As many of you know, I’ve been at this knit design stuff for decades now. What I didn’t know is how much my design is informed by what is easy for me to conceptualize and execute. I have a certain way of thinking and working. I have always striven to create new things, but at the same time I realized I have stayed in a comfort zone design-wise that I had not been aware of. Until recently…
A few years ago I designed a simple, yet elegant raglan top called Julia Tee. It was worked in my Silke yarn, with some waist shaping in an elongated garter stitch and while the edges were self-finishing it needed to be seamed. It was well-received back then and has been worked in a variety of different yarns by diverse knitters over the years. In light of the ever-increasing popularity of topdown circular knitting, I decided my Julia (image below), would be the perfect garment on which to apply these new-to-me techniques.
Should be a no-brainer, I thought. I always knit first and write the pattern afterwards, so I took the existing Julia pattern, figured out the number of bind-off sts at the neckline and cast on. I immediately had to acknowledge that I was out of my comfort zone in more ways than one (make that four), but I slogged away, struggling to find the ease and joy I usually associate with knitting. I felt like I was working in the dark, felt unsure about my gauge, felt a lot of things none of which were pleasant. Several stall outs and self admonishments later, I finally finished it and vowed to myself I would never do another topdown, circular or even a raglan design. I put the results away. I didn’t want to be reminded of intuited the pattern writing anguish to come.
A few months later I took my new Julia out of its hiding place and brought it to a trunk show at The Frayed Knot in Savannah. It was a good-looking little top, after all, and maybe if it was popular there I would be inspired to actually write the pattern for it. And popular it was… I even pre-sold a few copies. The pressure was on. After avoiding starting on the new pattern for as long as I dared, I finally had to get to work. The discomfort of the knitting had receded in my mind and I could, once again, appreciate the design for its simplicity and for the joy I knew it would bring some of my customers.
I’m sure that some of you must be chuckling… How can reimagining an existing pattern and transforming it into one for topdown circular knitting cause such distress for an experienced knit designer? You’d think it would be easy for me. And, indeed, theoretically it should have been. It’s just that I was having some kind of block and the accompanying fear and emotional anguish were making the whole process quite daunting and unpleasant.
I rolled up my sleeves and for two days I struggled with my internal compass for pattern writing and spatial thinking and, after yet another failed diagram, figured out how to wrap my head around the new visualization process in my head. Thank goodness! Pattern writing is always a bit stressful and something I take very seriously. I am, after all, asking someone to trust that they will be able to make a replica of a garment in a photo. A garment that they may or may not ever see in person. The pattern writing process demands that I paint as clear a picture as possible of what to do using a shorthand of words and numbers only the initiated can interpret.
It’s been many, many moons since I have been this challenged in my work. But I didn’t give up, even though I’ll admit at one point, I even entertained the thought of hiring a colleague to work out the pattern for me. I was that desperate to escape the discomfort I was feeling. Once I cracked the code of how I needed to think to get the instructions for one size of my new Julia Topdown Around down on paper, I experienced a temporary sense of achievement. But I wasn’t done yet… I allowed myself a day or two to savor my partial success, but then it was time for grading the pattern. More insecurity, more improvised, chaotic sketches and my calculator was running warm. I even coupled in my math teacher knitting friend for support. I was encouraged by the feeling of accomplishment from a couple of days before though, and so I just hunkered down and worked steadily until it was done.
And then it occurred to me. This is how knitters must feel when they are trying something new. That I had been afforded the chance to be a beginner again, the chance to plow through a challenge that I knew intellectually was well within my capabilities, but which was nevertheless wreaking havoc, and the feeling of triumph at the end. And all of a sudden I understood and could share in the joy that I meet in my travels when knitters proudly show their work. I suddenly felt rewarded that my design work might be part of someone else feeling good about their personal accomplishments. And what a great feeling that is!
I will always love how individual pieces seamed together influence and inform aspects of my design work, but as part of my own personal development I’m sure I will revisit the topdown circular world again soon. I now better understand the lure of topdown circular knitting choice. But perhaps best of all, I now have a deeper understanding of and respect for the opportunities for learning that knitting affords us and how it can foster joyful personal expansion that can be shared with others!
]]>When my sister and I divvied up the last of the things that were part of our childhood home after my mother passed away, I got the sewing cabinet. It has been in my home, untouched, since then. I tried once to sort it out, but quickly realized after opening the middle drawer, I was not ready. Too many memories. Too raw in my emotions. Too close to the overwhelm I was still sorting out in myself.
It’s been a year and a half since my mother passed away and first today I went through and organized my mother’s sewing cabinet. It now stands near the front door in my living room. I keep my gloves, an umbrella and fabric shopping bags on it. It is an unpretentious teak piece from the 60’s, with three drawers. The handles are molded into the drawers in the way that was popular back then and the three moves it has endured chipped the underside of several of them. It matched the style of the other Danish teak furniture found in my childhood home that my parents favored of which I have, happily, several more pieces.
In much the same way as my grandmother’s spice racks did, my mother’s sewing cabinet held a special fascination for me. They both held family secrets of sorts. The sewing cabinet was a place which hid materials to fix things. Spools of thread, patches, zippers, name tags, snaps, buttons and, as I discovered, literally hundreds of sewing needles. I remember always having to rummage through the messy, tangly contents of those drawers hoping to find just the right color thread or a piece of salvaged elastic band or lace. There was a sense of adventure in that process. I never knew what treasure I might or might not find.
The drawers were vaguely thematic, but otherwise overfull and disorganized. I learned to put my favorite sewing needle in a certain spool of thread for safe keeping and so that I could easily find it again. I remember tidying the drawers on some rainy day now and then as a child, but that stopped when I left home. And over the past 40 years the drawers have not changed much. Once in a while, while visiting my mother in recent years, I would take a look but would quickly close the drawers, not wanting to elicit the response to feelings of overwhelm that had come to punctuate aspects of my mother’s life and that had, admittedly, seeped into my own. Somewhere along the line avoidance had become the least painful solution.
Today, I was not met with overwhelm when I opened those drawers but rather a sense of exploration into my childhood. Into the mystery that was my mother. And I was filled with respect. The items told a tale of frugality and earnestness. Of love and commitment. I found a couple of pin cushions. One little tan one that I had made as a Brownie. The stitches were all uneven but even now I remember the sense of pride I had in giving it to my mother. These gifts were hidden in the disorder, buried in the layers of memories that sewing cabinets hold among the new and salvaged zippers, Girl Scout badges and half a dozen thimbles. I found metal prongs for hanging curtains. Maybe she kept them as a reminder of our home from which she moved after my father died. More likely they just moved with the sewing cabinet that hadn’t been sorted out for twenty years at that point. Besides one never knows when something might come in handy again. I found buttons everywhere… in every drawer. Lots of old ones, but even new ones still in their little plastic packets that come attached to new blouses and jackets.
And, perhaps most poignant of all, I found a pair of green, metal Susan Bates knitting needles. The ones on which I learned the rudiments of knitting from my mother, when I was 7 or 8 years old.
Today I finally went through and sorted out my mother’s sewing cabinet. I’m glad I waited until I could savor the experience. A sewing cabinet is so personal somehow. The contents revealing tendencies of the owner. What was important to them. A piece of a personal history. Familial history. I sorted out the sewing cabinet for her once more as a tribute to the memory of her love for us.
And I sorted it out for me.
]]>Having tried traditional advertising at various times in the course of my 30+ years in our little industry, I had come away with the equivalent of once bitten, twice shy. Early on I realized I had to be creative even in that area of my business and devised and implemented ways of marketing that were new and unique. And worked. I had never tried social media ads though and was curious. So after a long spell of deliberation, I decided to jump into the fray and try some FB advertising on my business page.
I am a strategist. While it might look like I am simply flying by the seat of my pants that is far from the case. I do a lot of analyzing before I jump and then I do a lot of experimenting to test my hypotheses. Instinctively I felt that the 'boost you page' option was not what I was looking for. I do not just want 'likes' for my page, I want to develop my community. I finally decided that I had to just jump in and thrash around for the last bit of the process and one evening I did my first 'boost post' promo. It was fun with all the usual encouragement that one gets from more 'likes' and 'people seeing this post' and I even got one order. It all seemed promising. But what I noticed over the weeks would change my mind. It actually seemed like when I wasn't boosting a post that my organic reach was considerably less than usual. Was this a scheme on the part of FB to force me to advertise to reach my followers?
And then my son sent me this link confirming my findings:
For years I have been slowly gathering followers and fans on my FB pages and have enjoyed the process and the interaction. Until a few weeks ago when FB changed their way of doing things. At first I tried to be a big girl and comfort myself by saying it can't be that bad and that they have a right to run their company the way they want, but I have to admit it has become increasing difficult to maintain a positive attitude.
I only have a few thousands followers (as compared to the fellow in the video), but I can clearly see the effects that he speaks of in my statistics. I don't think ignoring the situation is the answer, and I am too smart to cultivate a bazillion followers through advertising just to feed their monster!
Enough said...
Back to square one. And back to one of my favorite pastimes, figuring out another way to do something... :-)
]]>For years I have seen lace patterns in all kinds of fine yarns. One more beautiful than the next. The problem is that I am a knitter who pretty much won't go smaller than a US 6 / 4 mm needle. In my way of thinking life is simply too short! So when I was asked to do a lacy shawl pattern in Kid Mohair for a Swedish magazine I just stayed true to my philosophy and the Georgina Shawl was born.
I wanted to do something different, put my own spin on things and so created a more geometric lace pattern for the piece which was knit on a US 7 / 4.5 mm needle. This was the result:
I was pleased with the pattern and wondered how it would look in my Heaven's Hand Wool Classic. I hadn't seen any lace patterns done in dk or aran weight yarns, nor in a traditional plyed wool. I was very happy with the results and I didn't need to block the shawl either!!
The Georgina Shawl pattern also works up great in Heaven's Hand Shaman as shown here on Tammy Burke's swatch at left... This version will definitely have to be blocked to achieve the best results!!
... and Heaven's Hand Silke as shown here in my Instagram picture at right which won't need blocking either.
I am happy to be offering a 20% discount on these yarns through May 1. Please use this discount code when you are placing your order: FO92LVZV5S4E
Looking forward to having you join us!!!
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After a couple of year of pondering, I picked up my needles and finally worked out a system for doing my Geometric Openwork... Happy day!!
The circuitous thinking of Mr. Holmes is depicted in the Sherlock Scarf shown below. It is the first pattern being published using the Geometric Openwork technique and I find it serendipitous that it should be featured in conjunction with a Sherlock theme!
The yarn used is Masham Worsted from Lorna's Laces and the yarn and pattern can be purchased as a kit from Jimmy Bean's Wool. There are also some photos in the pattern to help the knitter understand how to work the technique.
More patterns using the Geometric Openwork technique will be added as soon as I get the patterns ready!!
Happy knitting!!! :-)
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