The Balance of Lace ( part 2)

The story of the Daughter Desert Dancer, posted here, has been telling itself to me as I knit Titania's Waltz, a soft pale pink lace scarf designed by The Yarnarian.

The scarf is 39 stitches wide. And if the pattern is to read correctly, it is essential to maintain that count of 39. It's an easy reference; count the stitches and know instantly if I've erred or succeeded. Those 39 stitches are the sentinels. They are the tortoise, the rock, the hills and the bush, of my scarf. They stand guard, gently, but firmly guiding me, and the stitches, in a relationship of yarn, holes, needles and fingers that bears witness to the waltz.

Holes and solid spaces create the pattern guarded so vigilantly. The holes are made by a YO, wrapping the yarn around the needle without knitting it. The solid spaces are knitted. But in the 4 YO/decrease rows, the solid space knitting takes a certain twist. The YO of the holes adds one stitch for every YO. This must be balanced by decreasing stitches in the solid knitted areas for the stitch count to remain 39. It is a dance between the increasing holes and decreasing solid areas. How odd! The hole, a void, increases, while the solid area decreases. Such is the dance of lace.

The first two YO/dec rows create the foundation of the pattern. Ordered YOs outline, and two decreases either side of a solitary knit stitch separate, the 39 stitches into clusters. The third YO/dec row gathers the stitches together more clearly, using the solitary centered knit stitch of the first two rows as a destination. This third row is my favorite row of the entire pattern. In this row, three different kinds of decreases are used to balance the YOs. Three! And here the dance becomes even more subtle in its arching toward those sentinels. The three different decreases not only maintain the stitch count, but create the reaching, or gathering up, of the stitches toward the center. First, a SSK decrease reaches to the left. Then a SSKP dec gathers the center, and then a final reach by a K2tog leans to the right.The fourth, and final YO/dec row brings the stitches to a crescendo, albeit a gentle one, with a final gathering into place.

The simple movements of yarn, needles and fingers create, as if from nothing, a visible dance, a recognizable motif. It is as if there was an image just lying in wait, ready for the moment when it might be called upon to appear. I wonder about these images, how universal they, and knitting might be, and what other images lie waiting in the depth, waiting to be revealed. How deep is the reservoir of these images and where does it lead?

There is, of course, no way to reasonably answer these questions. They are soul questions, in the way that Heraclitus describes soul. He says, "You could not discover the limits of the soul, even if you traveled by every path in order to do so; such is the depth of its meaning." How, then, to know these things? To find a path, to greet the images and allow them into my space? For me, it is simply to arch toward the rock, walk softly where tortoises live, stretch to embrace the hills, listen closely to the rocks, and, of course, to knit where holes make more and solids make less.


YarnYenta - thank you. thank you very much.

The Balance of Lace (part 1)

Once upon a time, an art professor told a story about his daughter. She was a dancer and she went out to the desert to dance. She stood in the sand, posed, listened, and began to move. Her arms reached out into the sky. Her feet felt their way along the earth. And in the reaching and the stepping, she felt . . . nothing. She stretched further, and stepped harder. But her gestures evaporated into the dry air. She stopped, confused. Why was the desert not answering? Why was it so silent?

"Why," she asked the yellowish green bush in front of her. And in asking, she leaned toward it, arching her back and the creosote bush whispered in the breeze.

"Why?" she implored the distant hills, spreading her arms as wide as the hills.

"Why?" she whispered to the tortoises beneath the ground and her feet began to tap lightly.

"Why?" she sang to the steady rocks who murmured in their ancient silent language.

Leaning, arching, whispering, spreading her arms and singing, she began to move in the area bounded by those sentinels. She danced, and she knew the why.

continued here

Where Land and Water Meet

Certain words and phrases get stuck in my head, rattle around for awhile, and if they survive, end up as woven or beaded artwork. I have no idea why or how that process works, just that it does. So, a week ago, I gave into the incessant echo of "As Above, So Below," and began to follow its path to becoming art.

I know that "As Above, So Below" is a series of woven pieces and that it has to do with that edge where land and water meet. The ancient Greeks believed, as many traditional cultures do, that bodies of water are the openings to the Underworld. They saw the image of the tree on land reflected seemingly upside down in the lake, but instead of a reflection, they saw another world, just like this one, only reversed. When I was working extensively with dreams, many people in my dream group had dreams of familiar places, yet reversed. In these dreamscapes, houses on the left side of a street in this reality, were on the opposite side in the dream. Doors and windows traded places. Old people were young, young were old. The Greeks saw this in waking life, in lakes and streams, as well as in oracles and dreams.

I decided one day to try and see this reversal at a lake at El Dorado Nature Center. I stood on the wooden bridge, staring across the lake to where the land and water meet.I waited. And waited. And then it happened. The reflection on the water of the trees was not a reflection, a right angle depiction of the land, but instead it went down, straight down. The trees and bushes continued, upside down, delving deep into the unknown regions of that lake.

note: click on images to embiggen

This is the place where I looked:



And this is that image cropped and manipulated in Photoshop:



This new image matches the format of several woven pieces I have done in the past, measuring about 16 inches wide and 70 inches high. I like the banner-like quality and its suitability for painted warps and brocade. So, using this image as a "sketch," I wound a warp of 20/2 cotton, washed and prepped it, and today I dyed it.

First, the warp was stretched out on a table. I am somewhat casual about this, not requiring that every thread be in perfect alignment. The purpose of the dyeing is to create the background, a sort of overall color sense that the brocade and tabby woven areas can follow.




The warp must be weighted in some way so that it stays put on the table. This is my very sophisticated solution.




Once the warp is spread out, the dyeing can begin. I layer the dyes, creating colors that are literally deep, built one upon another. The first layer is bright - like Springtime.




Successive layers are built up until that nice, deep, murkiness is achieved:

Note the helper-cat in the far right corner.

Once the colors are what I want, the warp is covered with plastic wrap. It will rest in its swampy cocoon until tomorrow. This resting time allows the fiber reactive dye to chemically bond with the cotton fiber.




Usually, I would let the dyed warp rest for about 24 hours and then rinse it, dry it and warp my loom. But, we are leaving for up north on Wed, so instead I will let it dry while I am gone and then rinse it when I get back.

Done with the dyeing for today, only two things remain to do. First, clean up the mess. Dyeing is messy. Colorful messes, but still messes.




And, then, mess cleared away, well, it's time to rest, just like the warp. Or the helper-cat.






AlisonH - yes, and such a good way to stay connected within nature.

Blue Skies, Not Orange

It's been awhile since I've blogged - over a month, in fact. It's not that there weren't bloggable things going on or that I didn't have anything to say. No, my life has been active and filled with happenings and projects. It's just that I didn't blog about them.

Sometimes I worry about these silences, as if the world was waiting on tiptoe, peering over some imaginary fence, just to see if I had blogged today. But the truth is, the older I get, the less I worry about such things. The more committed, and the easier it is, to just follow where my life takes me, with an occasional prod and nudge from my ego, but mostly just wondering as I get up each day, what will today be like?

One morning, this full moon greeted me. The first thing that I noticed was the color of the sky. It was gray, with a hint of blue. There was no orange or brown, as had been the way of the previous days' skies. The typical Southern California wildfires, that used to wait until autumn and the Santa Ana winds, had begun this year in summer. And the sky, filled with smoke, turned orange. But this morning, blessedly, the sky was blue, with a bit of fog adding a grayish cast.

I was reminded of cycles. The cycle of the moon, the sun, the subtle seasons of this place where I live and even of the fires. And also my own cycle, how quiet times mesh with more open times, how activity flows into ease and how I love the summer and the sunshine, but am looking forward to the chill of winter and, hopefully, some rain.

Sometimes, I have learned, I just don't do certain things. And without a daily job or family to care for, other than the cat and, occasionally, very occasionally, Doug, I can get by with that now. I can wake up, walk outside to my work area and stare at the moon, being grateful that the sky is blue and not orange. It's a very good way to live a life.


Ruth - yes, you could, and for that reason, maybe I won't write about my leisurely mornings anymore, because if you retired from retirement, well, where would I get my yarn? ;-)

A Kreativ Award

Awhile back, the Yarnarian surprised me by giving me this award. The rules are that, in order to keep this award, I must name seven of my favorite things and pass it on to seven of my favorite blogs. So, here goes.

Favorite Things:

1. My husband, Doug. Not exactly a "thing," but you know what I mean. And it's not just him, but him and me and us and this relationship that we have crafted over the years and that continues to be a WIP.

2. All of my pets and the animals in my life, including, of course, the current Ms. SarahCat and Mr. Toby, but also Shadow, TC, Eric, Bis, Tasha, Buster, Turbo, Babs, and all of the rest.

3. Weaving, knitting and beading. My greatest teachers and passion. They provide a lens through which I view the world.

4. My faith and the opportunity to practice it. And, I do mean "practice."

5. Friends, online and off.

6. The plants, animals, weather and everything else that surrounds me and continuously amazes me.

7. Creativity - not just mine, but mostly others. Creativity is a great source of joy, wisdom and beauty for me.

And now for the blogs, some of which I know have been awarded before:

1. SpinDyeKnit- the inimitable AlisonH. The embodiment of creativity, hope and Faith and a model of why and how creating things matters.

2. The Seated View - Lene, whose sense of humor, rants, grace (yes, Lene, you do have grace) and intelligence opens up the world in ways I never dreamed.

3. The Yarnarian - I know, I know. You gave me the award. But eye candy plus humor? Not to mention things that I need to buy? How can I resist?

4. The Daily Coyote - The adventures of Shreve (the person), Charlie (the coyote), Eli (the cat), Daisy (the cow) and adorable Chloe (hound dog). Great story and magnificent photography. Don't just read the blog, get her book.

5. Weaving a Life - Laura Fry, master weaver, but more than that. She's dedicated to creating her life through weaving. A lot of us talk it, Laura does it.

6. Mr. Flapper Duck - Flapper, with a wry sense of humor and the good cause of being kind to animals, writes, with his silly human, about being a duck and the chore of teaching humans.

7. Crafting Chaos - Her Mother Project, IMO, is a healing presence for mothers and daughters everywhere.

That's it. It occurred to me while writing this, that some of these people don't even know how much I benefit from having them in my world. I think it's time that I told them.

Thanks, Ruth (the Yarnarian)!

Humility, Take Me to the Pond

One of the many blessings of Sock Madness is doing a range of sock techniques, most of which I had never tried. A down side of Sock Madness is that, because you must follow the pattern exactly as written, the socks don't always fit exactly right. But those two things combined, new techniques and fit, inspired me to now make socks that fit me well and notice which toes, heels, insteps and other constructions work best for me. So, last night found me revamping the gusset on the On-Hold toe-up socks by Wendy Knits!.

I had used this heel flap/gusset structure in Lacey Ribs and it worked reasonably well, but was a bit tight across the heel/instep, even with Lacey Ribs' inherent stretchiness due to its ribbed lace pattern. So, I decided to increase the gusset on the On-Hold socks.


I got out my graph paper and charted the gusset and heel by the instructions in the book so that I could see what was happening. From there, I came up with a sort of formula for how it worked, double checked my formula against the numbers in the book. Yay! It worked. Then I figured it for the increases I wanted to make. First lesson in humility: All that I really needed to do was use the numbers for the next size, which were the numbers I came up with for my desired increase. But, all of my figuring had taught me the principle behind this construction, so that was definitely worth the time and effort.

So, off I went to knit. Increased the gusset stitches as required. All was well and good. Then I began to turn the heel. A little tricky, not because of my changes, but just because I'm not familiar enough to do this construction easily, yet. Give me time. I'll get there. Finally, heel turned successfully, wraps nicely hidden, knit across, begin lace pattern on front of foot. Oops. The count is off.



See that bottom arrow? That points to a correct center of the pattern. See that top arrow? The center of the pattern has wandered one stitch to the left. How could I not notice this? Well, probably because I was so busy patting myself on the back for figuring out the heel.

Off to the Frog Pond for me, with Humility as my guide.

edited to add: For those of you not familiar with knitters' jargon - The Frog Pond is where we go to rip our mistakes. Why? Because what do the frogs tells us? Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit.

Projects. I have Projects.

There are people who begin a project, and then wait until they have completed that one before they start another. I know these people must exist, completing one project and then beginning the next, although I haven't ever really met one myself. My MIL came close. She never began the many knitted projects that she admired the entire time I knew her because she had not yet finished a sweater begun back when she was first married. Then, there are people who begin a project, and another, and another, and another until there are so many projects that when they finally actually physically leave this plane, they leave a lot of UFOs behind. These people I know exist because I have not only met one, but was raised by one. It took me forever to sort through my mom's UFOs, some of which were not only unfinished objects, but also unknown. I'm somewhere between these two, but still, I've got projects.

Right now, I am actively working on:

Fair Isle socks designed by YarnYenta on Ravelry for a KAL with the PennyRose group:

I'm actually further along on these, but not by much.

On-Hold socks from the Wendy Knits! Toe-UP Socks book, also part of a KAL on Ravelry:

A Spiral Sweater designed by Shelly Kang:

Yes, I have a ways to go, but, hey, you have to start somewhere.

A shawl that I found while searching my stash for yarn to start the Spiral Sweater:

And an entrelac scarf that is my carry along project:

In addition to all of this knitting, there are the projects that I tend to think of as my artwork, only because they are based around concepts rather than a pattern, cannot and will not be repeated, and pull from me in a different way than my knitting does. Also, they are not portable and can't be done while chatting online or in person. I work on them in my studio in solitude, and don't share much about them until they are done. But, you've seen bits and pieces of them on the looms in my previous post and at the bottom of this post.

One time when I was feeling overwhelmed by everything that I could work on that day, I asked myself, "So, Linda, just what would you do if you finished up every single project that you're working on?" The answer was obvious, I'd start some more projects. 'Nuff said. I'm happy with projects.