This evening I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the very young ladies for whom I knit these sweaters. They are two weeks old today, so have a while to grow into their sweaters. And they're darling (the girls, I mean).
I mean, recycling is cool, not hoarder-type nutty, right? 
If only I actually needed a yarn bra. Actually I have some cotton yarn that looks like it will probably need a little support when it starts moving around, so these might end up actually being more than detritus in my knitting gadgets drawer.
And actually, I think this deserves a
Knitting Scouts "MacGyver" badge.
For the second day of the Nordic Knitting Conference in Seattle, I took an all-day class on color in knitting. I was drawn to the topic of colorwork more than the teacher. Although her color combinations are bold and masterful, Vivian Høxbro 's garment designs are rather too dramatic for me. And to be honest, at the beginning of the day, I wasn't optimistic about the class--I even considered cutting out at lunchtime to do a little Seattle sightseeing on my own. We received a handout with instructions for knitting a color wheel. Terrific, I thought. If this is the extent of the class, a boring talk about the color wheel and knitting an ugly thing, I'm out of here.
But we didn't have to knit a color wheel in class, to my relief. 
Vivian had us wind off mini-hanks of yarn in all the colors of the color wheel. This took a significant amount of time, but it broke the ice among the students because we had to keep trading yarn hanks around.
Vivian gave a presentation showing some examples of color combinations in fashion -- and many of them I didn't care for at all. Missoni may have color down cold, but its designs leave me cold. Plus, I think the projected presentation's color was off--Vivian commented a few times that we couldn't see what she saw on her screen. Not inspiring at all.
Things got much more interesting when we got to play with all the colors, not just the 12 in the color wheel. We were asked to pick a handful of colors that we didn't like or wouldn't normally use, as well as a handful that we do like. Then we had to knit a swatch using two "don't like" colors and one "like" color. I chose teal, kelly green, and ochre. 
The teal and green came together OK, and the green and ochre worked OK, so I was able to make some transitions so that it wasn't horrible. That was a learning experience. Everyone had to explain what they did and why, which was fun. Everyone does approach color differently.
The next exercise was to work with complementary colors from the color wheel; that is, colors that are opposite of each other. I had a hard time with this one--I believe that these combinations are usually garish and/or cliched. Blue and gold just reminds me of school colors and pep-rally rah-rah; red and green makes me instantly think of overbearing Christmas kitsch. One of the most valuable things I learned from the class is that those combinations can be more subtle--they don't have to be that bald-faced. Vivan's tip was to make one of the colors dominant and use its complement as an accent. One of her sweaters was a midnight blue with small yellow blocks. The effect was of stars in a night sky.
But I struggled with the complementary exercise. I couldn't come up with a definite set of colors that I liked and that worked together. I meandered. Plus, I was starting to notice that other people were doing fancy slip-stitch patterns with their colors rather than plain stockinette stripes, so I was feeling a little inadequate about that, too.
The final exercise was to pair up with someone and pick a color combination and knit 
a swatch for them. This was really challenging to do for someone you just met a few hours before, and we all felt pressure to make something really good. It made us observe, and think, and talk to the person next to us!
Vivian brought a lot of her sweater samples and used them as examples while she talked. She told us that she didn't bring any brown, or many shades of gray, because she thinks people use them as a safe fallback. I think for the purposes of this class, she was right. The point wasn't to make tasteful color swatches.
It was interesting to work with the line of Harrisville yarns that she designs with and creates colors for. Most of them are heathered, which gives them complexity and probably helps them work together. Also, they're so thin that they don't feel good in the skein, but I can understand that a double-thickness twined or stranded material would be a more manageable weight using this type of yarn. And it probably gets softer with washing.
She concluded by encouraging everyone to try on her samples, which everyone enthusiastically did.
I saw that the construction techniques were interesting and probably really fun to knit, even if the garments aren't my style. And it made me wish that there were an event during the conference where we could look at all the teachers' samples, because they all brought amazing things.(Maybe that did happen during Saturday night's happy hour, which I missed.)
The final thing I learned in class was that there is no substitute for color swatching. You can't know how two colors will interplay until you put them together.
After class I had coffee with some work friends, and then met Janine, Ryan, TMK, and Gail for dinner. Janine took a class on Bohus knitting, which sounded wonderful. I really wished I could have seen Susanna Hansson's examples.
To the best of my knowledge, I haven't got a drop of Nordic blood, so I couldn't claim that as my reason for wanting to attend this conference; I just wanted to learn about more traditional knitting techniques and traditions. Since this conference was a rousing success, I think the museum is likely to host it again--and I would strongly recommend it to any enthusiastic knitter.
It's now the third weekend in October, so high time to tell you all about my first weekend in October. Thursday night I flew to Seattle for the Nordic Knitting Conference at the Nordic Heritage Museum.
The museum is housed in a converted school that was built in maybe the '20s or '30s. I was charmed by the architecture because I went to elementary and junior high schools that were built in the '60s, with completely character-free architecture. Y'know, open-plan buildings that didn't have classrooms, they had "pods."
So sitting in my first session of the conference, in a very old-fashioned looking classroom being lectured to by a rather formal older woman, I had a happy little "back in school" fantasy unrelated to any life experience of mine. But I thought it was a terrific reuse of a lovely old building. Apparently the museum would like to relocate to a more central location, but I think their mission of preserving and propagating the community's Scandinavian cultural heritage is very well matched to the site they're in now.
That first day's class was Viking Cables, with Elsebeth Lavold. I didn't exactly know what I was getting into, having merely flipped through her books and ogled some of her beautiful patterns and knowing that I like cables. So I really wasn't hip to the idea that Viking cables represented any kind of design innovation; aside from knowing that the designs were based on old Viking carving and metalwork designs, I never gave it much thought. I think I vaguely sort of wanted some help not getting lost when working multiple cable panels and complex cable patterns. I didn't exactly get that from the class, but I did get a more organic feel for what cables actually do (or what I'm doing when making them). Part of that came from learning to cable without a cable needle (yikes). When I didn't use the cable needle, it became much clearer that I was moving the stitches. Sounds like a big "duh," I know, but it made something conceptually click for me. Then talking about stitches "traveling" made sense--I could determine where a stockinette band went on that reverse stockinette field rather than just blindly memorizing whether a given symbol means "cable needle in front" or "cable needle in back."
As for the cables, Elsebeth first had us work a pattern from her Viking knits book, starting a cable in the middle of an open field of stitches. Again, I really didn't realize that she innovated this technique. After we mastered that basic pattern she had us free-form knit a trapezoid, to figure out where those "ribbons" needed to go and to decide for ourselves where to put the curves in.
I'm making it sound like this came easily, but it didn't, really. I was quite resistant to giving up my cable needle, partly because I missed a critical tip from Elsebeth about using the needles to prevent having four live stitches at a time off the needles as you switch their position. Just like when I was in elementary school, my attention was a little spotty that first morning, and I probably absorbed about a third of what was said. Thankfully, most of it was written down in the handout. I wasn't the only one with a furrowed brow, either. The afternoon was spent learning how to do a cabled mitered corner, which involves short rows. Until I make one of Elsebeth's lovely cardigan designs, that's going to just be knowledge for its own sake. Also, I attended the second Viking Cables session on Sunday, which started out with a reprise of the same material. I was a bit disappointed that there was so much overlap between the two, but I did get to review the information, really get what I missed the first time, and finish my swatches. What I wanted from the second class was some in-depth discussion of designing and charting your own knotted cables, but in the time before I had to leave for the airport, what was covered was basic sweater design, starting with calculating from a gauge swatch. Not exactly what I was after. I did break down and buy the book from the gift shop, and I'm likely to buy some more of her pattern books, which I know Article Pract stocks.
(And on Sunday I ended up sitting between a woman who has apparently had knitting needles in her hands from the age of three and now teaches, and another woman who knits a LOT of cables. Their reactions to the aforementioned techniques were, respectively, "Oh, how lovely," and "Oh my god, it's so cool! This is easy! I know just what to do with this!" I would never criticize someone for their excitement about an idea--but I did wish the one classmate could have expressed her excitement silently to herself.)
Elsebeth gave a presentation during Friday night's banquet describing how she came to focus on Viking cables and showing examples of some of her inspirations. I loved that, because I've been inspired so often by patterns in other media that I'd like to interpret in knitting. Clearly, Elsebeth follows through on those moments of inspiration--I'm sure that being a designer by training and by trade helps. Her presentation also made me really wish, once again, that I could draw.
There were lots of out-of-towners at this conference, many from farther away than California (not including the speakers who traveled from Scandinavian countries). Among the Bay Area contingent were Carol and Susan, whom I met last year at the knitting retreat at the Olema Inn (which is holding its retreat again next month).
In class I met a couple of women who turned out to both be friends of Feralknitter Janine, and it was a pleasure getting to know each other. Gail and I bonded over the mind-bending cabled mitered corner. I asked Regan how best to burn the two hours between the end of the session and dinner, and she invited me to head to the Fiber Gallery with her. About 30 conference attendees converged on the store at once. Everyone must have made a beeline as soon as class got out. I gotta tell ya, that store has a niiiice selection of yarn and books. I bought Evelyn Clark's Knitting Lace Triangles. Then we met up with Janine at dinner, and I got to meet Marilyn van Keppel as well.
Tomorrow: Color with Vivian Høxbro.
I just got my Ravelry invite (I'm berkeleybecca)--woo hoo! And Jane is spending the weekend in San Diego with her dad and sisters, so I can spread my stash out all over the house and stay up all night uploading photos.
I have quite a few blog posts fermenting in my brain (I'm posting this from work, which is strictly AGAINST COMPANY POLICY, but I couldn't wait), so I'll make some time for at least one more informative post than this. Going back to work now...
Edited later to add: My TiVo arrived via UPS just after I posted this afternoon. So in addition to yarn strewn all over, there will be cables and manuals and packing peanuts and superfluous remotes cluttering up the joint. And I'll likely emerge on Monday morning pale and squinting like some kind of mole. And yeah, I'm pretty embarrassed about the TiVo--both by what it says about my unhealthy involvement with TV and by avoiding it thus far because it seems too hard to set up and master.
About a week ago I was reading the arts section of the paper and an ad caught my eye. It was for one of those lady novels that don't interest me very much, but a small line at the bottom of the box said "companion knitting patterns by Berocco." Huh? The title didn't have the word knitting in it, like the knitting chick-lit novels. I made a mental note but didn't save the paper, so forgot the title.
But I checked the Berroco Web site and learned all about it, so now I can tell you--unless you've already read about it on a dozen other blogs and I'm the one who's been parked under a rock.
Some lady wrote a drama called The Family Tree, and knitting is apparently a theme. Berroco designed a set of patterns inspired by the book and is sponsoring the author's book tour. The patterns actually don't suck. Nora Gaughan's influence is definitely improving the quality of Berocco's designs.
I'm still making holiday goodies and thinking I'll get those last New Year's greetings into the mail. And knitting a gift scarf. It'll be an MLK Day gift, that's all. I had most of this week off and got to spend it mostly how I chose, so I just kept on with the holiday baking. And I bought another Christmas album this afternoon and listened to it all the way through.
I went to Down Home Music in El Cerrito this afternoon to pick up a birthday gift for an almost-3-year-old whom Jane and I know, and found a Sarah McLachlan holiday CD. I love her voice, and some of her songs, and this CD contains a bunch of carols that I'm sentimentally attached to from childhood. So I was happy to buy both records there, and do my tiny bit to support an East Bay institution.
And then I took a moment to remember another East Bay institution. The Ivy Room reopened on December 15--I drove by that evening and noticed that it was open and (horrors!) looked well-lit and way too schmancy. So tonight I stopped in on my way home to check it out up close. On the plus side, the bartender is perfectly nice (he took my shit about whether they had instituted a dress code with good grace), and they have an intriguing drink menu. The drinks aren't cheap anymore, but I can deal with that. On the minus side, if the decor is any indication, they seem to be angling for a none-too-sophisticated crowd of 22-year-olds. One side of the bar is decorated in almost passable thrift-store lounge chic. The other side, where the *bar* is, looks like a living room out of a Sears catalog. As a result, I felt perfectly at home whipping out my knitting. I don't think they plan to book bands anytime soon, if at all. I'd have to stop by later in the evening to get a sense of the crowd--the bartender said it's mostly the after-work crowd, plus some locals.
The buyers of the Albatross were able to clean up the grime without killing the character of the place. Why couldn't the new Ivy Room owner do the same? Damn.
Really, I've got that clutching feeling in my chest. I was dinking around on the Web, looking for a good West Marin restaurant for Jane's b-day dinner, when I see that there will be a knitting retreat at the Olema Inn in November. It looks rawther pricey, but dang, I think I deserve it.
If you're reading this blog (hello out there?), it's 95 percent certain that you'll be knitting during the Super Bowl this coming Sunday. But will you be watching the Super Bowl while you knit? Purposefully avoiding watching the Super Bowl? Where will you be and what will you be doing (in addition to knitting) on Sunday?
As for me, I haven't yet decided where I'll be avoiding the game. Maybe I'll take the time to make my maiden visit to ImagiKnit in the city--and not buy anything.
As usual, I've been piling up items to report, and taking no photos at all. And starting too many things and not finishing enough. So. Last week I received Folk Socks (courtesy of a Christmas Amazon gift certificate) as well as The Sweater Workshop. I've begun reading Folk Socks, and shoot--it really rocks, just like the Harlot said. I wonder if Kate knows there's a pattern for Scottish kilt hose in the book. Finally, the narrative explanation of sock construction that I've needed all along, although I still want a diagram of sock anatomy and construction. When they say pick up stitches and knit across the instep, I want to see it. Don't make me picture needles #1 and 3 in my head--show me.
This week has been all about two things: preparing for my half-marathon on Sunday, and Macworld Expo. Last Saturday, before it really started raining again, I did my last long training run and strategized about how I'll handle the actual run. It really helped with the jitters I was feeling, and helped me put it into perspective. I have a really solid endgame strategy now: It consists of handfuls of Advil, washed down with margaritas drunk through a bendy straw while lying on my side in the fetal position. This will follow my strong 8-mile run and refreshing 5-mile walk.
On Sunday I got a deep-tissue massage at the Claremont Hotel, courtesy of a birthday gift certificate I hung onto. I have to say it's a wonderful splurge--after they get done kneading the knots out of your back, they put a hot towel on you and cover you up with a blanket--then they start on your neck. I can't afford to do that very often, but I think I can come up with an excuse about once a year.
I made some progress on the second Noro mitt, as well as making a mistake in the pattern--but I'm not going to rip back. I'd like to think that the pattern deviation provides some welcome variety. I'm no slave to convention or rules.
Because we're headed out on a long road trip this weekend (the half-marathon is in San Diego), I cast on for the second Mer-Made sock, so I'll have something brainless to knit in the car. We'll see if my new-found understanding of sock construction translates into a better-looking sock. And because I have no self-control, I also cast on for the colorwork hat for Jane. The two main colors are a dark brick red and a pale, heathered sage; it will have charcoal-black accents. I had to buy about 8 different colors of Cascade 220 to settle on this 3-color combination--and the purple skein that's about the shade of boysenberry yogurt, I don't know. I don't think I really like it. We started with a purple-gray-black color scheme, but I rejected that right quick. Since I bought the yarn at different times in different states, I found that my preferred local yarn shop's prices are on the high side, but I guess you do pay something for convenience. And the Latvian braid that borders this hat kicks butt--I'm in love with it. I'm only partway through the first colorwork repeat, though. When I have more done, and when it's not the dead of night, I'll take pictures.
For the past two days I've been at Macworld Expo for my job, meeting with hardware and software makers, and seeing what's new for Macintosh. It's rather more interesting than a typical computer trade show, mostly because Macs are used in publishing and other creative professions, so the products are aimed at media professionals--it's often products that I would use in my day-to-day job.
Anyway, between work deadlines, travel, and the race, it's likely to be another several days before I post again. Wish me luck and stamina on Sunday.
