apparknitchik

again! again!

Yes, yet again, a third Liesl.  This one is a shop sample in Velvet Wool (really love the Velvet Wool):

And this won't be the last Liesl.  Yep, there's a fourth one in the planning stages -- it'll be kind of an interesting project, which I'll document here once I get around to it (hoping right after this Liesl is done, but the reality is I still have to put a workshop together for the beginning of March, so that'll take priority). 
 

the hole is not too deep

I've been doing a lot of sample knitting lately, and I've started feeling like I'm turning into a bit of a magnet for patterns that are either mistake-ridden, or if they contain no mistakes, still leave some things so unclear as to make it difficult for a knitter to know what's being asked.

And in no fewer than three patterns in a row I've found the abbreviated instruction "M1" with no explanation of what that means and how to work it.

Now, you'd think being an experienced knitter would help with that.  Up to a point, you'd be right, because I do happen to know that "M1" stands for "Make 1", meaning make a new stitch.  In other words, it's an increase.

That said:  there are several ways to make a M1.  I'll set aside the occasional use in vintage patterns, where a M1 can mean a YO (yarn-over, wrapping the yarn around the needle to make a hole) -- Furze Hewitt uses it this way in her books on vintage lace patterns.

The most common way to M1?  Knit into the front and back of the stitch.

Another way to do it?  Lift the bar between two stitches and knit into it.  There are two variations on this, the M1L and M1R (make 1 left and make 1 right), so depending on whether you pick up the bar from the front of the work or from the back, you can make the M1 lean left or right, which can be important if you want things to look Just So.

So, I know this information.  Many of you do, too.  So I suppose you're wondering why I'm complaining?

Because of those three patterns with their undefined instructions.  In each of the three cases, I was presented with a M1 with no further definition of how to work it.  And each time?  I chose the wrong way to work it, until I either figured it out for myself, or contacted the pattern writer to ask for clarification.

And each time?  I had to rip out and re-do or rip out and re-start.

So what would have prevented that?  Simple -- the pattern writer could have defined what they meant by that abbreviation.  Frankly, I think that's a common courtesy for your potential knitter.

And what does the title of this post mean in all this? 

It comes from a story I heard this morning, told by Ajahn Brahm, the abbot of the Bodhinyana Monestary in Serpentine, Australia -- in the story, a man stands at the edge of a hole, at the bottom of which is a treasure.  He can't reach the treasure, and upset, complains that the hole is too deep.  Another man comes along, takes a stick, and retrieves the treasure.  The problem, he says, is not that the hole is too deep, it's that your arms are too short.  If you complain that the hole is too deep, you'll end up with nothing.  If you realize your arms are too short, you can find a solution.

So, maybe it's not that the M1 hole is too deep:  it's just that in order to reach the treasure -- in order to know which M1 to use where, and to know specifically which M1 a designer wants you to work -- well, maybe the solution is to have the designer tell you how.  In the pattern.  By simply defining the term as he or she used it.

And that's what I wish:  that designers would put themselves in the shoes of the people who will knit their patterns, and make that experience an enjoyable one for the knitter.  Make the knitter feel like they've worked this pattern and have retrieved the treasure from the bottom of the hole.

Because really?  The hole is not too deep for that.  We just need to make sure the knitters have the tools they need.  All of them.

anticipation

Lately much of my knitting has been samples that will go to Shall We Knit? out in New Hamburg. 

Now, yarn shops have samples knit up for a reason -- the main one being, of course, that seeing a particular item or a particular yarn knit up can be much more inviting for a potential customer.  Seeing how the yarn works up, seeing how the pattern looks in real life -- and being able to try on a finished item to decide how it looks -- all of that can mean that it's easier to make a sale.

But there's more to it than that.  A good sample knitter -- by that, I mean one who can analyze the pattern as he or she works through it, taking notes -- a good sample knitter anticipates what the experience will be like for the customer. 

Are there quirks in the pattern that might trip someone up?  Are there actual mistakes?  If there are, can an errata be found, and easily?  And if not, how accessible is the pattern designer or the yarn company, and how helpful are they when questions are asked?  Are there any tips or tricks that can be passed on to make the project more enjoyable to work on?

I'm always thinking about these things when I knit a sample, and I pass the information on to the shop so that they can better help customers. And I think that's what makes a difference -- how responsive and supportive a shop can be, beyond merely selling the yarn.

I'm thinking about this because the last two samples I've worked on have presented me with challenges, particularly in how the patterns are written up, and how I've had to approach the projects and make changes and figure out how to diplomatically convey that information to others.  Because the one thing you DON'T want to do is diss people's efforts, their designs, their products (oh, well, unless they are truly vile, but that's rare, I think).  As someone who noodles out the occasional pattern, I'm aware that most people doing that are doing it because they have an idea that they think is worth sharing (or worth being paid for, and there's nothing wrong with that).  They are creative, they are creating something -- usually something beautiful or at least solid and useful, in the case of knitting.

So it's a matter of balance:  being fair in one's criticism (and by criticism I mean thoughtful analysis of positives and negatives, not an opportunity to take pot shots at people), and looking after the needs of potential customers/future knitters of the items in question.

Over the next few posts I'll take a look at those two projects I mentioned and try to present a constructive view of things. 

In the meantime, though?  I've got to go dig out another project, because I'm waiting to hear a response back from the designer of the item I tried to start today, and couldn't work on because I didn't feel completely clear about what was being said in the pattern.  It's New Year's Day, so I'm not likely to hear anything right away. 

But I can't help thinking what I'd be feeling if I were a customer who'd bought this kit, and who'd hoped to start it while on holiday and probably finish it over the next couple of days, only to discover I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, and having to put the project on hold while I waited for some answers.

I think I'd be frustrated and disappointed.

And that, precisely, is what I think about when I knit samples:  what can I offer so that customers won't have to feel that way? 

cashmere. need i say more?

 

Not the best photo, but it was too cold and windy and snowy this morning to take it outside and pose it more artfully.

However -- that's the truest photo of the colour that I've taken.

The project:  the Hallie scarf, from the Cashmere Scarf for Her Kit from Jade Sapphire Exotic Fibres.

Yep, cashmere.  Which I so totally cannot afford to knit with, so I'm grateful to have had the chance -- this will be a shop sample for Shall We Knit? in New Hamburg.

The yarn is glorious.  And the actual kit is rather nicely put together -- four hanks of the yarn in a plastic case, with a pattern leaflet in on card in full colour with a choice of 7 scarf patterns.

I chose to make Hallie because I liked how simple it was, yet finished, it curls and drapes quite nicely -- it was just a little bit different from all the others, and IMO made the best use of the yarn.

A couple of caveats:  I was less than happy with the vagueness of the patterns -- given the care taken to put the kit together (which is worth it, when we're talking cashmere), I would have liked just a little more effort in the patterns.  Essentially:  no gauge is given (we're told it varies by pattern), needle sizes are given in a range (you choose the size needed "to achieve desired fabric") and measurements are approximate.

There is an errata on the Jade Sapphire web page.

One of the things I noticed on Ravelry is that the one other person (and I think there might be two now) who made this ran out of yarn.  So, I weighed my yarn as I went along, and decided that I wouldn't have quite enough to finish -- I cast off after row 29, instead of 30 as the pattern indicated.

In the end, I thought that I *might* have been able to squeek out that last row -- but with almost 600 sts on the needes, I really didn't want to try and not be right.  And I will say that I spliced the new yarns in when I joined them, and if I hadn't done that -- if I'd left ends and worked them in afterwards -- I *definitely* would have run out of yarn.

This isn't an issue with the other scarves, all of which are knit lengthwise.  But it is a problem with Hallie, because it's knit widthwise -- you cast on, and increase to make the curve in it, and cast off all those stitches at the end, so it's not quite so easy to fudge as it would be for the other scarves.

That said -- it's beautiful, and soft, and lovely, and I wish it were mine.  Despite the caveats, I still think it's So Totally Worth it.

 

back in...well...not black, at any rate

Yeah, yeah, start a new blog, and then stop posting to it.  What can I say?  After six months of furious knitting, I hit a slump, and didn't knit much of anything for months. 

And what finally broke the slump?  This:

 

It's the Daybreak Shawl by Stephen West.  In Skacel Zauberball, but for the life of me, I can't remember more details than that, and I can't turn up my notes at the moment.

A closer look:

 

Sharp eyes might notice that I added a few more striped rows than the pattern called for.  Also, some garter stitch at the bottom edge, because it just didn't feel finished to me without it.

And it broke the slump.  So there's rather a lot of knitting going on around here, I just have to remember to write about it.

 

so, how lucky am I?

Very lucky, as it turns out.  Very, very lucky.

So I was sitting here yesterday working on a presentation I'm making in Kingston the end of June, when the phone rang.

It was Ted.  He was on his way back from the Men's Knitting Retreat, and was going to be driving through town on his way home, so would I like to come for lunch?

Well, of course!

But that wasn't all -- in addition to having the pleasure of his company for a couple of hours, Ted also gave me this:

 

Yes, that is Miralda's Triangular Shawl (from Nancy Bush's book Knitted Estonian Lace, which he wrote about on his blog a while back.

And now it's mine!  All mine!

No, the colour in that photo isn't quite right, it's not a sage green, it's a beautiful, deep, grassy green,  You can't tell that from this photo, either:

 

The lovely thing about this shawl is that it is neither ethereal, nor is it a sturdy work-horse.  It's somewhere in between, having enough substance, yet also very pretty at the same time.  I'm going to love throwing it over my shoulders on cold mornings while I sit here and work.

So, Ted?  Thanks (xbazillion).

oops, i knit it again

Liesl Mach One is finished -- has been for a few days, was washed and blocked, and now all it needs is buttons (don't get me started on that rant, because the Quest for Buttons is a post for another day.  Or two.)

The surprise?  The thing fits.  Perfectly.  (Okay, the sleeves are a smidge long, but okay).  And I liked it so much, I decided I needed another one:

 

The yarn is Rowan Cork (yes, when I like a yarn, they discontinue it. Be very afraid for Felted Tweed, which is my fave yarn ever) in the deliciously named colourway "Sour".  Bought the yarn in a stopover in London on our way back to Canada, had half knit myself a very funky sweater that I abandoned when I gained weight.  Finally decided I couldn't count on losing the weight, so I'm repurposing the yarn into a Liesl.

Because one of the things I'm bound and determined to do this year is knit up a whole whack of my stash.

Okay, now I've gotta go knit.  Liesl One photos when I get some buttons.  Or not, given the lack of buttons around here. 

the sweater that ate my blogpost

Liesl grows:

 

Yeah, crappy photo.  Late at night, what can I say, Ott lamps don't work miracles.

I will say after trolling around the interwebs a bit, I am concerned about how this will fit. I think the main problem I'm seeing is that some people don't make the yoke deep enough, so that it ends up tight and pulls everything else out of alignment.  I'll be honest, I've seen this mostly on people who are skinny as all getout, so maybe that has something to do with it?

I did try the yoke on, and decided that maybe I should add a couple of repeats before separating out the sleeves and body.  I'm almost worried now that maybe I should have added a third.  But I'm on my way down the body now, so I guess it's in for a penny, in for a pound.

It's lace. It'll block, right?

Right...

watch this space

So.  After a couple of months working with my head down, nose to the grindstone, I finally finished up a few patterns in time for the DKC Spring Frolic.  Sunday I crashed.  Monday and Tuesday were spent cleaning up my workroom and getting myself prepared to start in on my next big project.

I knew I needed something to work on this week that wasn't work related in any way, that was just something I could pick up yarn and needles and pattern and follow instructions and go.

So when I found myself pulling Sharon Miller's Wedding Ring Shawl off the shelf and reading through the pattern, I knew that I had to quench that bit of crazy pretty quickly.  Oh, for sure, it would take my mind off work.  But then I wouldn't want to put it down in a week's time, and frankly, after what happened to my Princess Shawl (I spent a month working on it, then had a nasty fall and couldn't knit much of anything for months, and I'm still trying to work up the energy to figure out what I was doing on Princess when I suddenly had to stop working on it.  There was a brief moment yesterday when I tried to convince myself that knitting the Wedding Ring Shawl would be a good step towards reviving Princess...)

Last night, I got thinking about the Liesl that I'd seen on Saturday, and how nice it was, and how I'd put that on a Knit One Day list when it came out.  So, I went and downloaded the pattern, realized I had yarn in the stash and an appropriate sized needle (rare for me -- pattern calls for a 7.0 mm needles, and I rarely use anything above a 4.0 mm.  I figured this was a sign.)

I cast on, I started knitting, and after a bit, here's what I had:

 

Colour is off, of course, as I was taking that late at night.  More photos and additional details as I make some progress.  But it's turning out to be just the perfect transitional project right now.

i can knit, or i can blog about it

It seems I've lost the knack of writing about projects currently on the go, so when I disappear, it's because I'm busy in the middle of working on something, and only remember that maybe I could track progress here on the blog.  You'd think after so many years blogging I'd have the hang of that...

So, a couple of pictures of things I've finished recently.

First, the Sierra sweater from Jane Ellison's first Mirasol Collection:

 

This is a shop sample for Karen at Shall We Knit -- it's in a lovely shade of yellow/gold Cotonani.  I've got some blue set aside to knit one of this for myself.

I should point out that Cotonani has been discontinued.  It figures.  Whenever I like a yarn, it disappears. 

Next up:

 

It's a Swirl Shawl, from Jojoland, knit in Jojoland Melody.  Easy and, if I'm honest, a bit boring after a while.  And I'm not sure I'm as keen on the rectangular shape for myself.  I think I might try this again, laying the modules out a little differently.  Might spin my own yarn for it, too.

I've also spent rather a lot of time in the last while knitting beaded cuffs/wrist warmers/pulse warmers/whatever you'd like to call them.  I've got some patterns that will appear on Patternfish, but this one is already there:

 

The pattern is called "Chandni", and it was a bit of a challenge -- Shall We Knit got some colours of Shibui Sock yarn in stock, and I decided to try to come up with a new pattern for the DKC Spring Frolic.  Crazy, yes, but I'm kind of pleased at how they turned out.

That's about it -- I have a project I'm working on that I can't blog about yet, and I'm still trying to decide if I should start something new as well, or just concentrate on the one thing.

Oh, almost forgot -- I just found out I'm going to have a pattern published in the summer issue of Knitty.  I can't post anything about it here on the blog, but Amy Singer did say that I could show it off in person, so if you know me, see me at knit night, you can ask to see it.