Things We Have To Make

There are things we want to make.  Things we like to make.  Things we think that someday we would really like to make.  And then there are the things which are not optional.  Things which are required, by circumstance, as proof of our abilities, or in some cases, things which are born because not making them turns out to be much harder than just allowing them to form under our hands.

Lindsay had to make a sculptural interpretation of a cell, with all its parts.  She had a clear vision of what it should look like, its size, and all the things she would need to execute it.  My jobs were to drive to the craft store and help procure supplies, and later, to fire up the label-maker.  Other than that, this is entirely her creation.

I stood looking at it, the product of her hands and her mind, thinking that it wasn't very long ago that she didn't know how to feed herself.  What happened to that little baby who spit mashed peas on us?  Whence came this capable young lady?  Not sure, but it's okay; I don't really miss the mashed peas.

I was sick last week.  Gnarly bout with the flu.  I wallowed around in an antihistamine-induced fog, wondering if the cure wasn't worse than the disease.  My sensitivity to cold medicine (required for breathing) is such that it both knocks me out, and keeps me from actually sleeping.  So I lay around in a fugue state for about four days, dreaming the same irritating set of knitting instructions over and over, unable to release my mind from them.  This unmade garment, a colorwork vest, had commandeered my subconscious, and would not let it go.  I know where all the steeks go, the order of the colors, how many stitches are in it.  The only thing left is to let my hands catch up.

But I don't want to knit a vest.  I have other things to work on, like a Trapeze Tomten, and the Caorah Dubh pattern to write.  And I wont tell you (yet) about the the Annual Christmas Knitting Start-itis that has besieged me.  Nope.  I don't want to make the Vest of Flu-induced Torment.  Not One Bit. 

But I realized last night that I don't think its up to me.

One of my most constant prayers is for inspiration.  That said, I believe that Inspiration, in and of itself, is for amateurs.  As one who has hitched my financial wagon to the art that spills from my head, I cannot afford the luxury of waiting around for the big idea.  So I approach creation like the work that it is: Joyful, surprising, exhausting work.  And because I so often have to lower my horns and plow on ahead, it occurs to me that I may not know a real burst of inspiration when it's given to me.  And I don't get to choose how the ideas will present.  I might have to wait until some time when I'd rather be blowing my nose for the ten-millionth time. 

So I cast it on.

MacTarnahan inspected what  will one day be the Flu-Induced Vest Design. 

Lindsay had to make her cell sculpture for school.  Its completion was not optional.  She didn't waste time questioning its necessity, just dove in and made it.  And really enjoyed both the process and the result.
 

I'm gonna learn a lot from her.

A Wee Pretty Thing

I actually mean the scarf, but who am I kidding?  The model's pretty too.  I made them both, but not on the same day.  Only human, after all.  The model's Lindsay, and the scarf is my exclusive for next year's Madrona Fiber Arts Winter Retreat.

"Violets".  What could be sweeter?  The yarn here is none other than Socks That Rock Lightweight, made by the unsinkable Tina Newton of Blue Moon Fiber Arts.

If you like BMFA (and who doesn't?) you will LOVE this limited edition kit.  Tina's groupies (myself included) will recall that she doesn't usually produce kits, but she did me a special favor in this case.  We Love BMFA!  "Violets" measures 11.5" x 48", just the perfect length to snuggle under in late winter.  It's worked in the round, then steeked, for easy knitting. Big. Huge. Fun.

The kit costs $60 and is available one of two ways:

1.        Students who sign up for my Eeek! Steeks! class at Madrona will receive one in the mail upon registration.

2.        You can purchase a kit-only from the Blue Moon Fiber Arts booth at Madrona.  They will be available to non-students there, in limited number.  If you really really really want a kit and you're scared they might be gone by the time you make it to the booth (legitimate fear), send me an e-mail and I'll work with BMFA to arrange for a pre-order.  This will also help us know how many kits to create.  

If you attended Eeek! Steeks! with me at Madrona last year, you know what a great time we all had.  If you didn't get in last time, here's your chance.  This is only the second-ever Madrona exclusive design, so if you are planning to become a collector, don't miss the opportunity. 

For the die-hard, here is a list of the official BMFA colorways included (some are not yet available to the public):

Melusine:                The main background color - a "spirit" of turquoise; ethereal.
Mossay:                   The absolute best green in the whole wide world.
Tumbleweed:           Subtle and earthy; the perfect leafy foliage foil.
Saffron Surprise:       The middle of a fried egg.  The first crocus of spring.
Tanzanite:                A real and true, not even kidding Purple Gem.
Happy Go Lucky:     New this year; everything you ever hoped to find in your Valentine.
Vancouver Violet:     Delicate whispers of neither aubergine nor blue.  That secret place between sleep and awake.

Go on, you know you want one.  See you where the violets bloom.
 

Happy Ending

You know what it's like when you get really involved in a great book?  You start to view necessary activities (eating, sleeping) as intrusions.  Anything that takes you away from the compelling nature of you, and the pages, and what will happen next is an extreme inconvenience.

That's what knitting Caroa Dubh has been like.  Will I have enough yarn?  Why can I not make a shawl collar in fewer than eight tries?  Will this even fit me?  Will I have enough yarn?  I just kept turning the pages, fully embroiled in the story.

And it did fit..

And I did have enough yarn.

And even though I still don't fully understand the collar I made, I really like it.

Even the buttons are exactly what I would have hoped for. (Get some for yourself here )

Remember when I said I had only just begun to think about what it would be like to actually wear this yarn?  I didn't know the half of it.  It's hefty.  It's comforting.  And this is a big surprise:  It's silky.  For all its fuzzy hand-spun-itude, this yarn, when knit, is silky and drapey in the way that fur would be, if a person were to wear it.  It's luxurious and indulgent, and downright sexy.

There was just enough chill in the air this morning for me to wear it to the bus stop with the kids.  The breeze was knocking the first of the yellow leaves out of the trees.  The sun was coming up pink over the mountain.  I waved to the Smallies as their bus pulled away from the curb. Then I threw my arms around myself and hugged tight, breathing in the cool morning air and thinking how lucky I am that my job is to make beautiful things, and then share them with my friends.

And, just like when I finish a book I've been deeply engaged in, I am more than a little melancholy to have finished Caora Dubh.  I have that sense of emptiness you get at the end of a really great project.

Of course, there is still the pattern for me to write, should anybody be interested.  Drop me a line if you are.  Ever wonder what the characters in the story do after you close the cover on the last chapter?  I think the rest might be yours to write.