Rabbit Hole

I can’t believe I’m knitting plain old simple stockinette in the round. It’s been For. Ever. since I found myself doing TV Knitting. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

Yes, I know this is a totally bizarre way to construct a dress. You’ve known all along, Gentle Readers, that my process is somewhat, um, unconventional.

““...You have your idea you want to do, but then you got to figure out what does this thing want to be? You got to let it lead you a little.””

— Jerry Seinfeld

I always envision the result first, often at the most unlikely or inconvenient time. Then I’m compelled to find a way to get it. Then I figure out a way to show you how to get it. In at least four sizes. Always, I hope, keeping in mind that just because I conjured up a thing doesn’t mean you would enjoy it.

Once upon a time, I dreamt of the little rabbits in “The Unicorn and the Lady” Tapestries:

La Dame à la licorne, Musée de Cluny

I startled from the dream with the design fully formed in my head, and raced to draw it as a chart before the magic of that place between sleep and awake evaporated.

Wild Hare Mittens, ca. 2012.

At first he was a mitten. I wanted to work him out on a small canvas, and mittens are perfect for that. Once they were done, I thought the itch had been scratched.

But the Wild Hare, as he told me he was called, had other plans. He stayed with me, hopping around in my brain, always wanting to be something else. Something More. I told him to be patient, to wait for the right time, the right yarn, the right garment.

But instead, he did what hares will do: He multiplied. He insisted that he and his friends needed room enough to hop around. Perhaps in circles, so that they would never have to stop, and never worry they might fall off an edge. And he wanted a bigger, grander border to keep them company; something that would remind him of the Lady, and the Unicorn, and the tapestry where he was born. I resisted his his pleading. I told him there were books to write, children to feed, and other stories to be told.

The Wild Hare would have none of it. “A Dress,” he said. “You must make us a dress to live upon.” “I’ve never knitted a dress,” I argued. I wasn’t sure knitters would like to make such a big project. The Wild Hare didn’t care. He pestered and multiplied and haunted my dreams.

Seven years passed. The books got written, the children got bigger, and many, many other stories were told.

And then finally, one day, a box full of magic arrived, unsuspected, unsolicited, and completely delightful.

Shuksan Sport, Jorstad Creek

The softness. The drape. The halo. At long last, I gave in to the Hare’s entreaties. I had run out of excuses. It was time to go back down the rabbit hole.

Care to join me? Watch this space…

The Doctor is In

So you’ve knitted for a month, or a year, or a cycle of Wagner’s Ring. You’ve done all that you can to that sweater or dress or motorcycle cozy. Except to cut the steek.

This UFO now represents not only the knitting allowance invested in its yarn, but all the time and effort required to get it to this stage, as well. And there it sits. Still in the tote bag or storage unit where you left it until such time as the adequate stores of courage could be found to cut the steek.

You’ve followed along with me on my adventures, inwardly cringing as I ruthlessly hack up my knitting. You’ve heard me bang on about how hard it isn’t to cut open a tube of knitting. But still your steek remains uncut.

You’ve revisited this project a number of times. Maybe even re-read the pattern instructions right up to their blithe direction to cut the steek. “As if!” your would-be steekmaker cries. It’s just too daunting. What if all that time and money and effort end in disaster? What if the whole thing falls to pieces? What if the cutting goes fine but the finishing is a nightmare? Maybe you’ve even come to “Eeek! Steeks!” class with me to learn the finer points of the operation, but just need a little more confidence.

So there the poor little UFO sits, waiting for the proper planetary alignment to see its day in the sun.

I’ve been there, Gentle Readers; O I have.

Today I present a solution: Come visit me in my virtual living room, and I’ll help you sort it out.

Yes! I’m throwing a little steek party, and I really want you to come. It will be an open workshop. You can practice one or more steek techniques with me. Or brush up on just the one you think you’ll use on an actual garment. Or play a few rounds of “Stump The Teacher” with me by offering your hardest questions. For these three hours, I’m all yours, and anything goes with regard to steek-y goodness. Want to know how to add a steek to a pattern that doesn’t call for one? Want to change the size or shape of some knitting that isn’t quite right? Got general stranded colorwork questions you’ve been burning to ask? Well here’s the opportunity. Join me on 02-23 at 10AM PST for gobs of knitterly fun.

Click HERE to register.

I’m here to help you screw your courage to the sticking place, my friends, because the only wrong knitting project is the one that never gets completed.

Knitting Fearlessly

I’m coming up for air after a big weekend of teaching and high jinks at Vogue Knitting Live, in which I communed with around 100 of you, and happy times were had by us all.

Who’s up for more? This Friday I’m teaching “Fearless Two-Color Mittens” for Longmont Yarn Shoppe via Zoom, which is a great follow-up for students who have completed my introduction to stranded colorwork. It’s also great for intermediate mitten-knitters who are ready for a sample of traditional Norwegian mittens!

Included with the class fee is my “Nordica” Selbuvotter pattern.

“Nordica” Includes all the important Selbuvotter elements, and together we’ll explore the technicques, symbolism and folklore associated with them.

If you’ve ever been curious about the unique nature of this brand of knitting, this is your chance to find out more, with me as your guide.

And I’ll even teach you how to pronounce “Selbuvotter””.

Click HERE for details and registration.