Knitting on Impulse

Recombobulating

It has been a seriously disruptive couple of months. There's been happy but routine-trashing things, obnoxious energy sucking things, exciting things, worrying things, new things, variations on things that have been around for years but are enormously draining just the same.  All at once.

The resulting monkey mind has not been especially conducive to writing, and, unusually, has even made it difficult to sit still and knit.

What is emerging from the chaos with startling clarity however, is the need to revisit and reclaim a broad swath of my personal territory - both mind and body.  Many aspects of that project will necessarily remain cryptic, but I have no doubt it will inform and invigorate my creative expressions.

Here's a bit that I am more than happy to proclaim to the world: I've returned to running and weight training, dropping 17 lbs (and 3 inches off my waist) since Christmas. (Not that anyone has noticed... AHEM.... visiting family!)

More importantly, I'm beginning to fully inhabit my body again - to feel it energized and strong, full of possibility and capability. I freely admit to loving the gym - the zen-like focus on muscle groups, the mathematical satisfaction of analysing and optimising biomechanical forces. The fact that I'm steadily reclaiming sections of my wardrobe is simply an added bonus - there may even be properly modelled shots of knitwear in my blogging future.

Speaking of creative expression, I should show you the April colourways, aka the Emerging Collection:

 

From left to right: Daffodil, Orange Crocus, Red Twig Dogwood, Dark Purple Crocus, and Fresh Dirt.  The Emerging collection is currently available in Summit Sock and Bluefaced Bliss (fingering); there is also a set of Quintets in each of these bases.

I suspect I'll be less scarce now.

Spring Cleaning

It's that time of year, when a harried mother's thoughts turn to the choice between excavating her kids' room or tossing in a match and a bottle of gasoline and quietly closing the door.  As I suspect the strata council would frown on the latter option, I'm taking this week to do the former, and a stab at the rest of the house as well.

I really really want less stuff... clear surfaces, the psychological freedom that comes with uncluttered spaces. Four years ago we got rid of 80% of what we owned, and I really think we need to do it again. How is that even possible? We live simply, are increasingly disconnected from the consumerist mindset, and yet somehow our wee space is choked with stuff, much of which I don't even like, but almost all of which I fear we'll never be able to afford again (in the event I change my mind and wish we had it after all.) How do I reconcile the simplicity principles of a) making do with what I have and b) getting rid of a substantial chunk of it?

Part of the solution, I've decided, is clarity. Who I really am, what I really (really) want to be part of my life.  Accepting my wildly multifaceted nature as legitimate rather than flighty, shedding protective layers of pretend normalcy.  (A serious load of mental and physical clutter accumulates via the process of pretending to be normal.)  Packing up my invisibility cloaks and considering what might happen if the outside of me matched the inside. Mourning. Celebrating. Freaking out just a little that I've already used up half my probable life span and there is So Much I still want to do. Taking stock. (This would be the reason for the longish online silences.)

Figuring out what I really truly want to wear before picking up the needles.... like this cardigan:

 
 

I grabbed a skein each of the Water Magic colourways in BFL fingering... plus an extra ClearWater to make up the extra on the cuffs and button bands. I am knitting a simple, negative ease body, bottom up, in the round, to be steeked when complete.  I've provisionally cast on the sleeve stitches at the underarms, and will knit the sleeves down once the yoke is complete, allowing me to preserve the continuity of the striping pattern and make best use of the yarn. Having left myself little margin in the yardage department, I figure I'd rather compromise on the length of the sleeves than the body.

 

Stripes follow a 2,3,5,8 Fibonacci sequence. I chose 4 stripe widths for the 5 yarn sequence to ensure that each colourway was used equally.  I also fiddled with the calculations to find a width sequence that would repeat just about exactly twice - again, making optimal use of limited yardage.

Despite being fingering weight at 7 st/inch, it is proceeding remarkably quickly - I find the smaller hand movements do a great deal to speed up the knitting.

 Now, while we're on the subject of decluttering, and since I've been excavating rather than dyeing this week, how about a rolicking good sale? Stay tuned, I'll announce it via the newsletter in the next day or so.

March Colours: Water Magic: SkyWater

Water, in and of itself, has no inherent colour, but it permeates a complex world of light and shadow, minerals and organic matter. I chose five water photos for this palette, and as they were fairly complex in nature, studied the mosaic components even more closely than usual when composing the dye sequences and formulae. In the interests of reducing the photo burden this time around, I am going to give each colourway a post of its own.

First up: SkyWater

This photo was taken last summer, showing a piercing blue sky reflected in the crystal clear waters of the creek splashing down from a glacial lake high on Blackcomb mountain.

 
As you can see by the mosaic, the grey rocks underlying and surrounding the water temper the richness of the blue to a steelier hue, and there is even a subtle whisper of purple here and there.

 

In Summit Sock:

 

and Bluefaced Bliss:

 

March Colours: Water Magic: MeltWater

It is usually well into summer by the time the melt truly reaches the alpine, and there is a kind of fierce hopefulness in the barely unfrozen rivulets splashing directly out of the snowpack and down the sparse rocky earth, exposing the tendrils of hibernating vegetation scrubbed raw by the retreating ice.

 

Raw mud often reflects with a purple sheen, and this is no exception:

 

Meltwater is the most complex of the five colourways, but the overall impression is of grey-browns and purples.

In Summit Sock:

 

and Bluefaced Bliss:

 

March Colours: Water Magic: ClearWater

The creeks around here tend to acquire a blue-green hue by the time they accumulate in the valley bottom, and even splashing across crystal clear shallows, the tint is unmistakeable.

 

The rocky creekbed contributes its own mix of greys and browns, with the occasional hint of lavender:

 

and the end result is a rich and mysterious grey-blue-green.

In Summit Sock:

 

Pure Cashmere:

 

Bluefaced Bliss:

 

March Colours: Water Magic: SwampWater

Where water collects, wetlands happen, and slow moving water harbours some wonderful colours:

 

 

Green. Lovely, smooshy, slimy, olive-gold-emerald-y green.

In Summit Sock:

 

In Bluefaced Bliss:

 

and Pure Cashmere:

 

March Colours: Water Magic: MuddyWater

Thanks to the iron content, muddy water can be awfully pretty:

 

 

 In Summit Sock:

 

In Bluefaced Bliss:

 

Interesting... this colourway actually contains the component green-golds... but turned out a little more ruddy than the photo. Very pretty, though.

The Colours of Not Quite Spring

One of the best things about doing these monthly colourway sets is that they take me back to what first captivated me about colour, way back in the early days of the blog, before I ever thought of dyeing yarn: analysing the colourways of a natural phenomenon and using them to create a charted design. The practice contains an element of what intrigues me in the work of artists like Andy Goldsworthy - a sense of collaboration with nature, taking "found" hues from my surroundings and reassembling them into something personally expressive.

The days of late have been dark with downpour and drizzle - hardly what one hopes for at this time of year in a mountain resort. The light is dim, the snow is rutted and dirty, and it is easy to feel that all the colour has gone out of the world.

The woods are defined primarily by the bare skeletons of trees, slick with damp and waiting patiently for the ice at their feet to thaw.  But it turns out (as it always does), that when you look closely and mindfully at your surroundings, there is beauty and diversity... and colour.

 

Having finally taken the financial plunge with Adobe, I've been playing about with Photoshop's mosaic effects:

 

These muted grey-blue-purples and pink-tinged browns became the first colourway: Winterbark Purples.

 

 Brown is, of course, what immediately comes to mind when thinking of bark, but there is such diversity and possibility:

 

Everything from dark chocolate to terracotta, ruddy hues and nearly-greys.

 

Winterbark Browns: 

 

There may be no leafy greens about at the moment, but one can always count on the damp to provide a rich palette of mold  and decay:

 

These muted shades contain hints of every green from turquoise to emerald to olive.

 

Winterbark Greens:

 

Lichen, in its various forms, provides a brighter contrast in the dark woods - a subtle grey-green with wee splashes of sunshine:

 

 

The fifth colourway, I freely admit, was not found in the forest. I wanted to express not just the muted subtleties of this grey season, but also the hope and passion that are celebrated in February:  the imminence of spring, the fierceness of Brigid, the romance of Valentine's, and the flaming crimson that is synonymous with Chinese New Year's.

Hence, Firecracker:

 


The February colourways are presently available in Summit Sock, but more yarn bases will be forthcoming, and once Rob has a chance to do up a set of Quintets, I'll get on with pulling the colourwork out of my brain and onto the needles.

(Full details of this week's update, which included restocks of Beary Surprise, may be found, as always, in the newsletter.)

Wild Skies Mittens

These were such fun to create.

 
I had a couple of goals in mind with these mittens:

Firstly, of course, was the challenge of creating a balanced design with equal quantities of the five Wild Skies colourways (a single Quintet in Summit Sock, in this case). To be honest, pink with blue is a little out of my comfort zone, but I persisted in the belief that nature does not err and the sky would surely have its own intrinsic harmony. The hot hues of Alpenglow are nicely tempered by Grey Day, while the somber blues of Twilight have a steadying influence on the bright energies of Dawn and Ultraviolet. The most brilliant colourways were allowed to play together only in small doses within the trim and mitten tips.

Secondly, in keeping with January's theme of Possibility, I wanted a sense of lavish exuberance, and I was inspired to that end by Lizbeth Upitis' wonderful book documenting the mittens of Latvia. I utilised a traditional sun motif as the centrepiece (as befits the sky), modifying the surrounding flourishes to fit.

The palms, however, were designed in a fit of pure whimsy:

 

The perfectionist in me can't help but conceed that it would be nice if all the letters fell in areas of identical contrast, but the design was intended to honor the spirit of impulsive ecstasy - that happy creative place where every possibility is on the table, and the work of pruning and perfecting still a long ways off. For me, it does exactly that.

Highlights

Some of my favorites from this week's update (there's lots more - full details in the newsletter):

Six beautifully matched skeins of Merino Worsted in River and Rock, begging to be a sweater. I'm generally heavily biased towards BFL in all things, but the merino grabs this multifaceted colour in such a way that you can see tweedy speckles and variations across the width of a single strand.  Merino worsted has the same springy twist as it's BFL counterpart, which makes for great elasticity and shape retention.

 

Dark Amethyst in Bluefaced Bliss:

 

and Merino Silk:

 
You just can't beat the sheer royal attitude of purple silk. (Though crimson silk is devastatingly sexy.)

(Same exact colourway, by the way, but the BFL has golden undertones, due to the creamy natural base, whereas silk invariably pulls to the blue side.)

Many thanks for all the lovely comments on Annui.  The falling snow idea has been percolating for a long time, and I think the design will work well in a variety of strong colour contrasts.