Make Stile

Simple words to live by, written by my niece.  I keep this on my fridge to help remember the direction in which I'm pointed.


I don't knit a sweater without sewing a shirt (nor do I eat stuffing without cranberry sauce).  I have a favorite shirt pattern - a modification of a modification of Butterick 4064, which I purchased for 25 cents (note: there is no longer a cents symbol on my keyboard, only dollars).  While I think it's acceptable to wear the same sweater day after day, I do like to change my shirt, so I've made a couple more.

And I've cut out two others.

This one is harvested from a men's XL dress shirt.  I added a western overlay, a la Temple Grandin, and I'm planning some embroidery inspired by a lonesome tree in a scene from the movie Tombstone.

Cutting is fun.  While I am not a victim of startitis in knitting, I think I may be in sewing ... here's a dress all cut out (and there might be another all cut and waiting under the table).  Once sewn, I hope to actually wear it (and thrust my hip out to the side with attitude) with a cardigan.

I've been knitting too.  I'm revising a mitten pattern  I wrote this spring so it can be knit in various gauges and sizes.  The thumb looks like a chicken drumstick.  It will be available on Ravelry on December 1, and as of now is un-named (hopefully there will be a chicken reference - any ideas?).

I have a wicked craving for weaving lately.  And printing, too.  I'm hoping this diversity will bring an unexpected (good) lilt to my knitting design.   So I'm going to be bold (like so many of my friends), and be a cool, relaxed, stile maker. 

Still Chewing

 

Mary Jane and I took a last minute whirlwind trip to NY Sheep & Wool (Rhinebeck) in October.  I wanted to come home with inspiration, not supplies.  It was a success.  Actually, it was inspiring, fascinating, crowded, and overwhelming.  I am still digesting.

Sidenote:  I've met my match in MJ in fear of crowds.  Imagine challenging yourself to swimming across the bottom of the pool in one breath.  Now imagine getting your cute skirted swimming costume stuck in the damn drain at the bottom of the pool.  Worse, imagine your girlfriend's cuter swimming costume is stuck in the same damn drain.  That's about what we felt when we reached the midpoint of the really crowded buildings - we could see the exit signs, but we couldn't reach them.  Now imagine yourself at the beer tent.

I think I've loosened up a little this year (excepting the crowd thing).  I'm all over the map with knit/sew/dye/draw/print/weave cravings. (Does anyone have a good all-encompassing name for these activities? You'd think I could name what I do. I actually have a degree in studio art, emphasis on traditional craft, but that sounds snooty. Useful Fashion/Art ... UFArt? Wearable Fashion/Art ... WeFArt).  I think it's all going to come together in a walking human collage, like this. 

And here's a start, my Sara Luverne design,  made with Ball and Skein's Breckenridge, in concert with Leslie Wind's jewelry.

Fasten your socks.  It's gonna be a fun ride.

Do Your Thing

I was in a clothing store recently, and a man held up two items to a woman that worked there and asked, "Do these go?".  Yes.  They go.  And I thought to myself, "Self, this is your quandary." 

I am forty-five years old.  I love being forty-five.  It's really fun.  But what goes with being forty-five?  I can still cartwheel, but I'm not going to wear a leotard.  I'm a big fan of Virginia Tech (my daughter is a student there), but of the 47 different styles of tees they offer, only one suits me (it has a retro applique). I watch the programs that show what fashions are appropriate and flattering on women my age, but I don't have need for heels or blazers in New Hampshire (or rubberized underpants, though I admit to wearing them on special occasions).  Black may be slimming, but it's contradictory to my personality. 

I knit, so I need to wear knitwear.  That I know.  I sew, so I like to wear at least my own homemade shirts.  I love vintage clothing and accessories, anything before 1970.  But at what point do I start looking like I won the blue ribbon at the 4-H show?  Or like a character in a play?  What I really want is to show that I love being my age.  (Incidentally, I did win that blue ribbon).

Flashback, February 14, 1996, 10pm:  My husband is on business in Miami, invites me down.  I fly down in my Mom Jeans, white turtleneck (Rich's department store, senior citizen discount if I go with my mom) and my hand knit Lopi Icelandic sweater.  Contact lenses have been swapped out for my thick glasses in flight.  "Let's go cruise South Beach", he says as we load my bags into the rental car.  We creep down the well lit streets teeming with tall-haired women in black cocktail dresses and $400 shoes who have been working out, waxing, and tanning for this very evening.   And I think to myself, "Gee, I liked these clothes when I put them on ...".  

Flashback #2, 1986:  I'm in the restroom at a fraternity pledge dance, wearing a high waisted calico dress I sewed for the occasion.  My date's old girlfriend comes out of a stall sporting super tall hair, a strapless black cocktail dress and expensive shoes.  She says to me, "Did you make your dress?  It's nice, very understated ... but my friends and I thought you should know you look like you're expecting." And I think to myself, "Gee, I liked this dress when I put it on ...".

Self, here's your answer:   Get over it.  Break the rules.  Wear the stuff that sings your name.  Delight in your Becky-Homecky shirt and second hand coat.  Do Your Thing.  It (almost) always works for you.  And be thankful you'll never have to go to another pledge dance or to South Beach again.

Afghan Rescue League

I have never made an afghan.  The amount of toiling away would send me away.  So it pains me to find these works of art cast off at thrift stores. (Yes. Works of art. Sun streaming in on a colorful blanket draped across the back of a squishy couch, warm coffee in your favorite hand thrown mug, a nip in the air, a magazine you've been resisting until you could devote at least thirty minutes.  Feel it?  Work of art.)  And so I buy them, usually for about three dollars.  And I love them.

Thank you Betty (and Doris B. Rosby, and Doreen, and Eileen M, and...).  I hold your work in the highest regard, and I will tend to it lovingly.

Love, Ellen

p.s, - someday I'll show you all the others.

Fiber College 2010

I spent the last four days at Fiber College on Penobscot Bay.  What did I learn?

I learned how to really spin a yarn from Rudy Amman, and also how my spinning wheel works, and that I am far behind in my wheel maintenance.  I walked in a beginner, I walked out with confidence and the tools to spin like Ellen.  From now on, I'm going to make Ellen Yarn.

I learned what makes a delicious photo from Mary Jane Mucklestone.  I brought my sweaters with me and a group of us ducked away to a dreamy little cabin in the woods, oceanfront, and we clicked away.

I learned how to insert a zipper in a sweater, Fred Rogers style, from Elizabeth Green Musselman.  Elizabeth also taught me how to make a killer knot, well actually, a frog closure, but I plan to put this knot everywhere in the near future.

I learned sweater construction using the percentage method from Jackie Fee.  I have had the pleasure of meeting Jackie on several occasions before, but this was the first time I have heard her full lecture.  If you have the opportunity, do not miss it - you will walk away an empowered knitter.

I learned to spin core spun and boucle yarns from Josette McWilliams.  All the rules went out the window.  I think I may have found my Ellen Yarn.

So, any one of these lessons learned would leave me merrily skipping down my creative path for days.  Possibly weeks.  Or months.  But they pale in comparison to the bigger experience at Fiber College, which is next to impossible to put into words. 

I discovered there are people with seemingly obscure obsessions like me.  I hula hooped.  While knitting.  For an hour.  And I wasn't alone.  I hugged for the first time an internet friend.  From Texas. I laughed loud and hard.  I lounged at the ocean's edge with a bottle of wine and another friend, her Airstream behind us.  I teetered down a dark path with a six pack, a cell phone as flashlight, led by a handy pointer finger on a stick.  I found a woman that reminded me of my mother's twin sister.  That has never happened.  I learned about living deep in the woods off the grid, but more importantly, how to face and embrace moving back into town with a sense of moving onward and upward. 

Thanks Astrig, from the bottom of my heart.

     

Yep, 10 More Things About Me

1. I have an autographed photo of Mr. Rogers.  He's wearing a zip up sweater knit by his Mom.
2. I'm working on a pattern for a sweater right now.  Actually, right now I'm taking a break so that I can stew over how to proceed with a centered motif that could end on exactly the same row as my sample, or in twelve other places.
3. I like to think that my stash of yarn really isn't that bad.  It's possible I'm fooling myself.
4. I don't care to talk about my stash of fabric, because that would be embarrasssing.
5. I have many, many crocheted afghans.  I didn't make them.  When I find them at the Salvation Army (with a tag reading Handmade for you by Doreen) I simply cannot leave them behind.  I'm like a Cat Lady, but with afghans. 
6. My husband and I played the "if we win the lottery" game the other day.  We (we ... ha) decided we would build a yarn factory, and a camp with studio classes to go with it.  And my brother-in-law could provide sheep, and wool.  (If we win the lottery my husband would probably be better served to find a younger woman with different fantasies.)
7. I have an old knitting machine.  I guess old is relative - I got it new when I was 16.  I don't know what that says about my age.
8. I can't remember how to use my knitting machine, and the directions are no longer with it.  I don't know what that says about my age either.
9. I have a printing press, and I used to make lots of tees and kids clothing.
10. When we win the lottery we'll need to spend the money on something else, because it seems I already have everything. 

10 More Random Things About Me

1. I like feet.  But I'm really not into knitting socks like so many other knitters.
2. A friend of mine owns a shoe company.  (Isn't that cool?) I am the sample size, so sometimes I get to be a fit tester. (Isn't that cool?)  Too bad I don't knit socks.
3. I am a sweater knitter.  I've probably already said that, but it bears repeating.
4. I have never once in my life had a drink of alcohol without someone joining me.  It's not that I think I'm going to go overboard (I'm not a big drinker, but I like a cocktail or two every now and again), it's just that I don't want to ruin my streak.
5. I drive an old Toyota with 178,000 miles on it. I want to see 250,000 with the ole girl. 
6. I knit in my car. Lots. It's more cost and time effective than driving home when my kids have an engagement (we live far far away), and it keeps me out of trouble, mostly.
7. This year I bought two huge lateral filing cabinets in an effort to consolidate a bunch of paperwork.  I have one bursting bucket to finish filing... and I am doubtful it will fit. 
8. Sometimes I have a hard time figuring out which papers are really important.
9. Here is a piece of artwork pertaining to sheep and sleep.  It was in the new file cabinet.  I thought it might be important.
10. (I think Little Bo Sheep might benefit from my "never drink alone" rule.)