and just be a tiny stripe in any coil I attempted.
I gave up on knitting for years.
Renewed Interest
My mother decided to make an afghan in the years I was in middle school (1996-1999). I don't know why. Really. But that was what had fueled me to get back into needlework. I started trying to sew, and even completed a couple of doll dresses before giving up due to lack of preparation. I would pick out the fabric, gleefuly cut it along the pattern, and sew it together as the directions told, without checking my mother's sewing basket for velcro or other fasteners. I also would be extremely lucky if the clothes fit my doll in any way. Usually, I cut the clothes and sewed them with little to no seam allowance. (I still have that problem)
I also started cross-stitch embroidery, and really enjoyed learning the math behind it, but often abandoned my project halfway through, after I had ruined my own math by cross-stitching just one too many X's, or miscounting a row.
I finally talked my mother into teaching me to knit. She probably expected me to just give up after all these other failed projects, and she cast on forty stitches, knit a couple of rows, and handed me the needles. I was hooked.
My first needles were shiny brown aluminum size 9's, and my first yarn was a scratchy acrylic yarn that changed from reddish-brown to blue, from blue to white, then back along the spectrum. I kept interest in the project because of the variegated yarn (sad but true!) and the clicking of the needles, once I figured out the mechanics, were calming. I still believe that size 9 needles and variegated yarn are the perfect teaching materials for a new knitter.
I created row after row of garter stitch, continually bringing the swatch to my mother to see if it was long enough. Finally, she declared it a square and taught me how to bind off. The square was lopsided, had a hole in the middle, and had finished with five more stitches than I had begun with, but it was my square, so it was perfect. Mom cast on another square for me, and I spent all of my summers knitting square after square, loading up the little knitting basket while I learned the knit and the purl stitch.
Thinking Outside of the Square
It wasn't until the big knitting craze hit in 2002 that I realized that there's more to knitting than squares. Seriously. It took me that many years to realize there's more to my life-long passion. But the instant that I realized I could knit anything (within reason), I was hunting patterns down, and when I couldn't find a pattern, I made up my own, often with hilarious results.
I still remember presenting Grandma Carolyn with a hand-knit purple scarf with little ruffles on the ends. I have never seen it again, thank goodness.
Still, I loved everything having to do with knitting, and I clicked happily away on my alumninum needles, wearing my proudly scratchy acrylic scarves and armwarmers. I was a fashion-challenged sight to behold.
Of course, my immediate family members would prefer that I take down that above sentence and replace "was" with "am". I guess I haven't improved all that much. But I have discovered the world of wool and cotton, two yarns that I knit almost exclusively with now.
Tales of a 1337 Knitter
Well, currently, I identify as a knitter, predominantly, but I am definitely proficient in pretty much every needlecraft. Kathy has claimed crocheting as her territory, but I've done some exploring in that direction (under her supervision, of course).
As a knitter, I'm nowhere near an expert. I've only just finished my first (good) sweater, which I'm counting as my first sweater, as my "real first sweater" could be better classified as "my first tent". I'm working on my first laceweight shawl, and the mistakes are abounding. I just like to say that they add character to the shawl, even though I'm itching to rip it back all the way to the beginning so I can begin again. I'm not ripping it back because I'd undo hours of work.
I do think that I'm a good knitter, though. I'm not making anything absolutely ugly, except for a scarf made from some gift yarn. Seriously, that yarn is butt-ugly, but I can't bring myself to give it away. And there is so much of it, that I have an eight-foot garter stitch scarf, and I still have two balls of the stuff left over. Ai.
That crap yarn is blue and green rickrack (I swear) with green seafoamy stuff dangling off of it. I should like it, if only because I knit with those colors so often. I seem to be drawn to the blues and greens of the spectrum. Mom even asked me as I was working on my gray shawl why I always knit with such dark yarn. I was completely flabbergasted. But it's true. If I'm going to be working on a long project, the yarn has to be a color I'm going to wear, and I more often wear dark colors than light. Also, I guess I still don't like red that much (see above).
There was a time where I bought yarn indiscriminately. I'd buy a ball here, a pretty skein there. Then I'd bring them home and have no idea what to do with them. I have so many hats now. I don't do it anymore. Really. I buy my yarn with a purpose, and preferably, there's enough for a really big project. The only small projects I allow myself for the moment are socks, since they have such a high stitch gague anyways.
Right now, I've only got two projects on the needles: the second sock in a pair, and my shawl. I think maybe that I need to start a sweater, just so I could have a third option, maybe I should work on that Schmendrick tunic that I designed a while ago, or maybe I should make the Sandman sweater design, with his mask on the back. Hope I can find that design again... The thing is, both of those designs are (again) either blue or dark colors.
Looks like I'm stuck in a rut. Oh well. At least I figured out what it is. And I wasted an hour. YAY!