The Independent Stitch

On trial versions of software

This is an aside to another post that I'm working on, but it's gotten long enough that I'm just going to put it out there while I continue writing about the main topic.

I've been working on learning several new pieces of software. I've had to figure out how to do new things with Adobe Acrobat 9, and I am actively (if slowly) learning DevonThink and experimenting with MarsEdit. My list for the future includes improving my HTML knowledge in what we jokingly call my spare time. And so on.

I truly appreciate software trials that are based on a certain number of hours (or noncontiguous days) of usage, rather than a calendar-limited span. My time is so divided between various responsibilities that months can go by between when I download and install a program, when I open it for the first time, and when I start figuring out how to use it.

With a generous but limited number of hours of access to the fully functioning program, I can spread my learning over the long time it takes me to thoroughly evaluate.

The "fully functioning" aspect is important. If I can only input six records, I can play around but I can't tell whether the system will work for me. Same goes for printing. I don't care if there's a watermark across every printout that says "TRIAL VERSION," but I do need to print.

If I have an allotment of time that I can use in convenient increments and complete access to the program, I can put the program (and myself) through enough paces to do a real evaluation. I can either find out that it won't work for me or get so hooked on it that the licensing fee seems trivial.

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Scrivener was the first program I evaluated on this model.

"Download Scrivener and try it for yourself. The trial runs for 30 days of actual use: if you use it every day it lasts 30 days; if you use it only two days a week, it lasts fifteen weeks. Once the trial expires, you can export all of your work or buy a licence to continue using Scrivener."

Well into, but not at the end of, the test period, I happily purchased my license. I began recommending it to everyone I come across who writes, plans courses, or otherwise needs to organize a lot of material. Later I bought my daughter a copy that she used to write her master's thesis. I upgrade without hesitation, and I can't imagine living without it. (Although Scrivener was Mac-only for a long time, there is now a PC version in beta.)

All software should be so good that it's a joy to pay the developer for the privilege of using it.

Scrivener was pretty easy to move into. I was running with it almost immediately, although it still has a lot of functions I'm not using yet. Ramping up my skills with that program is also on my to-do list.

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With a heavy-duty program with a forbidding threshold, it takes time to figure out first how to make it work and then whether it will earn its keep by handling tasks that need to get done by this person working in this environment.

That's where I am with DevonThink. It's really powerful. I think I'm going to love it. I'm not there yet, even though I am working (as time permits) with both the program's own help system and with Take Control of Getting Started with DevonThink 2, by Joe Kissell. I'm still, thankfully, in the trial period, after several months: most of my time is spent reading about the program, dipping into it to look at something, then going back to thinking about how it will fit my needs. I'm throwing URLs into an inbox. I haven't begun sorting them yet, nor have I imported my PDF collection. Thank heaven, I have

"150 hours of non-continuous runtime free trial, 200 email messages and 20 OCR runs per day."

If I'd already paid for the program, I'd be trying to learn all its aspects while feeling guilty for having spent the money on something I wasn't able to put to use immediately, and while feeling anxiously compelled to master the program faster than current reality permits. As a result, I might end up writing it off as a bad decision on my part, shelving it (with a tinge of lasting resentment), and shifting my time investment to a search for an easier solution. That's bad all around.

As it is, if I find the program as invaluable as I think it will prove, I may purchase the most extended version of the program, possibly bundled with DevonAgent and maybe also a fast scanner model that is well integrated to facilitate a (near-) paperless office, which is something I need to work toward, since fiber has taken over every spare inch (and then some). I wouldn't ever consider this much investment without a thorough trial.

Thanks to the extended and functionally unlimited trial, I'll be completely comfortable with my final decision (whatever it is) and I'll turn into a vocal advocate of (i.e., part of the marketing effort for) the software.

Generous and flexible software trial periods: very, very smart policies for everyone involved.

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Post written with a trial version of MarsEdit. I have other offline blog composition software that hasn't quite worked for me, and I had to buy it to find that out. MarsEdit is being very promising so far.

knit, Swirl—my version

Sandra McIver has recently published a wonderful (and beautiful) book of knitting patterns focusing on a concept she calls the Swirl. There have been a couple of other sweater designs drifting around that put similar ideas onto the needles, but compare the constructions and implementations and you will discover that Sandra's gone for the gold, wrapped it up, and taken it home with knit, Swirl.

As I'm wrapped up in the Swirl that I made from one of Sandra's designs. It's not quite finished in these photos, but close enough. I wore it (happily) in this state before I put the final touches on. (That's Ceilidh on the right side of the photo.)

The garment is comfortable enough that it feels like something I could wear anywhere, but it has a good deal more elegance than my usual wardrobe—a quality that's obvious from the back.

The pattern of Sandra's that I worked is called Strata Sphere. The original was made in Noro Silk Garden, and as the book says, "While the color work in Strata Sphere appears intricate at first glance, one yarn does it all." Swirls are, indeed, a perfect place to use variegated yarns.

My version, on the other hand, incorporates several different yarns. They were all Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride, which fits a similar gauge. I began with colors in my stash, including the hand-dyed version with the bright green that's around the edges. I bought that skein as a one-off sample at the Brown Sheep factory, and it became the "key" for my color combining, the color range I wanted to highlight. I also used Deep Pine, Pine (discontinued, but I had some), a frosted navy that I can't find on the color chart (came from my stash), Forest Shadows (a shaded green), and Ocean Waves, the shaded blue that became the color that held it all together. I used a few other colors that I don't remember, in smaller amounts.

It is a lot easier to just use one yarn! Nonetheless, I got a huge kick out of working out my sequences and deciding which colors to put where so that there's both unity and variety. I designed my color placement as I went, and would happily do so again.

Sandra gave me one tip before I started. Swirls are constructed in welts. She said not to change colors at the changing points between the welts. I thought with the many yarns I was using and the variegations in most of them I could get away with changing at welt shifts (since the purl bumps showing up on the reverse side would just pixelate the transition points, which were multicolored anyway). However, Sandra was right, and after knitting the first several welts I ripped back to round 5 and began again, always shifting colors at least one row away from the welt transitions. (Sandra has thought through every detail of these garments. If she says to work the first three rows flat before joining to work in the round, she has a reason.)

As is my long-ingrained habit, I changed yarns at the beginnings and ends of rows, not in their middles. On another multi-yarn Swirl, I might play with staggering the change points at many different locations within the rounds or rows. The change points weren't an issue in the body of the garment, but when I got to the sleeves and bodice, worked back and forth, I was changing so often that the joins create a little extra bulk at the edges of the fabric. (The yarn I was using was singles. Feathering the ends to overlap them was more tedium than I was willing to put up with.) A year from now, I won't even notice this, but it's enough at this moment to make me consider a refinement in my technique.

Then again, my next Swirl may be solid-colored, just because!

Let's talk a little about the concept and structure. Sandra explains "What is a Swirl?" on her website, where you can also see the wide range of garments presented in the book, worked in different fibers and weights of yarn.

There are two basic shapes: circle and oval. There are two positions for the bodice and sleeves: centered and off-center. Put these together and you have four silhouettes: circle/centered, oval/centered, circle/off-center, and oval/off-center. They have different amounts of shawl collar and body length. Some have narrower sleeves than others, to better fit different body types. In fact, however, almost everyone can put on a Swirl and find that it works. Selecting the ideal silhouette is a matter of refinement.

I'm going to let two other folks' descriptions of the concept complete this discussion, rather than repeat what they've already done extremely well.

I'll just point out that Strata Sphere, the pattern I followed exactly except for my yarn substitutions, is an oval with an off-center position for bodice and sleeves. Here's the lovely blob that I made, complete except for blocking and sewing the one seam (and working in a few of my ends).

While friends were out of town, I borrowed their living-room floor to block the fabric. My house is full of boxes of fiber. This is the main portion of the fabric with blocking wires in place.

And then I spread out the sleeves and bodice and patted them into position to dry. Yes, part of that lefthand sleeve is under the couch.

That last picture shows the rhythm of my color placement. I had only the one skein of the multicolored yarn with the bright green, so I spaced it out with other colors. I saved pieces of some colors to use in the sleeves, to bring things back together. I was running out of Pine and could only find Dark Pine, so I saved back a bit of the original color to work in among rows of its darker relative, which appears only in the sleeves. I used the Ocean Waves as a dominant color. It looks like the entire center was knitted in Ocean Waves, but there are other colors of similar value worked in there just to keep the interplay between all the colors going. 

There are a number of ways to wear the finished garment. It can be loose, as in the photos above, or higher on the neck and shoulders, as at right, fastened with a shawl pin.

As another alternative, it can be worn upside down, also held in place with a shawl pin, although I don't have a photo of that version. Worn that way, it ends up looking like a just-past-waist-length jacket with a matching cape (or extra-huge shawl collar). There are two luxurious layers of wool around the whole torso. It would be very snuggly for winter. What I think of as the "regular" version is great in our climate for spring, fall, winter, and air-conditioned summer.

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Last year, while I was working hard on some of the last stages of the book project, I searched for an engaging and calming but not boring project. The design I decided to make ended up as a useful sweater, and it was not boring, but it was also nothing like calming.

THIS was the project that I needed.

It is very simple in construction. It requires that the knitter know how to knit, purl, decrease (no need for mirrored decreases), cast on, cast off, and keep track of the number of rounds in each welt (not a difficult task). And when it's done, there is that one seam. Perfect seaming is not required.

Yet it is NOT boring, even if you don't play the color games that I did. It's a superb project to have in the works for when you Just Want to Knit. It does require a lot of yarn (consider stash-busting), and it is not great for travel knitting because of its bulk. It is a good travel garment once it's done. I can even wear my backpack over it. The hardest part is casting on the first row and getting the stitch count right. There's a lot of knitting involved, so it lasts a while (although I am not a particularly fast knitter and I completed the body in a week of evenings). It would be a great project for buddying-up and doing a knit-along with friends.

I'll be making another one, changing the silhouette, yarn, and colors. It was fun, and it was satisfying, and it's a versatile addition to my wardrobe. WIN, WIN, WIN.

The National Needlework Association (TNNA) trade show

I spent last weekend at The National Needlework Association's trade show in Columbus, Ohio. It's called TNNA for short, and there are actually four shows throughout the country during the year. Columbus is, as far as I know, the biggest of them. It's definitely the one located near Jeni's Ice Cream, which is a bonus that I've heard about for years and finally experienced for myself.

This was the first time I'd attended a TNNA show. As a trade show, it is not open to the public. Attendees have to be in the needlework business, as producers of goods (exhibitors, who purchase booth space at the show to publicize their wares), owners of shops (who look at the items in the booths and decide what to stock for the coming seasons), or teachers and designers (who network among the producers, shop owners, and themselves). There are a lot of educational programs on business matters and techniques.

"Needlework" includes everything from spinning to needlepoint, by way of weaving, knitting, crochet, needle-felting, tatting, and any other fibery technique you might think of. Booths overflowed with yarns, needles and accessories, bags, painted canvases, and books. In addition to the fact that the show is limited to people in the trade (all of whom have to have special badges to attend), nothing can be sold directly from a booth. Orders are written for future delivery. Lots of them. That's the purpose of the show. If your local yarn shop is going to carry a new product this fall (say, Juniper Moon Farm's new line of yarns or Nantucket Bagg's versatile project and tool containers), there's a pretty good chance that the owner or buyer ordered the stock this past weekend in Columbus.

I've been a member of TNNA off and on for years. I've wanted to attend the show before, but time and finances have always been barriers. I finally got there for two reasons. Cat Bordhi's group of Visionary authors was having a booth for the first time, which I wanted to support, and with the release of The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook this was a great opportunity to meet shop owners and let them know about the book.

In preparation for the show, a number of the Visionary authors knitted garments (Swirls) from Sandra McIver's new book, knit, Swirl. I had made mine as evening relaxation during one of my working weeks in the mountains. I have a whole post on the process almost finished. In addition to the Swirls we were wearing, Sandra brought a lot of prototypes and samples to the show, and we had a great time helping folks try them on. The booth was busy that way, and while people were looking at the Swirls they also browsed, and placed orders for, the other Visionary books that were featured.

Here's the Visionary Authors' booth:

I took this wide view because the discussions spilled out into the aisle. While the booth is in the background, that group of folks on the right is also talking about Visionary books.

Here's Sandra, wearing a gold Swirl, giving a Swirl tutorial to two visitors. A lot of this went on. The Swirl is a great project for all levels of knitters, and will make a terrific knit-along subject for shops.

The most fun was watching people try on the Swirls from the book. They are easy to wear and extremely flattering to diverse body types.

Behind Sandra is the main Unicorn Books booth complex, specifically the book-signing area. Unicorn, a major industry distributor (run by folks I've known for decades), sponsored the Visionary Authors' booth, which was great for everyone. That meant that we simply educated people about the books and then they placed their orders with Unicorn. It was a great collaboration.

Signings. . . . As at BookExpo (the trade show that serves similar purposes for the book industry), there were book signings. The ones that took place in the Unicorn area are very well established and run like clockwork. There are a certain number of books available. An hour before each signing, tickets become available. Shop owners who want a signed book line up to get a ticket. When the tickets are gone, all the books are committed. Ticket-holders return at the appropriate time and stand in line to meet the author and get the signed book.

JC Briar signed her new Charts Made Simple, about which I also have a post-in-process. Simply put, it's the book on charts for knitting that has been needed for a long time.

(JC is wearing her Swirl, a beautiful and classic combination of grays. Margaret Fisher was assisting, although she was outside the frame of this photo.)

Sandra signed knit, Swirl. Her husband, Bill, helped out. It is hugely useful at a large signing to have someone opening and handing the books to the author. There is also, out of sight, someone from Unicorn helping organize the line of people with tickets.

 

And I signed The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook.

I'm wearing my Swirl, in blues and greens, that there will be much better views of in another post. Alee Marsh from Storey Publishing helped me out enormously.

Carol Ekarius and I will both be signing the book this Saturday, June 18, 2011, at Shuttles, Spindles and Skeins in Boulder, Colorado. Because of logistics, we aren't doing many signings, so this is worth remarking on.

For me, TNNA was about the people, and I had a lot of great conversations. I wish I'd been able to attend in previous years, and I'm very happy I was able to be there this time. 

There was so much to do at the event that I only got to Jeni's Ice Creams twice. Yes, it's as good as people say it is. Finding lunch and dinner in the convention area was easy. (Check out Knead if you're in the area! It's on North High Street, directly across the street from the Greater Columbus Convention Center.) Finding breakfast was very challenging, and I'm a breakfast person. There wasn't even a grocery or convenience store within walking distance. There was great coffee and chai, but for some of us that doesn't constitute breakfast. On Saturday morning, I had Jeni's strawberry buttermilk ice cream for breakfast, after I gave up my hunt for orange juice and for milk to put on the cereal I'd even brought with me in my suitcase (this was the first time I've failed to find o.j. and milk readily available when traveling). I figured the ice cream at least contained some protein. It was delicious.

Then, shortly before the end of the three-day show, I took a break and walked over to North Market for a second flavor that I'd had my eye on: rhubarb lime cardamom. It was divine.

I'll have to go back another time to try the extra-dark chocolate.

Falkland Islands wool

I'm way behind on blog posts. I have several in the works. I just got back from The National Needlework Association trade show in Ohio (great conversations surrounded by super yarn, terrific tools, and so on). I have pictures. They're coming.

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Meanwhile, a couple of groups on Ravelry, the site for yarnaholics, have been wondering about Falklands wool. There's information in The Fleece and FIber Sourcebook, although not the full treatment because it's not a breed. (Not because it's not fascinating.) I responded, but might as well put the information here, where I can find it again, too. No pictures. No time. Plus this topic is a hard one to photograph on the spur of the moment. I have some Falklands top, but I don't have enough variety to illustrate the points I'll make.

Falklands wool is grown in the Falkland Islands. That's it. The name is a geographic indicator, not a breed designation—the indicator does tell you something about the wool, although what it tells you is a story with several parts.

The Falklands are located off the coast of South America. They are a U.K. overseas territory, and sheep raising has been by far the most significant economic activity, although fishing is being added to the mix. The shepherds are really serious about their wool, having had more markets for fiber than for meat, and they are creative in developing and maintaining its quality. They generally work with crosses to improve the productivity of their animals. Each shepherd's view and results are individual, although they definitely work together so the entire clip is of high quality. Because of the environment (challenging), they raise sturdy sheep and there are few pests to contend with, so pest-preventive measures that are necessary in many other parts of the world aren't required.

Defining what Falklands wool is, then, is a moving target. Thus the range of micron counts and qualities. It should be, regardless of those particulars, a very white, somewhat open, easy-spinning wool. SOME will be appropriate for use next to the skin. SOME will be better (and more durable) for making outerwear. If you find a source that you like, get more. Don't assume that Falklands wool you get elsewhere will be the same. Each mill run will be consistent, but from one to the next may not, especially if you put some years between your acquisitions.

Historically, according to Michael Ryder (not this one), the foundations of the Falklands flocks were built on Corriedales and Romneys. The Falkland Islanders have also brought in Polwarths (sometimes referred to in that part of the world as Ideals), and there are now experiments with infusing bloodlines from a couple of strains of Merino.

As you might gather from that information, the overall progression is toward finer wool. That's true for wool as a part of the global commodity market, not only in the Falklands. In the industrial sense (and for the bottom lines of medium to large producers), finer is definitely a better income-generating prospect.

For handmade textiles, that's not the case. Qualities of fiber other than diameter have great value to us. For example, we may gravitate toward luster, a variety of crimp patterns, different textures, and natural colors. (There are natural-colored sheep in the Falklands, but their wool is not incorporated into the commercially processed top that is generally available.)

When you come across the designation "Falklands wool," you can know it is a high-quality fiber that is almost certainly white.

I'm going to fail at not including a photo. I have fiber. I have a handspindle. Here's some Falkland Islands top:

This particular top remembers its Corriedale ancestors. Staple length is about 6.5 inches (16.5 cm). It has nice body, a bit of luster, and pleasant but not obsessive crimp. You could spin it a lot thicker than I did, and more loosely, too, and end up with a lovely yarn. This was just what I felt like spinning in the moment, plied back on itself, straight off the spindle.

(The ruler isn't bent. That's a distortion that happens with the camera.)

Falklands wool. Worth exploring, for sure.

A week away

Following the Colorado Art Ranch artposium over Memorial Day weekend, I was offered the blessing of a place to remain longer in Salida and get some (relatively) uninterrupted work done.

I've done this before, while working on the book portion of The Project. (The Project continues, by the way; it's just finding its next expression.) Since the book has just been released, my work needs to flow into new vessels, and my "concentrated time" lacks the strict (nearly rigid) focus of previous retreats. This is more challenging, and I feel less productive. So at the end of the week, I took stock.

I'm going to interleave a few more photos from the workshop I took with Dean Dablow, along with some more normal images later in the post. I had a great time in that workshop.

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Week's planned tasks and accomplishments, completed:

• Article for PieceWork on four rare sheep breeds that are still around because of the actions of one or two people, 2500-3000 words. Due 7/15, finished and submitted at 3331 words, plus supplementary info. I will trim later. The concept is complicated and will include four accompanying projects that other people will design and make, and my contributions include source recommendations for yarns, leads for photos, and ideas for appropriate projects (an extra 977 words). That's a lot of moving parts and the editorial folks need the lead time to get them all synchronized, so I scheduled the basic writing early. The combination of pieces is slated for the November/December issue. Pays on publication.
• Short back-page essay for Spin-Off about writing the book, focused on supplies needed to get through all the associated tasks, 500-700 words. Due 8/1, finished and submitted, 676 words, with photos. Got a jump on this because I have another article due the same date that requires more prep work. Pays on publication.
• Some ukulele, mostly pleasant chord practice just before bed. I had a Homespun video by Jim Beloff out of the library that I listened to and practiced with (I see there's a second in the set to consider for the future; I may buy both, because I'm not proficient with the skills on #1 yet). I should probably not think of how long I've been using Homespun resources for independent music-learning. First there were cassette tapes, then CDs, now DVDs. The medium changes. The message has been constant.
• A bit of reading in Ensouling Language: The Art of Nonfiction and the Writer's Life, by Stephen Harrod Buhner, a book I found by chance one day at the Tattered Cover—one which needs open yet protected mental space to discover. There is nothing like browsing in an independent bookshop to bring a person in contact with treasures that wouldn't have been encountered otherwise.
• A smidge of narrative writing toward a book I've been working on for about eight years now.
• Blog post on Artposium.

 

 

Planned tasks started but not completed:

• Article for Spin-Off on qualities of wool, 2000 words. Due 8/1; sketched concepts and wrote 1300 words, but that's only a brief coverage of 2 of the 10 or so topics I figured I could get into the piece, out of 30 or more that might be included, although there obviously isn't room. I will need to keep going on the writing, see what ideas seem most pertinent and will fit, and then cut a lot. Pays on publication.
• Information sheet for Explore 4 workshop that I'll be teaching next year. Overdue, as is my blog post about this event (March 11-16, 2012). I created the file and got the text about 90% drafted out; layout not started.

 

 

 

Planned tasks not even started:

• Author/client introductory questionnaire for editorial business. Way overdue. It's close to done, but I didn't touch it. (I did get another idea for what it needs to take it to the next level. I keep getting "take it to the next level" ideas on everything. It's both blessing and curse.)
• Article for Spin-Off on Lincoln Longwool sheep, including a project (due 11/1), 3600 words. I didn't even start research—this will involve a lot of work, including spinning yarn and making something. At least I have bought the fiber. Pays on publication (income reduced by cost of fleece).

Unplanned tasks:

• Connected with The Book Haven about possible signing in November 2011.
• Talked with Organization 1 about teaching there in July 2012 (likely not a fit, but we're still discussing).
• Negotiated with Organization 2 about teaching there, with a potential add-on at a neat-sounding shop nearby, in July 2012. My final schedule may include Organization 1 or Organization 2, not both, because my workshops take a huge amount of prep work (finding, cleaning, and organizing fibers) and I can only do a few a year. Maybe neither of these will actually happen, if the details can't be worked out, but #2 is sounding promising. Pays/reimburses after completion of event.
• Came across an idea for another book that I might want to write, and made initial publisher contact to assess potential interest. (I might publish it myself, if they aren't interested and I don't want to let go of it. Too early to tell.) If someone else wants to publish it, there's an advance (likely small, but everything helps).
• Trip to Buena Vista, Colorado, to visit Serendipity, which has wonderful yarns and all sorts of intriguing stuff to look at. This was totally self-indulgent, but I met Mikki and Joan and it was fun to show them the book. I may do a signing there when I'm in the area again in November. Mikki took my picture with owner Tami's camera, which appears to work although I look a bit stiff . . . I'm not great at posing, and the book is heavy  . . . and then she wrote a blog post, thus revealing that I went shopping in the middle of my work week {grin}. It was fun, and I definitely needed the change of contexts.
• Lots of back-and-forth about a book I'm working on publishing (Nomad Press), including receiving essential files in an obsolete format and figuring out how to convert them when even the nearly-always-reliable OpenOffice refused to open them. (Zamzar rocks!)
• Talked with another writer about her multiple book ideas and helped her focus and prioritize them—a highlight!

Interleaved with:

• Yoga and meditation, daily.
• Visited the Salida Bread Company for the first time (and the second . . . would have visited more, except it took time to eat the bread I bought).
• Lovely dinner visit with Susan, Richard, Kerry, David, and Little (Little is a delightful cattle dog; I got to pat Little on both visits to the Salida Bread Company, too).
• A few bike rides and walks. Nowhere near as many as I would have liked, but getting stuff done requires staying inside and doing it.
• A bit of trash picking along the stream adjacent to where I was staying—I mostly removed plastic bags from the water, plus some old newspapers, a bunch of cigarette butts, and a soda can.
• Keeping up with a smattering of online networks, including stopping in at Ravelry once and answering messages.
• A little knitting of samples to use in teaching yarn/fiber workshops.
• Pleasantly simple meals, a number of them consisting of salads . . . with avocado, which my daughter prefers not to eat.
• Tea and a visit on the last morning there with Sherrie and David, since we'd barely seen each other because everyone was working so hard and it's silly to have traveled that far and be that close for more than a week and not get in a visit.

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Biking interlude

Here are a few photos from my bike ride at the end of the afternoon on the day before I left. It had been hot, and several of the days the air was smoky from the big fires south and west of us, in Colorado, New Mexico, and even as far as Arizona. This day ended quite clear.

This is one of the county roads, with a bike trail next to it. Even when the county roads in this county are paved, they mostly don't have shoulders. (Some are dirt two-tracks.) That's the smooth, straight bike path leading to the west. On this particular day, there wasn't much smoke from the wildfires to the south. Or there was, but the wind blew it on past.

Deer hang out all over. This one was in a subdivision, between the houses and a church. There were three more hunkered down in the shade on the church lawn.

They're pretty acclimated to humans, and eat people's gardens, both flower and food types. If you're driving on the highways or county roads in the area, stay alert. They may cross the road in front of you at any time, often in groups of three or four. That wasn't a concern when I was on my bike.

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Hey! A project really completed!

On the day I got home, the new issue of Spin-Off (Summer 2011) had just arrived.

It contains the article I wrote way back in January on Soay sheep (there was more to say than we could fit in The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, even though we included a lot there).

That sweet ewe on the far left is demonstrating the molting, or natural shedding, of her fleece.

Small samples of several types of Soay wool.

And lots of words. I like words. I also like pictures! The photos in this article came from varied sources, including my own camera, Interweave's studio shots, and Steve and Priscilla Weaver.

So nice to see a piece in print. (And since it's been published, I get paid!)

 

The spaces between things

One of the brief workshops I took at the Colorado Art Ranch artposium on Dwellings was presented by photographer Dean Dablow. He has photographed the spaces between dwellings, which are very revealing. He called his session "The Space Between Us," and offered a sampling of his photos as inspiration and then sent us out with whatever cameras we might have (some worked with iPhones) to look at the spaces between . . . anything.

I'm always interested in new ways of perceiving. We only had about 45 minutes, and couldn't go far. Fortunately, I didn't have to go far to find cool stuff. My "between" also occasionally morphed into "beneath." At the end, those of us who chose to do so could bring our image-capturing devices back inside where Dean talked with us about the photos we'd taken and what we'd discovered.

Here are some of the shots I took—I greatly enjoyed the search for the in-between.

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Not exactly "between," but while I was framing the image above, I couldn't resist this one.

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and . . .

I don't think I traveled more than 40 feet from the workshop space to find all of those, and more.

Colorado Art Ranch artposium: Dwellings

You don't have to live in Colorado to go to a Colorado Art Ranch artposium. I do happen to live in the state, but it's not a requirement. You just need to like good company and fascinating conversations, and to entertain the idea that looking at something from all sides will reveal more than a single view from a fixed position can show.

The Colorado Art Ranch has no fixed location. It was "founded on the belief that the arts are an agent for change." It organizes and hosts events in parts of the state that are outside the metropolitan areas. In Colorado, that gives the catalyst-organizers a lot of options. They decide on a topic, find people from a variety of backgrounds and perspectives to talk about aspects of it, and then we all get together and stretch our brains in delightful ways. I have left every artposium with a changed perspective and bigger ideas. And I've met a lot of terrific people.

The artposium last week took place in Salida, a mountain town southwest of Denver, and the topic was Dwellings. That last link leads to artist Sherrie York's more comprehensive post about the artposium. This next link will go to the Colorado Art Ranch information on Dwellings information now, but soon it will instead feature the next event, which is . . . 

Hardrock Revision 

The next gathering has the intention of using both art and science to figure out what to do with an inactive silver mine and its associated town site. That's a significant problem, involving historic buildings, economic difficulties, and the complications of pollution.

Hardrock Revision has four main objectives:

1. Stimulate open and productive discussion about possible uses for an inactive mine in Hinsdale County.
2. Foster dialogue between the mining and the environmental communities.
3. Develop guiding principles for choosing solutions to the inactive mine site that are consistent with the community’s values and goals.
4. Test a model for collaboration among artists and scientists to address an ecological and social issue.

Using "the arts as a tool for creative problem solving," the project will address "the community’s needs through stakeholder participation, an art-science collaboration for envisioning uses for the mine site, and a public forum of the team’s collaborative recommendations."

I can't attend that one, but I look forward to hearing what happens!

Dwellings

Meanwhile, I did get to be part of the Dwellings artposium last weekend. In a way characteristic of Colorado Art Ranch's definitions, "dwellings" included bodies, solutions to homelessness and refugee situations, affordable housing with dignity, being at home in words, an anthropologist's view of the importance of habitations in culture and environment, photographs of the spaces between houses, and more. This particular event was given continuity by the poetic and musical contributions of the River City Nomads, a group of five poets (I can't find a link for one of the poets) and a musician who interpreted the shifting themes in their six individual voices, which gathered to create a sort of dwelling for the event itself.

When I reviewed the offerings, I noticed that the planners had missed a dwellings concept that I consider important, so I prepared my brief presentation to repair the omission.

Here are my slides:

Time was short and I needed to focus on one aspect of the situation, so I chose:

We've got three generations of my family represented here, and the five images on the left represent clothing we've made for ourselves or for each other. The blue sweater in close-up is my daughter's first complete knitting project, for which she chose the yarn, planned the design, and worked every stitch. She's wearing it in the adjacent photo. At upper right, my sister and I are in another type of portable dwelling: protective clothing for biking.

I discussed the idea that clothing doesn't need to be ephemeral, and can be passed around among the generations.

Then I shifted to three examples of specific items made to serve as spiritual, as much as physical, portable dwellings.

First, I showed a piece made with handspun yarn from Gulf Coast Native sheep—a rare breed that offers an interesting contrast to the synthetics that many people are choosing instead of natural fibers. I'd rather have sheep on the Gulf Coast than an oil spill. The fiber came from Spirit Trail Fiberworks, dyed by Jennifer Heverly. I knitted the scarf, "for a friend who needs some serious frivolity," using the Helix pattern by another friend, Stephenie Gaustad. Stephenie was inspired by nudibranchs, a fact the intended recipient would appreciate.

Next I looked at locally sourced yarn. For Jared Flood, who imagined this yarn and then did the work to make it exist in the world, "local" means U.S.-sourced. For us in Colorado it has an even closer relationship, the fiber having been grown in Wyoming, our neighbor to the north. Jared calls the yarn Shelter, which certainly fit the weekend's theme, although I would have used this yarn no matter what name it carried. It's great. I knitted a hat from Jared's Fortnight pattern, and those are his photos on the model (used with his permission). This was made for a friend "who needs bounce and brightness."

(Note for the fiber folk: although I put locks of Targhee and Columbia wool in the photo and talked a bit about different qualities of wool, the fiber from which the yarn is constructed is grown by crossbred sheep, Targhee X Columbia. The blend is produced in the animal, not the mill.)

Finally, I turned to the use of yarns that support communities on other continents, using Frog Tree's Merino yarn to make another of Jared's Fortnight hats. (It's a great pattern and I have it memorized now.) This hat is for a friend "who needs softness and serenity." This friend and the person for whom I made the previous hat are partners; there's a bit of yarn from the first hat incorporated into the brim of the second one.

There's a lock of Merino wool in this slide, too, and I talked about how many Merinos there are in the world (it's not a rare breed) and how crucial it is in the current economy of wools. Yet I also talked about how being aware of where one's Merino comes from—for example, from Frog Tree's community-supporting program—makes a difference.

 

And with those combinations of physical and emotional shelter, manifested in the form of a few small knitted items, I said my piece.

___

One of BK Loren's workshops on Saturday was especially productive for me. I've spent the subsequent week writing several types of things here, all with deadlines, and the approach she suggested fed into my process and freshened it for me.

One more note. In preparation for the weekend, I had read BK's The Way of the River: Adventures and Meditations of a Woman Martial Artist. Excellent. And that comment comes from someone who (as you'll know if you've been here before) is far more interested in fiber arts than in martial arts. Recommended (except for the font the publisher used on the cover; not the author's fault, and once you open the book you don't notice any more). Check it out.

As fragmented as this view of the weekend has been, I do have a few more souvenirs to share in another post.