Step Into My Parlor

Welcome to my little corner of the knitting universe.  And I do mean little corner.  And yes, before you ask, I did begin life as a quilter (one of my Amish interpretations in the stairwell against which my "office" rests.  Small world, no?

My blog, my book, and all my knitting work happen here, in less than 70 square feet that I claimed for my own, between the front door and the dining room.  No room for a legitimate workspace?  Ha!  I laugh at cramped quarters!  A bucket of paint and a trip to Ikea, financed by my first published knitting pattern were all it took.  It wasn't that I couldn't work at the dining room table.  I'd been making it work just any old way for years.  No, the real reason I needed a workspace to call my own was to legitimize my pursuit in the eyes of the others in my home.  Or so I thought.  Little did I know that I was the one who really needed convincing.  You see, dedicating 70 square feet of my home to my pursuit of art both validated and elevated the time I spend working at it. 

My workspace coexists happily with my family living room and consists of three distinct zones.  First is the Office:
 

My desk, surrounded by tack boards and baskets of, what else? YARN!  Notice how the simple act of painting the wall behind my desk delineates the space and makes it special?

My most-often referenced books, patterns and materials all live near where I write.  On the top shelf is Woody, my artist's model, sporting a miniature gansey I made in class, as well as a wee hat.  Woody provides the constant supervision required by my kind of behavior.

Here's a closer look at my desk.  Swatches, postcards, buttons I love, and other inspirational ephemera are all here in a rotating display that keeps me inspired, or at least tenacious.  In the foreground is some artwork from my book, The New Stranded Colorwork

My second work zone is for knitting, and it's across from my desk in the living room.  This is my favorite place to knit, and where the rubber meets the road for every design:  All my samples are made right here, by me.  I knit here in my favorite chair with a good light, while my family watch TV, play games and read books.  I'd love an office with a door someday, but I'm sure I'd miss all the action of the living room.  

My knitting chair, with the Frog Prince in progress.  The lion's share of my yarn stash lives in the bookcase in the background, inside pull-out bins.  The Knot Garden cardigan is also in progress here, hanging from a bin.  Do yourself the favor of a decent light wherever you like to work:  Mine is the finest that $12 can buy, and serves me perfectly.

The last work zone was added when my sample knitting went thermonuclear.  I invested in some yarn management tools, which have greatly improved my life, and those of my family (who are no longer required to hold my skeins while I wind them)  The wheel was added this spring, when I took up spinning.  

My Lendrum DT wheel, personalized with a favorite verse.  The chair is borrowed from the dining room.  Really uncomfortable, and slated for replacement.  Everything is a work in progress.

And back to the desk, where I'm sitting right now, to complete our tour.

 One large cork board wouldn't fit the triangular stair wall, so I improvised this set of four small ones from craft-store cork squares and bargain-bin frames.  My sister added the words "Dream", "Imagine" and "Believe" to my cork board arrangement as a special message. 

If you have ever thought that your "hobby" doesn't warrant a physical space of its own, I challenge you to devote whatever you can to just yourself and your art.  One corner of one shelf.  One drawer.  Claim it in the name of your craft, like a flag on a mountain top, and see if you don't start to take yourself a little more seriously.  You are worth it, and so is your beautiful work. 

Come back to my parlour soon.  I'll put the kettle on.
 

Seeking Patience, and Something Unusual

I'm slogging away at the Frog Prince.  Still.  Again.  Would you believe that I still don't love it and I gutted it again?  Broke my heart, but there it is.  I just want it how I want it, and the wise words of one of the Faery Ring knitters came back to me:  "I have never regretted tearing something out to make it right, but I have often been disappointed when I didn't".  Hard to argue with that.  And the thought of knitters at my door with torches and pitchforks is always added incentive. 

My frustration is nearly complete, but I'm trying to keep in mind the old adage: "Be patient, God isn't finished with me yet".  Applies so well to knitters and knitting.

Your kind words and enthusiasm, Gentle Readers, have been such inspiration for me to attack the Knot Garden again:

Here is the second sleeve, begun with a nice bit of the knot garden cable business for a cuff.  I'll turn it sideways and knit up for the rest of the sleeve.  Wonder how come I always like cables better turned sideways?  Same disorder that causes me to color outside the lines, no doubt.  Working on this is a welcome distraction when I get a gut full of the Frog.

And now for Something Unusual:  

Friends of the blog Interweave Press  have invited me to take part in a virtual Tour of Studios.  This event will be held this Saturday, October 3.  Click the magazine cover above to follow the link this weekend, and you can take in the sights, which include the work digs of many different designers.  I don't know about you, but the physical spaces in which creativity happens fascinate me.  My little corner of the design world will be on the tour, so you can see where all the magic (and sniveling) happens.  I can't wait to see where other designers work.  I'm particularly interested to learn if many others have tiny little areas, like me.  My office is actually in the hallway which joins my foyer to my dining room - barely even qualifies as a hallway - and occupies less than 70 square feet.  I long for a real room with a door, but for the time being, this little space suits me well.  Once I carved it out, I was really surprised how popular it became with the rest of my family:  I usually have to shoo one or more smallies out of the way to do my thing.

In the meantime, if anyone needs me, I'll be in the corner, muttering curses on a frog.
 

Bits of Fluff and Nonsense

The Cosmos.  Or some dust.  You tell me.

It's been a spot of bother focusing this week.  I stopped long enough to count the projects I have going simultaneously and came up with no less than four.  That is a lot for me, because when I say "simultaneously" I mean that they are all actually in my lap at the same time.  My attention span has dwindled to the flick of an eyelash, and I'll actually put one of them down, mid-row, and pick up another one every time the urge strikes.  This is extremely erratic behavior for me, and I don't mind telling you that my progress on any of the four is negligible.  I normally approach my knitting with the directness of a surface-to-air missile.  No distractions, no side trips; Surgical Strike.  I describe myself as "result-oriented", and usually operate with singular purpose.  Phillip refers to me as "freakin' relentless".  To-MAY-to; To-MAH-toe, whatever.

So in my lap last night were The Frog Prince, the Knot Garden, a stray mitten which wandered into my project queue, and a new sock.  Too weird.  I'm trying to roll with it - maybe this is a new and improved way of working for me?  On the other hand, what if I am actually undermining real progress on any of these items because I don't want to finish them for some reason?  Never mind.  I know this particular forest path, and going down it will result in a knitter who is neither more self-aware, nor closer to a finished sleeve...

In more coherent news, my book tour has begun to flesh itself out into a real, breathing being, thanks to the assistance of my new Whizzbang Publicist.  There are actual dates on a calendar, and plane tickets and everything.  I always wanted to be a road warrior!  Of course, every promotional tour needs its own title.  I was going to ask you for your input, but then I realized that you haven't read the book yet, so it might be hard to get inspiration.  Instead, please comment and vote for one of the following, should you be so inclined:
        
        1.    The Left at Albuquerque Tour
        2.    The Relentless Atomic Knitting Book Tour
        3.    The "Oh please, not another book tour with a rock-concert name" Tour

Your input is appreciated.  The big news of the week is that my official book launch will take place at none other than the Duchess County Sheep and Wool Festival, in beautiful Rhinebeck, NY.  Check my calendar page for updates beginning in October, and if you'd like me to make a stop at your LYS, guild meeting or other gathering, please contact info@maryscotthuff.com .  I'll give a talk, autograph some books, we'll have a few laughs.  There's also a trunk show, and I'm teaching classes when possible, too.

I'm off this weekend to pet the sheep at the Oregon Flock and Fiber Festival.  Phillip and the smallies have elected to join me.  I was surprised by this development until they pointed out that the last time I was allowed at a fiber festival without supervision, I came home with a whole raw fleece.  These people.  Geez!  You bring home one little sheep and everybody turns into the Fiber Gestapo.