Urbanspinner

Sketchbooks

I lost the battery charger for my digital camera, and am waiting for a new one to arrive via mail order. In the interim, I thought I'd scan a few pages from my sketchbooks to show projects that might be, rather than projects that have been.

Ideas for rug hooking

I've tried a lot of different media over the years, but have settled on water-soluble colored pencils. I have a nice little travel case with about 20 of my most used colors, a couple of small waterbrushes, and some permanent ink pens. That's for sketching at home or vacation. But I always carry a couple of pens and a single colored pencil in my purse -- so if I'm stuck somewhere for an hour, I can sift through my brain and see if there's anything new to jot down.

Ideas for packaging spinning batts for sale. I did this in a Dunkin Donuts on the pages of a memo pad.

I often use my sketchbook to brainstorm the construction steps of a new project. These kinds of entries don't have a lot of pretty pictures, but they're immensely helpful for me later.

Constructing a padded sewing box

I'm not a prolific sketcher, to be honest. Things come in fits and starts -- like I'll be lying in bed at night and get an idea for something, and have to record it immediately before I forget. Once I get one sketch going, several more often come along, kind of like a packaged set. Then things will go quiet for a while.

Catching stray ideas for later

Not everything I think about is textile related, like these ideas at left for some art to stick around the house. And honestly, I don't do much actual designing of patterns and motifs in my sketchbooks. I generally do that work on gridded pads, since so much of what I do is based on square and rectangular textile structures.

Hopefully my battery charger will arrive in the next couple of days and I can show off a few of my latest projects -- most of which were not sketched out ahead of time. Ironic.

I don't do sweaters

Okay, I've said it. I've gone public. I have finally admitted to myself (and the world) that I am sweater-challenged. I have tried to make myself sweaters over the years and nearly all were sad, ill-fitting sacks. It's been quite discouraging.

Oh, I still dream about sweaters. I checked my Ravelry notebook the other day, and noticed that I'd favorited 173 cardigan patterns. Most of them are lace cardigans, because I really want one for the summer. (Yes, 173. Can you tell that I really, really want one?) But will I ever work even one of them? I'm beginning to doubt it. To start with, I have never felt comfortable working straight from patterns. Written-out instructions make my eyes cross, whether it's for an individual stitch pattern or for a sweater sleeve.

K to 1 st before marker, m1, sl marker, sl 1, sl marker, m1, k to end of row -- 29 (33, 37) sts. Rep last 4 rows 6 (7, 8) more times and, AT THE SAME TIME, when piece measures 15 (16, 18) in. [38 (40.75, 45.75) cm] from beg, end with a RS row.

Now I'm not stupid. I could certainly decipher and follow such instructions. Do I want to? That's a good question. Thinking about it, this could be a right brain/left brain issue. My fiber work is entirely right-brained. I work visually from diagrams or from the memorized patterns. My logical, linguistic, lefty half of the brain furnishes the entertainment by listening to audiobooks, television, and podcasts. Reading a written pattern disrupts this arrangement and makes my brain protest. "But that word stuff is supposed to come in through my ears, not my eyes. This feels terrible."

But even that I could accept -- if I knew the finished garment would fit and look good. And that's the real issue. I've got a hard body to fit: short-waisted with a big rack. A really big rack. Everything looks like a tent on me, because there's no room to taper in for a waist. (Even in college, when I was slender, my costuming instructor clucked in sympathy as I was trying to draft patterns for myself. There are some extreme curves to deal with.)

So, I've chickened out. Well, maybe it isn't chickening out so much as picking my battles. I'd rather put time into a project I know will develop well -- there are so many things I still want to make -- than begin a clumsy journey with an uncertain outcome.

So to all you lovely crafters out there who can churn out sweater after gorgeous sweater -- I raise my glass and toast your mastery of the arcane. Now if I could only bribe one of you to make a lace cardigan for me. I've got 173 potential designs you could work with...

Crochet? Why crochet?

These days I've become quite engrossed in crochet, to the exclusion of nearly every other technique. A while back someone asked me, "But aren't you going to knit anymore?" Of course I will. I've been knitting since I was 8, and will always knit. But crochet's been my recent passion for a couple of reasons.

First, I love color -- more than texture, more than shape or drape. The most satisfying handwork I do involves large colorways in a single piece. Crochet allows me to combine a zillion lovely colors with no more effort than working in a single color. Knitting has more limits. You can make stripes, do Fair-Isle patterning with floats, or <shudder> intarsia. (There are not enough words in the English language to describe how much I hate intarsia.) But all of these techniques are rather fiddly when compared to crochet. And given the state of my brain these days, fiddly is something I'd like to avoid.

The second reason is also anti-fiddly. There's only one live loop at a time on a crochet project. Nothing can fall off a needle. Stitches don't drop. It's hard to lose your place in a pattern. It's very portable. (Well, nearly always portable. Notable exception to be described later.)

Let's just pretend...

... that I've been blogging non-stop for the past year or so. That way I won't have to apologize yet again for sinking back into the silent shadows, nor explain that a couple more pianos got dumped on my head and disrupted my life for months. Because through it all I've been quietly working on projects whenever I could, and have some stuff to show off. So, ahem, I'll just start writing again and we'll call it even. Sound okay?

The cobwebs within

I promise, I really promise, that I'll get out my camera and shoot pix of my projects. Honest. It's sunny today and it's perfect for some photography. I'll get some done

Guilty apologies now aside, I've puzzled myself about something. Remember in the last post I showed you some stuff by a British woman, Attic 24? Well, I went back to her site to look up a tutorial and noticed something: she has her own Flickr group of people who are inspired by her work (here).

When I went to see it, there were many folks who posted pictures of things that looked exactly like hers -- down to the choice of colors and even her photography style. There was something that kind of bothered me about this.

My first thought was, "That's damned cheeky of her." I mean, setting up her own fan club? Then I reconsidered. Was I judging her by the typical "don't say good things about your own work" edict that I've noticed in many women? I mean, Kaffe Fassett has a fan club. No problems with that, right? Rock musicians, movie stars -- they all deliberately cultivate followers. That's socially acceptable. So why was I bothered by this woman?

Then I browsed through some of her project photos and descriptions, and bristled when I came across comments like, "Isn't this lovely? I love, love, love my blankets."

"Man, she is so egotistical!" was my first reaction. Then I reconsidered. If you read her blog, she's just brimming with enthusiasm and wants to share it everyone. She mentions yarn and crochet hooks more than she does herself. She seems like a genuinely happy person who's found her artistic medium. So why was I bothered by this?

I've been thinking about this all morning. I realized that, as much as I'd like to deny it, I haven't fully outgrown the typical socialization that's instilled in us American women from childhood on:

The freedom and newfound abilities of the 8- to 10-year-old girl are rarely fostered in adolescence as they are for boys. Rather girls are encouraged to become proper, to fit in, to rein in the explorations they find fascinating, to become a nurturer rather than striving for competence and excellence. (William G. Huitt, Valdosta State University)

This isn't something I'd expected to find within me. When I teach, I spend a good chunk of time encouraging each student to put away their inner critic and revel in their creativity. It breaks my heart when a student shows me something they've made but dismisses its value with words like, "It's not very good. Yours is much better." And I get really irritated if someone exclaims enthusiastically, "Oh that's so nice! I hate you!" when they find out I made the scarf they're admiring or whatever. Why on earth should women even jokingly express resentment in that situation?

But isn't that exactly what I was doing when I stumbled across Attic 24's fan club?

It's a bit humbling when you discover little unattractive bits of yourself lurking in dusty corners of your brain. So, in an effort to sweep away some inner cobwebs, I raise my crochet hooks and toast Lucy of Attic 24 for her enthusiasm and sense of beauty -- and for the fearless sense of self that she's wrestled from the world.

Sheepish

Sara quietly sent a little nudge my way (in the comments to my last post) so I'm writing this very brief post to let folks know that yes, I'm still alive.

Funny thing. I've done a lot of projects and I keep meaning to show them off here, but my digital camera broke, and then I got a new one that doesn't feel the same, and there's poor light here in my new apartment, and suddenly it all seemed a lot harder than it used to be. But I'll take everything out to the porch soon, where there's a little bit of sunlight, and get the pictures done. Honest, I promise.

I recently found this blog, Attic 24, that has really triggered a whole bunch of itchy, happy creative energy. A riot of colors and textures, an explosion of beauty.

Note: This is NOT my piece. It was made by Attic 24, so please,
if you love it go to her blog and leave lots of lovely compliments!,

(Look at all her drop-dead gorgeous gorgeous crochet.)

And look at her collection of pictures from her home, her "colorful bits". There's something so wonderful about someone who can embellish their living space as easily as I embellish a bag or a sweater. Personally, I'm hopeless at any sort of interior design. My house is simply my workshop and I tunnel-focus on the projects in my hands. Sometimes I don't even notice rooms around me because I've got such an intense flow of ideas running through my he.

But if I can't coordinate wall color with rugs and furniture and flower vases and lamp shades and little corners of colorful still-lifes -- it doesn't mean I can't still be inspired by it. I can make blankets and pillows and bags and leave them where I can see them. And smile at them.

So that's my creative plan for the next months. Make lots of simple colorful things and put them around the house. It won't make my place into House Beautiful, but it'll still make it my own.

Cotton puni article posted

Okay, here's another article reposted from my old blog. It is a tutorial on how to make a rolled cotton spinning prep called a "puni". I love spinning these little things - punis are my favorite fiber preparation, hands down. They are not hard to make and have all sorts of color mixing possibilities.

Read the tutorial

Yarn plying article posted

This is one of my old blog posts ("Plies and fluffiness") now rewritten as a how-to article. It's an explanation of how the number of plies you use in a yarn will affect the twist level in your singles and also the final texture of the yarn. (More plies can make a fluffier yarn.) The article isn't particularly technical, and I hope the illustrations will make my points pretty clear.

Read the article

Charkha assembly instructions posted

I've rebuilt the article on how to assemble an Indian book charkha and listed it with my How-To stuff. (List at the right) Thanks for all the suggestions about which articles you'd like to see. I'll be working on all those next.

Read the article

Pride and joy

(With thanks to the inimitable Stevie Ray Vaughn for the title)

When I got back from SOAR a few days ago, the first thing I decided to do the next morning is put together my big Alden Amos spinning wheel. I took her apart three years ago to bring her to a class, and I haven't been able to reassemble her since. (The wheel is fine. It was just me who was a bit broken.)

Well, it was time to bring her back to life. And here she is, in all her cherry glory.

Here's a close up of the bobbin/flyer area. Alden machines every piece of metal himself for an incredibly precise fit between shafts and bearings. He also hand-forged the wide metal band that holds the mother of all onto the wheel.

This wheel was custom-built for me. And when I say "custom" it isn't that I just placed an order for it and waited for it to arrive. Alden has a very interactive building process when he makes you a wheel. He sends you his infamous questionaire, in which you measure the length of your leg, the speed of your steps while walking, the climate where you live, etc. etc. The questions aren't random. Neither is his request to send him samples of your typical yarn. It isn't to critique your spinning. He needs to see how much twist you normally add to your yarn. Alden asks about your walking speed, because we generally treadle at the same pace we walk. So he puts the two numbers together, and it gives him an idea of how much twist should happen ideally with each pump of the treadle. He asks for your leg length, because he needs to know how high/low to put the treadles and flyers. And he asks about your climate because wheels that live by the ocean, for example, need to include accomodations for fluctuations in humidity.

Okay, so I filled it all out and asked for a wheel in cherry wood. With fancy spokes. And oh... the flyer needs to be on the right side, not the left. I spin at a wheel the same way I spin with a handspindle: fiber supply in left hand, right hand controlling the twist. It is far more comfortable for me to have the twist entering the yarn on the right side. That way, I can draft across my body, just as I'd do with a spindle, in a very relaxed position, no strain from twisting. Alden chewed on the right-handed flyer thing for a couple of days, but he eventually said yes and didn't give me TOO much grief about it.

Finally -- and this is the kicker -- I wanted the capabilities of different speeds to spin different yarns. In addition to the standard speed, I wanted a high-speed lace set-up, as well as a low-twist heavy duty thing to spin thick singles and rug yarns. I thought it would be a matter of getting a few different whorls.

Oh boy, I was wrong.

This is why my wheel is so singularly wonderful. You see, Alden doesn't just slap a different size whorl on a flyer and say, "There, it spins faster. Go to town." You see... simply spinning a flyer around faster doesn't help much. Why? Because there's the whole issue of take-up.

When we spin, especially when we spin fine yarns, there has to be a very precise amount of tension on the drafting triangle. We need to draw out the fiber without feeling the wheel grab it from us. At the same time, when we release the newly spun yarn, we want it to wind on the bobbin INSTANTLY, with a really robust take-up.

For this to happen, there has to be a very precise relationship between the size of the whorl, the size of the bobbin, the weight of the flyer, and the weight of the bobbin. This relationship also has to take into account the increasing weight of the bobbin as it fills with yarn. Both the empty bobbin and the full bobbin have to stay within the acceptable limits. If any of those go out of balance, the take-up goes out of whack.The wheel will either stop pulling the yarn onto the bobbin, or it will grab too hard. This, in turn, can cause issues with difficult treadling or too much wear and tear on your wheel's moving parts.

So when I asked for different speeds, Alden said the only way to do it was to provide a completely different bobbin/flyer assembly. And... I got three.

(From left to right: Lace flyer, medium flyer, jumbo flyer)

Each assembly is completely separate. From the mother of all to the bobbins to the size of the orifices, they are crafted completely differently.

 

(From left to right: orifices on the lace flyer, medium flyer, and jumbo flyer)

Anyway, at the end of all this, I have the spinning wheel of my dreams. It spins quietly, silently, and fast like the wind. No rattling or squeaking. The take-up is perfect. Treadling is effortless. I can spin as fine and fast as I want, with any drafting method I want. And when it comes time to wind onto the bobbin... zing! It's there. I barely need to adjust the tension as the bobbin fills. I can sit lazy in my rocking chair and spin comfortably for hours.

It's a delight. I'd forgotten how good it felt to spin on this wheel. Now, I can barely pull myself away from it.

Oh, and it always amuses me to bring her along with me to some spinning event. She knocks down into little pieces. (All the legs and arms and turny bits easily come apart.) So in one hand I carry the drive wheel, in the other I carry a bag with the wooden stuff. It doesn't take very long to set up again. And people always gape when a wheel emerges from the pile of sticks...