The Independent Stitch

Sunday at Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival

Sunday at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival is always quieter than Saturday. It's still plenty busy and crowded. A lot of people who did their reconnaissance on Saturday are making final evaluations for (and completing) major purchases. I'd guess that more spinning wheels depart the site on Sunday than on Saturday, although I saw a lot of demos and test runs going on yesterday.

But on Sunday it's easier to choose where to go, rather than being pushed by the crowds or—my choice—retreating to the location of least population density.

Today I went to a few more short classes on specific aspects of wool, but the highlight of the day was the annual Parade of Breeds. As one of the handouts for one of the classes pointed out, "there are more breeds, types, and varieties of sheep than of any other domesticated livestock." This year's parade included significantly more breeds than the last time I was here in 2000—I'd guess somewhere between thirty and forty.

It's really hard to take photos at the parade. Lots of people want to see the animals, and there are lots of critters and people to coordinate to pull off this event. I got a few photos, mostly of the breeds in the earlier part of the alphabet. I caught the best photos while several of the sheep were waiting their turn in the ring. My camera has a delay between when I click the button and when the photo is snapped, so lots of other images that should have been sheep-heading-into-ring ended up as sheep-butt-moving-away-from-me.

Here, however, are a few of the photos that worked (more or less). If I've misidentified any breed and someone else knows what it is instead, please drop me a line. When the sheep have been shorn—which is true of almost all the animals at a show in early May—I, as a spinner, have lost access to one of my primary clues to identity: the fleece. (Yes, of course they announced the breeds as they went into the ring, but I was hunkered down in a corner, poking my camera in between people, mostly avoiding getting stepped on by sheep, and did not quite manage to write down legible reminder notes as I grabbed shots.)

This is a Black Welsh Mountain, ready to be first into the ring. It took me a number of years before I realized that the sheep paraded in alphabetical order.

I caught this Border Cheviot while it was waiting its turn:

Here's a California Red:

And a Clun Forest:

And the Columbias are always so massive . . . they look like ponies, especially next to the Black Welsh Mountains, the Icelandics, the Shetlands, the smaller Jacobs. . . . This guy'll gain another several inches in height when his wool grows in:

And a Cotswold, one of my favorite faces, with the start of a lovely fleece to go with it:

I wish I hadn't missed the white Icelandic ewe and her two spring-loaded tiny black lambs. Well, I got a photo, but it wasn't very good. They were so wonderful I'll put it here anyway. The mom still has some fleece on her.

And I caught the Merino rep within the ring:

Again, the wool's just starting to grow in for this year.

The thing about these sheep is that as varied as their appearance and personalities are, their fleeces are equally diverse. That continues to fascinate me. That and the fact that a number of these breeds embody a cultural treasure that is, in many ways, at risk of being lost. So I especially love seeing individuals from the rare breeds come into the ring.

Later in the day, I went over to the breed showcase barn and visited the Hog Island sheep that came to the festival from George Washington's Mount Vernon Estate and Garden. They'd been in the parade, but about at the point that I lost my photo vantage point entirely.

Even among the rare breeds, Hog Island sheep are especially uncommon; there may be two hundred of them. Here are two, one of whom has been newly shorn and one of whom still has her coat:

The dark one enjoyed having her head scratched, right between the horns, please.

At the end of the day, she and her buddy headed home in a truck with this license plate:

Anybody who feels inclined toward a good cause: if you can't conserve some of these animals by keeping them yourself, find a place like Mount Vernon that's doing the crucial work of being sure that these living resources stick around and earmark a contribution for the livestock program.

Maryland Sheep and Wool, Saturday

Yesterday was the first day of the full Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival.

Here's what the parking lot looked like at 8:15 in the morning, about forty-five minutes before the festival officially began:

As I thought, the rabbit building's overflow area was put to good use for the Ravelry gathering:

It was packed inside. I didn't even get in there.

Here's the aisle where I took the photo of the truck parked in the main building on Friday:

And here's the area outside that building:

Those are food lines, early in the day, at a twenty- to thirty-minute wait length. Later they got longer. In the way background is the area with the sheepdog demos.

At mid-afternoon, there's a sheep-and-wool tradition:

It's made with real lemons, right there. There's also a booth that has real, old-fashioned carbonated beverages, like birch beer and cream sodas. (You can also get the standard stuff.)

Toward the end of the day, I was able to catch up with one of Bryan Bowers' performances. He's one of my favorite musicians, and was cultivating a few new fans at the festival:

I'd hoped to be able to ask him if he'd consider playing "The View from Home," which is one of my all-time favorite songs, but it was a short concert and I was feeling lazy enough just to listen to whatever he felt like playing.

There's really good music at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. Maggie Sansone is a regular. She often plays at the end of the main building, so while I'd spin in the Interweave Press booth she'd be providing music to the whole place. It was lovely. Over the years I've brought home a number of CDs, as well as fiber and tools.

And here's the end of the day:

I've got two ounces of fleece (two different kinds) and three skeins of a yarn that I'd been looking for since last October. The two ounces doesn't seem like much, but it's special stuff that you can't get just anywhere and it's got immediate uses in my life.

I didn't get to the big Ravelry party at the Sheraton in Columbia, although I'd intended to. I went to supper with a small group of friends. By the time we actually ate and then I drove one of them back to the farm where she's staying, the Ravelry party was almost over (it was nearly 11), and I went back to the hotel to gather my forces for the next day.

My way of navigating the festival is to avoid crowds, so there's a lot I didn't see yesterday. Also, I was showing a friend around, which affected where I went and what I saw.

Sunday is traditionally quieter. I've got several things in mind to accomplish today, and I'll have time for some browsing.

Warming up for Maryland

Travel: a shift in environments

Yesterday as we prepared to leave Colorado for Maryland, we drove toward the airport in quite a May Day snowstorm. This is what it looked like through the window of the van that took us from off-airport parking to the terminal:

Our flight was delayed by an on-ground detour to the de-icing area.

The rest of the journey went well, and by supper time we were on the ground in Baltimore.

This morning's class on some technicalities of wool

This morning, after (free, hot) breakfast in the hotel lounge area, I headed over to the fairgrounds for a morning class called Wool Science 201, taught by Robert Padula, who's a Wool Quality Improvement Consultant. He works with the American Sheep Industry Association, which is the commercially oriented advocate of sheep-raising in the United States. (He personally raises Targhees, with an emphasis on . . . wool quality.)

The class was taught primarily from the perspective of the wool industry's, rather than handspinners', needs, a difference that was acknowledged and interesting to observe. Handspinners have a lot to learn from industry, although the information we need is usually buried in masses of data. One of the things I like to do is find the spinner-useful bits and pull them out and play with them, or to act as a kind of translator between the sides. This morning was extremely valuable from that perspective. It's going to take some time to digest all that I got introduced to or, in several cases, finally found answers to . . . data that resolved several questions I've been researching with only moderate success got laid out right in front of me.

My trip's already been 100 percent wortwhile, and I haven't been here twenty-four hours yet.

(While looking for links for Bob Padula, I found a nifty article in the New York Times about Morehouse Farm, where they understand both sides of the equation—industry's and spinners'—and have found their own unique way to balance in between.)

The festival prepares

Backing up a bit to before the class: I arrived a little early at the fairgrounds and took photos of the "before-festival" atmosphere.

This morning, there was lots of parking available:

I parked about fifty feet past the truck and the bus, maybe five cars from the main gate. I briefly pondered what it would be like if I could reserve my parking space for tomorrow as well (maybe leave the car here and hitchhike back to the hotel, and get here the same way in the morning?). Exhibitors' parking is great. But the exhibitors need it a lot more than the visitors do, no matter what we visitors may think from time to time.

Here's the rabbit building, just inside the main gate, where the two fairgrounds-based Ravelry gatherings will take place (11:30 to 1 on Saturday, 1 to 2:30 on Sunday) . . . apparently a thousand people are in the Ravelry MD S&W group. I'm sure that a bunch of folks who participate in Ravelry will be at the festival but have not joined that group, and there are also the Ravelry-interested. The space could end up pretty crowded, but it looks like it's semi-expandable and won't be overly claustrophobic.

Here's the lawn outside building V (now Main), where the Save the Sheep project idea began in 1998:

Here's what the inside of building V (Main) looked like this morning at about 8:45:

The Interweave space that I spent so much time in between 1993 and 1999 is halfway down the lefthand outside wall. Amy Clarke Moore, who's now the editor of Spin-Off, will be spending her weekend there again this year. It's really a nice home base.

Those who have been at the festival know that this space will be crammed by the same time tomorrow . . . with exhibitors . . . and about 15 minutes later it will also be crammed with visitors.

Right now, it's open enough to fit big trucks in the aisles. As I was walking around today, I was reminded of how well the companies that rent cars, trucks, and trailers must like the festival, if they know enough about to realize why their business is looking so good this week:

That's looking down just one of the two aisles of the main building.

And something new since the last time I was here:

There was another ATM unit by the main gate, with two terminals, in a mobile trailer. There may be more scattered around. I'll bet they see even more use than the porta-potties.

Some of the vendors stay in local motels, but others vendors and shepherds camp out in the vendor-specific parking area. As I walked by this morning, a parent was getting three kids breakfast. So this, like the other parking areas within the gated area adjacent to the buildings, is also a type of home base for the exhibitors:

There were two people putting up a banner that said "Welcome to the 35th anniversary Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival":

I love that there are both black and white sheep on the banner. The presence of the black sheep reflects the handspinners' presence and influence in the mix, although this festival has an equally strong industry focus. Black sheep aren't of much use to industrial producers of wool. Black fibers (or fibers of any color other than white), prized by handspinners, are classified as contaminants when wool is bulk-processed. If industry wants black or another color, it can dye white wool to get it; colored fibers, on the other hand, mar whites and pastels and brights, also dyed.

Here's another pre-festival sight—no lines for the bathrooms:

And here's a ram getting its pre-show grooming. The judging he'll face will be on factors other than the fleece, which is trimmed to make the animal as a whole look great, by industry standards, and he does indeed look so fine:

Lots of the exhibitors know each other, both from connections outside the festival and from coming here year after year. I miss the pre-opening (and post-festival) camaraderie as much as anything.

And I miss the sheep, so I went to visit a few:

And that lovely face (a colored Lincoln) represents the spinners' side of the sheep world at Maryland.

Whenever I'd get a break from the booth, I'd go recharge my batteries by taking a stroll through the barns. I saw about twenty different breeds this morning, and only a quarter to a third of the stalls were occupied.

By noon, the booth set-up had proceeded significantly, a few of the food vendors had opened up to serve the exhibitors and workshop attendees, and the working folk had begun to walk around the grounds a bit:

It's all getting ready. . . .

Going "home" to Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival

Warning: Long post, with a walk through past calendars, and a bit of spinning/knitting content toward the end.

Going back to Maryland

It's hard to believe that a week from today I'm scheduled to be at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival for the first time since 2000. On Thursday morning, I'll pick up Sharon, another former Interweave Press employee with whom I've almost always attended the festival, and we'll head for the airport.

In past years, Sharon and I have gone to Maryland because Interweave sent us. We had a great time, in addition to working really hard. This year, neither of us is an Official Presence any longer (me since 2000, Sharon since 2007). We're just going to Maryland because . . . we had a great time, and we miss the folks we regularly saw there. Not everyone we'd like to see is attending, but enough people we know will be there to make it worth the travel and the time. Because most of the people we know work the festival, as we did, we'll probably mostly just get to say hello, but still. And we never know who we'll meet that we don't know yet and will be keeping up with for years to come. Plus we both could use a short break from our respective "normal" lives.

It says a lot that . . . given all the possibilities of where we could go and what we could do, either separately or as a tag-team like we used to be . . . we've chosen to head for a fairgrounds in West Friendship, Maryland, on the first weekend in May.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've wondered how many times I've been to the Maryland festival before (nine) and what year I first went (1992). In going through my calendars, I discovered a few things. One of them is how tightly we had to work the publication schedule out a year in advance just so we could handle the logistics of being out of town right then. Another is . . . well, I'll wait for 1998 to talk about that realization, which ties to 2008 in ways I hadn't put together.

Going to the festival for the first time

Not in the calendars but in memory: Linda Berry Walker first suggested that Spin-Off magazine should be represented at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival and urged us to get there. (This was before the World Wide Web, which wasn't created until 1989, and Linda's farm was as fine as it is now, but smaller!)

This goes back a way. I think I first met Linda at a weekend conference at Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts. The topic was "Wool as a Second Crop." I've never owned sheep, but I'm the sort of spinner who has always been interested in them (at least in wool-growing sheep . . . not all sheep do grow wool) so whenever possible I've attended workshops about the economics of wool, wool-grading, and the like. I already knew who Linda was, in part because she had written some articles for the early issues of Spin-Off, which I'd subscribed to since it started up in 1977 when I still lived in Washington state, but I don't think we'd met face-to-face.

That workshop took place some time between 1983 and 1986. I think my daughter had been born by then and that we had probably moved into town (early 1982), but we definitely had not yet moved from Massachusetts to Colorado. That move happened in 1986, when I started at Interweave as book editor. A year later I was asked to take on the editing of Spin-Off as well, which I did, starting with the Spring 1988 issue (my tenure ended with the Spring 2000 issue).

From Spring 1988 until mid-1991, Linda wrote terrific columns on specific sheep breeds for Spin-Off: Border Cheviot, Border Leicester, Coopworth, Corriedale, Jacob, Karakul, Lincoln, Merino, Rambouillet, Romney, Scottish Blackface. Plus an article called "To Save a Sheep, Spin Its Fleece."

In part because of the complications of publication schedules and budgets, Linda had to drop loud hints about Maryland for several years before we got the go-ahead to check out the festival.

• 1992 Went to Maryland to see what all the fuss was about. Came back registered for a booth for the next year.
  Friday, 5/1: 8:10a pick up Sharon. United 468 DEN-IAD, 10:41a-4:02p.
  Monday, 5/4: United 127 IAD-DEN, 9:15a-11:01a.
  Friday, 5/8: Spin-Off to press.

So in 1993, we were there officially for the first time. I spent my weekends demonstrating spinning in the booth. We didn't sell things. We just spun and chatted up spinning, and sent people off to the other booths to buy Interweave's books and magazines. I met a bunch of folks whom I only knew from online connections, through CompuServe's fiber forum.

Because demonstrations need to attract people's attention, for the first several years I did my weekend's work with a Navajo spindle. Most people hadn't seen one in action, and I enjoy spinning with this type of tool. It's both eye-catching and efficient. Here's a YouTube demo of the technique.

As the years went on, I made a tradition of buying something fun at the festival to spin up before I got home. Because of the circumstances, it was usually prepared fiber, dyed in a color that would catch people's attention as they walked by. By the end of the weekend, after between fourteen and sixteen hours of spinning, the bones of my right hand were usually pretty sore but I'd had a fine time and produced several random skeins of yarn.

• 1993 First year with a booth. Well, half-booth. Building V, booth 18B. It was a narrower-than-standard space in front of the utility closet, which fairgrounds staff needs to get into from time to time. That was fine for us, because we could just step aside from our chatting and demonstration and let them through. Building V is now called Main.
  Friday, 4/30: Summer Spin-Off to press
  Friday, 4/30 (same day): 8:15a pick up Sharon. United 348 DEN-IAD, 10:36a-4:04p.
  Monday, 5/3: United 126 IAD-DEN, 9:05a-10:50a.
  Tuesday, 5/11: Spin-Off blueline (final review of printer's proof before magazine goes on press).

Maryland becomes a regular event

For the first several years, we flew into Dulles. Later we sometimes went into Baltimore; everything depended on which was least expensive. We'd generally arrive on Friday, set up that evening (the other booths where people actually sell things spend all day Friday setting up), and then do the demo work all day Saturday and Sunday.

Sometimes it was hot, and a few times it rained prodigiously. Mostly the weather was great and the fresh lemonade tasted fantastic. We generally didn't have time to leave the booth to stand in line for food at regular lunch time, so we'd stock up with healthy snacks at a grocery store, stash them under the table in the booth, and nibble our way through the days.

• 1994
  Friday, 4/29: Summer Spin-Off to press.
  Friday, 5/6: United FNL-DEN-IAD.
  Monday, 5/9: United return.
  Flew to Maryland out of the local small airport, which had a connector flight to Denver for a few years; there was no extra cost on our tickets, but usually much extra turbulence on the short flights along the foothills; sometimes the connector flights were canceled.
  Tuesday, 5/10: Spin-Off blueline.
  
  
• 1995 My daughter went along to Maryland one of these years; neither of us can remember exactly which year, but it was between 1994 and 1997.
  Friday, 4/28: Summer Spin-Off to press.
  Friday, 5/5: Continental 1817 & 225 DEN to either IAD or BWI, via somewhere else, 10:10a-?p.
  Monday, 5/8: Continental 220 & 1804, 8:45a-3:09p.
  Tuesday, 5/9: Spin-Off blueline.

• 1996
  Friday, 4/26: Summer Spin-Off to press.
  Friday, 5/3: American 424 DEN to IAD or BWI, 8:49a-6:30p.
  Monday, 5/6: American 1677 & 419, IAD or BWI to DEN via DFW, 7:53a-11:53a.
  Tuesday, 5/7: Spin-Off blueline.

• 1997
  Wednesday, 4/30: Summer Spin-Off to press.
  Friday, 5/2: 7:15a pick up Sharon. United 296 DEN-IAD, 10:40a-3:47p.
  We almost never did anything but go to the festival, work, and come home (note pattern of to-press and blueline dates tucked around the festival; this wasn't easy, because every magazine's schedule affects every other magazine's schedule, and we were dodging around multiple publications to make this happen). Sometimes there was a contradance at Glen Echo Park on Sunday evening, after we got the booth packed up, and we'd stop and check it out. In 1997, however, Sharon and I stayed an extra day and took public transportation into D.C. and went to The Textile Museum to see two exhibits, one of very fine knitting and one about netted structures. They were fantastic.
  Tuesday, 5/6: United 1821 IAD-DEN, 8:55a-10:35a.
  Wednesday, 5/7: Spin-Off blueline.

A pivotal year: 1998

Trudy and Jan Van Stralen of Louet offered to stop on their way from Canada and bring my daughter to Maryland for the weekend from the school she attended for two years in New York. The scheduling didn't work out, but it would have been great fun all around!

The big deal that did happen, though: 1998 was the year that Don Bixby, the director of the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy, and I sat on the grass outside building V and had a conversation that led to the Save the Sheep Project.

Judy also came along to Maryland. (She was getting interested in spinning. The spacious room you see in the photos on that last link was made available to us for the final judging of the Save the Sheep entries because of Judy's efforts. But none of us could foresee that, of course.)

• 1998
  Wednesday, 4/29: Summer Spin-Off to press.
  Friday, 5/1: 6a pick up Judy. United 276 DEN-IAD or BWI, 8:32a-1:33p. We didn't have to get to the airport two hours ahead in those days, or I would have had to pick up Judy before 5a.
  Monday, 5/4: United 1227 IAD or BWI-DEN, noon-1:38p.
  Tuesday, 5/5: Spin-Off blueline.

Here's what a few of my DayTimer notes look like from my meeting with Don:

I'd been interested in sheep, especially rare-breed sheep, for years. I'd first become aware of the rare-breeds issue when I edited Shuttle Spindle & Dyepot for the Handweavers Guild of America and published an article on the Navajo Sheep Project.

My fascination had continued to grow, and a few years before my conversation with Don at Maryland, I'd had a jolt when I looked over the list of endangered sheep breeds and realized how many of the names on the list corresponded to classic handspinning fibers that I'd hate to do without. Lincoln is a rare breed? Yikes! Leicester Longwool, that glorious, shiny, exquisite stuff? Jacob? Shetland, with its incomparable colors and textures??? Cotswolds? Oh, my.

And I hadn't even encountered yet some of the almost magical island breeds, remarkable for their tenacity as well as their wool quality.

Over the next two years, in addition to my regular work, the Save the Sheep project came into being. I'd initially thought that I'd simply gather existing research to provide the background for the project. As it turned out, nobody'd looked at sheep from this perspective before. Oops. I spent my evenings and weekends putting together the resources we needed to form the project's foundation.

One last official trip to Maryland, and one on my own

In 1999, the budget was a little tight and there was some talk about canceling the trip to Maryland. Those of us who had been attending said we would cut expenses as far as we could, but we thought it was important to be there. We stayed at a different motel (an inexpensive one that usually is booked up a year in advance . . . we lucked out); I slept on a rollaway. My daughter graduated from high school the next month.

• 1999
  Wednesday, 4/28: Summer Spin-Off to press.
  Thursday, 4/29: United 1618 DEN-IAD or BWI, 12:45p-5:38p.
  Monday, 5/3: United 1641 IAD or BWI-DEN, 3:10p-4:52p.
  Tuesday, 5/4: Spin-Off blueline scheduled; actually arrived Wednesday, 5/5.

My last day as an Interweave employee was Wednesday, 5/31/2000, a few weeks after that year's Maryland festival. Amy Clarke (now Moore) had stepped up from assistant editor to editor and the Summer 2000 issue of Spin-Off was her first.

I spent my last weeks on staff finishing off the book that went along with the Save the Sheep project, which had come into being because of that conversation Don Bixby and I had sitting on the grass outside building V at the festival in 1998. So in 2000, I went to Maryland as "just me," not as a representative of Interweave. I shared a motel room with friends I'd met through the years at Maryland.

• 2000
  Friday, 5/5: United 250 DEN-IAD or BWI, 12:39p-7:53p.
  Monday, 5/8: United 1507 IAD or BWI-DEN, 5:15p-6:53p.
  Thursday, 5/11: daughter home from college (freshman year).
  Friday, 5/12: Handspun Treasures from Rare Wools to press.

• 2001 Maryland festival dates marked in calendar but X'd out; unable to attend.
• 2002 Maryland festival dates marked in calendar but lined through; unable to attend.
• 2003 Maryland festival dates not marked in calendar.

Maryland: reminders

On one of the Maryland weekends, I bought a cherry lap spindle from Noel Thurner at Norsk Fjord Fibers. And another year the weekend-spinning fiber I bought was a mix of blues, greens, and purples with some flash in it.

I spun all of the yarn for this vest (except the trim around the edges) while talking to people at the festival. I started the spinning after I got to the festival and I finished it before I got on the plane back to Denver. That's the spindle that I bought from Noel, which I used to make this yarn (and a lot of other yarn at other times):

. . . along with the book that wouldn't have happened without Maryland. The yarn is two-ply, sportweight (6 stitches to the inch in stockinette).

This vest reminds me: I've been talking about the cabled sweater I'm knitting, and have mentioned the way that I like the ribbings to flow into the patterns above them. Here, from the back of the vest, is an example of that idea in action:

The vest appeared in an early issue of Interweave Knits as part of a staff-knitted collection of vests, but when the pattern appeared it called for a regular 2/2 ribbing. For written-out patterns, that's the easiest solution because describing in line-by-line instructions what I actually did was a bit complicated. For charted patterns, you can easily put in (and knit) what's really there!

From 1998 to 2008

The rare breeds are still endangered, although some are in much better shape than they used to be (and some are just as vulnerable as they were).

And that's the connection to 2008. I'm still here, doing many of the same things to raise spinners' and knitters' awareness of where our materials come from (and that the best of them will disappear if we don't take at least some action), although under very different circumstances. I hadn't realized how much the Save the Sheep Project marked the close of my time with Interweave, nor the symmetry between that time and some of the major endeavors I've got underway for the next couple of years. I still want very much to do everything I can to keep the materials and the skills to use them alive and available, as part of our everyday lives as well as our human heritage. They can enhance our contemporary lives wonderfully, both in the doing and when we use the items that we make.

If we humans lose the skills of making things from scratch (like growing food, building canoes, spinning yarn for fabrics)—and we will lose the skills if the materials are not available to us—we will have lost something that is thousands of years old and of inestimable value, not just historically but spiritually. And that doesn't even get into the individual characters of the creatures and what they can teach us. . . .

A few days ago I got a lovely packet of Soay ram's wool that I'm looking forward to spinning, and—thanks to Donna Druchunas—twice last week I met with June Hall, who's been working on sheep conservation in the British Isles and Lithuania. June has written and published a delightful little book about Herdwick sheep called Henrietta Herdwick that is illustrated with charming felted images, and she keeps Soays herself (although my Soay packet came from a U.S. flock).

I'm unaccustomed to meeting other people who are interested in rare-breed sheep. It was quite astonishing to meet June, and I hope I can get to Woolfest some time!

Spring in Maryland and spring in Colorado

Usually when we have gone to the Maryland festival, we've been able to catch what is for us an early spring, with the dogwoods blooming. Here in Colorado, the crabapple blossoms began to open yesterday, and this morning we had both bright blooms and a light snowstorm:

• 2008
  Thursday, 5/1: 8:15a pick up Sharon. . . .

How I managed NOT to get myself into knitting trouble

Well, this is a minor miracle. I managed not to over-modify the Must Have Cardigan in making my adjustments. Once I dig into modifying a pattern I often almost completely revamp it: gauge, size, patterning, neckline, sleeves, closure. . . .

Because I haven't done that this time, the design looks like it will end up doing exactly what I want it to: being a good carry-around, ongoing project, just challenging enough to be interesting but not requiring too much attention. I wanted something that feels like doing musical scales and chord progressions for the pleasure of hearing the sounds, not practicing a symphony for a concert. 

My primary motivation was to put in a different primary cable because I definitely need to lengthen the body (I always have to lengthen the body) and I wanted a pattern that would intersect nicely with the decreases of the V neckline, no matter where in the repeat sequence that intersection occurred.

(The design is also a bit of a warm-up and test case for the book I'm editing, when the computers work as they should, which is Donna Druchunas' Ethnic Knitting Exploration, which looks in part at cabled Irish-inspired sweaters and at cardigan structures . . . and is due out in October 2008, which will happen if the computers continue to cooperate. And I'm in trouble if they don't, so they'd better. And that was more than enough "whiches" for one sentence back there.)

One of the most unusual aspects of my modification process this time is that I'm still at the original gauge, so I can use the pattern's numbers (except for lengths). That almost never happens.

I found a few cables that I liked by browsing around in Janet Szabo's Cables, Volume 1 and put them together in a sequence I thought I might enjoy. The patterns are repeats of 4, 6, and 8 rows, so the overall repeat is 24 rows but within that sequence the variations are simple. The primary cable, which I found in Janet's book, also appears as "Shadow Plaited Stitch" in Mary Thomas's Book of Knitting Patterns (1943), and long ago I'd marked it in that book to try some day. Having it show up here was like finally scheduling time to have tea with someone I wanted to get to know better.

For my swatch, I used some of the yarn left over from the Norsk Strikkedesign sweater (which, by the way, I wear frequently and happily). The swatch is the green in the photo below. If you look at the Norsk Strikkedesign sweater, it's obvious why there's leftover green. I've made some of Jared Flood's Koolhaas hats with some of the extra yarn from that sweater, but I didn't get around to using the two greens.

The green swatch, next to the blue starts of the real sleeves, provides a really good demo of the advantage of working cables (or other textured stitches) in light-colored yarns. They show up a lot better. The blue I'm using for the sweater itself is not so dark it completely wipes out the cables, but they're definitely more subtle than they would be in a lighter shade.

However, there's a plus in that walking-the-dark-side choice of mine for this garment. It comes in design-thought-process Note 7, below.

• Note 1. I had planned to have the first cable-crossings on the second row, which tucks them in nicely next to the ribbing but puts them past the increases that need to occur between ribbing and main pattern area (because of cable draw-in, there are more increases than for an un-cabled sweater).
• Note 2. I like my ribbings to flow into my cable patterns, knits to knits and purls to purls, as much as possible.
• Note 3. In order to have the cable-crossings occur on the right-side rows, a row-2 cable crossing means that row 1 is a set-up row worked from the back side.
• Note 4. For completely obscure reasons pertaining to how my brain works, I had the darnedest time getting my set-up row to work correctly.

The observation in Note 4 is one of the reasons I am grateful for swatches. They can make life lots simpler by bringing potential problems to my attention.

It's not complicated to do a set-up row and I've done it more times than I would want to try to remember, but it wasn't working. Nor were the following rows falling into a rhythm the first time I knitted the swatch. Or the second time. I was concerned that I'd need to revamp the patterning, because I didn't want to feel like I was fighting the pattern the whole way. That would have defeated the purpose of this project.

So I decided to try working my first set of cable crossings on the FIRST row, instead of the second. No set-up row.

I ripped the swatch and started again. For whatever reason . . . nothing at all changed except the set-up, so the fact that this shift succeeded is almost totally illogical, but I don't argue with results . . . this went fine and produced the green swatch you see.

• Note 5. BUT, looking ahead, I could see some challenges in the sequence moving from the ribbing to the transitional increases (which I'd normally work on the set-up row) to the main pattern area. If I worked the increases on the last row of ribbing, I'd have to cross the cables directly above the increases. That would be a little awkward to maneuver, especially since one of the cables is a 2-over-3 cross that's tighter and more fiddly than the predominant 2-over-2s.
• Note 6. I thought: What if I worked the increases in the second and final rows of ribbing? I've never seen this done (it probably has been) but I didn't see why it wouldn't work. I tried it, using lifted increases between the two stitches in a pair of knit ribs and keeping them within that rib (which became a k3 instead of a k2) for the couple of rows until the ribbing was done. I worked most of the increases (10) on the right-side, second-to-last row and some (just 3) on the reverse-side last row (which, worked on that side's knit ribs, produced p3 ribs when seen from the front). That way the stitch count for the main pattern area was well established before I hit the first pattern row with its cable crossings. (By the way, the reason for doing initial cable crossings on the first or second row is well explained in Janet's book.)
• Note 7. Here's the plus of working in a darker-than-average yarn: I blew off my own preference for knit-to-knit and purl-to-purl flow from ribbing to main patterns, in part because in the medium-dark yarn that transition wouldn't be very obvious anyway.

My new primary cable is the 2-over-2 alternating pattern that shows up pretty well in the center of the green swatch. I was afraid that it might be a bit undefined at its edges, so on either side of the swatch I worked a narrow section of that pattern with a regular 2-over-2 rope cable running up its sides. As it turns out, I like the plain version so well that I thought about taking out the rope cables, but ended up going with the sequence exactly as it is on my swatch, using both variations.

• Note 8. I made the decision to use the underarm and side-edge texture pattern specified on the original pattern to make increasing in pattern relatively easy. I'm keeping the outside stitch at each sleeve edge in stockinette, to simplify later seaming (I'm knitting the sleeves flat, and haven't decided yet about the body).
• Note 9. And I decided to work the sleeve-edge increases every 6 rows, to correspond with the 2-over-3 cable crossings, instead of every 8 rows, as specified in the pattern, just to make it easier to remember when to do them: Time for the fanciest cable? Increase at the edges, too! The sleeves get a little wider a little faster and reach their full width just below the elbow. That reflects one of my preferences for sweaters anyway: I move around a lot, and more ease at the elbow is beneficial.

Here's the proof that my decisions were the right ones:

The sleeves are coming right along, and I'm enjoying knitting them. I've knitted during a lecture, while watching a bit of television with my daughter, and elsewhere. And I am knitting a row or two when I need a break from computer work, or just to think a bit about how to solve a problem. The project is doing exactly what it was meant to do.

• Note 10. Interestingly, there's a nice symmetry in the way the cables flow out of the ribbing. In spite of the fact that I let go of that part of my intention in its strictest form.

I do keep my chart handy, and it's got sticky notes on it, but I can tell what happens in the next right-side row with a quick glance and then just do it. Even though there's a bit of pattern fiddling on the return (reverse-side) rows, what needs to happen on them is always obvious from looking at the work, rather than the chart. Before I'm done with the sleeves, I'll have the whole sequence memorized so I can work without the chart, although I'm not there yet (mostly because I'm not paying enough attention).

Since I took the second photo, the sleeves have gotten noticeably longer.

In fact, the only problem with this project is that I'm enjoying it so much, and making such good progress, that I'll need another project to fill the same knitting role a bit sooner than I might ideally want.

Then again, I think I'll like wearing this sweater, so that's a reason to be okay with finishing it sooner than I intend.

Finished: The chenille sweater

The chenille sweater! Finished!

A lot of constraints guided the design and construction of this sweater, which is for my acupuncturist. She has trouble with most protein fibers (wool, alpaca, and so on); she's either allergic to them or more sensitive than most people to the prickle-factor, even (as it turned out after many swatches) on the finer varieties of the more luxury fibers. Yet because of her preference for natural materials, I didn't want to head for the synthetics.

We finally decided on this old-gold color of Crystal Palace Cotton Chenille—not a color I would ever knit for myself (except as an accent ), and therefore a new experience for me.

She knew she wanted a cardigan; she's quite small and has trouble finding sweaters that fit. She doesn't like ribbing, especially at the waist. She wanted a V neckline.

She wanted quite a simple shape, so I started with a modified drop-shoulder (there are some stitches bound off at the underarm, so the top of the sleeve is closer to the actual shoulder . . . it doesn't "drop" as far onto the upper arm area, which was my decision because she is small and might have looked "swamped" in a regular drop-shoulder design). She also thought stockinette was dandy, so I needed to think of other ways to make this an interesting project for me to work up.

Playing with Korsnas sweater construction gave me an idea for finishing the edges without ribbing. I worked the lower edge of the body (A) back-and-forth in single crochet (Korsnas sweaters are worked in the round; the effect is slightly different) and then picked up loops along the top edge (B) and knitted up from there (C).

(These drawings are in no way to scale or proportionally correct. They're just sketches.)

When the body was complete, I worked the front bands in single crochet, putting in four buttonholes on one band; there would be five buttons, but the fifth would go close to the neck. I normally would have worked the edging all the way around the front opening and the neckline, but I wanted to take the finishing process in stages because I was making it up as I went along and there'd be less ripping if I did it incrementally. I actually ended up doing no ripping at all on the finishing, probably because I did it in stages!

Then I sewed the shoulders together and worked single crochet around the neckline, with decreases at points 1, 2, 3, and 4, and the fifth buttonhole at the top of the appropriate band. The sweater is shown as if it were worked in pieces, in order to show the whole neckline, but there weren't side seams.  The body was worked all-in-one, as it's shown in the first sketch.

Here's a drawing that shows the sequence of the bands (unshaded in this version) and the way I set the sleeves into the armholes. Each sleeve also started with a lower band worked in single crochet, with loops picked up for knitting. I worked the sleeves flat (and both at once). There's an underarm seam on each sleeve, but not on the body.

I hope she likes it!

P.S. She loves it. It looks both a bit elegant and quite a lot comfortable, and it's cozy. Not wool-cozy, but still. . . .

How I get myself into knitting trouble (again)

I'm mostly knitting swatches for publication illustrations except that I've just finished two larger (and more complex) projects that will be given to other people (more on those soon, I hope). While attempting to knit one colorwork swatch as I was watching a video, I had to rip three times. Obviously, that swatch required more attention and I needed a knitting project that I could work on during movies.

I have several projects going, but none of them feels appealing.

In February, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, of Yarn Harlot fame, finished a Must Have Cardigan from a Paton's book. She liked it. So I ordered the pattern book to take a closer look. I liked what I saw. And I've been pondering making one.

But as I pondered, I realized I'd have to lengthen the body by about 2 inches (5 cm). I always have to lengthen the body. And as I thought about that, I realized that the way the primary cable interacts with the neckline might end up disturbing me. It would change, of course, from the way it works in the design.

Instead of neatly paralleling the front opening, the cable would probably turn a corner and dead-end into it. I could, of course, adjust where I started the cable above the ribbing to compensate, but frankly I don't like to pay that much attention to row gauge and I don't like to engineer things that closely (although when I follow my thought process, I realize that statement seems totally bizarre).

So I plotted out the basic structure of the sweater . . . noting how the patterns work together and how they fit into the shapes of the pieces . . . thought about just finding another 23-stitch cable panel to substitute for pattern B, one that would not have such neat diagonals and so wouldn't care how it intersected with the V neckline.

And I also thought about how I like my cable patterns to flow out of the ribbing, even if that means my ribbing is irregular (i.e., mixes k2s and p2s and k3s, plotted to be in locations where they'll flow into the pattern above).

All this was looking like more time and planning than I had in mind, but this is how I get myself into knitting trouble. Something that was supposed to be simple ends up being a bit more complicated.

I also thought that with all the cable knitting I've done, I don't own any of it myself. I've given it all away. What I knew at this point was that I wanted a V-neck Aran cardigan for me, in worsted weight, with some combination of patterns resembling, but not identical to, those in the Paton's design.

So I went to a couple of local yarn stores in search of a nice worsted-weight wool that was light enough to show texture patterns and dark enough to be practical in my life. There's a skein of what I ended up with in that photo. It's Cascade 220 (again), color 9336. Brown Sheep's worsted was a close contender, and might have come out in first place if the shop had had enough skeins of any of the colors I wanted to use; someone else had gotten there ahead of me on the blues, purples, and greens and the shop hadn't had time to restock.

Good sign: I didn't get a bag for my purchases. I just carried my skeins (and the buttons for another garment) in my arms. As I was just outside the door of the shop, two people I didn't know at all asked if the yarn was going to be turned into something for me, because, as they said, "It's a great color for you."

Next I needed to wind the skeins into balls (I let the shop wind the first one for me, and I'll do the rest during family-and-friends visiting times). And I needed to look for a substitute cable.

I pulled out a bunch of my standard pattern references and my sticky notes.

I wanted a cable panel that felt as classic as the original, and that wasn't going to be boring (I have to watch out for this "not boring" inclination: my "carryaround, easy" knitting projects can too readily become "need to pay attention all the time" endeavors . . . there's a fine line between not-boring and much-brain-required).

Several of the books offered promising alternatives, but nothing felt right. I'm going to be working with some Elsebeth Lavold ideas for the embellishment of my daughter's (first) sweater and there's another Lavold design that I bought the pattern for last week . . . but I want to spin the yarn for that one, which means it probably won't get done for at least a year. So, in the interest of variety, I leaned away from Lavold-inspired options. I've been wanting to work a bunch of the patterns from the Japanese book, but the ones that I found most appealing kept pushing me in the direction of a totally different sweater concept. Some of the stuff in Barbara Walker's compendium (cable-specific volume rather than design collections, because I wanted the hunt to be easy) was nice but. . . .

AH! Where's my brain? I have two of Janet Szabo's books right here, and if there's anyone who knows cables, and knows how they can be both classic and contemporary, it's Janet. So I pulled her books off the shelf and brewed a cup of tea.

Fast Lane, from Celestial Seasonings, because I've been feeling kind of dragged out lately (computer problems and more). Since my acupuncturist said "no coffee" (to a serious coffee lover), I've come to appreciate the return of Fast Lane. At certain moments, it's medicinal. (It's not the caffeine she wants me to avoid but the coffee oils, also found in decafs.)

Meanwhile, I had knitted a first swatch and it's lying there drying. I knitted most of it in a darkened Cinema Savers theater while watching a bit of amusing fluff called Penelope with my daughter and some family friends. The swatch was simple enough. Stockinette.

Janet's Cables, Volume 1: The Basics is more comprehensive than the title sounds. There's lots of very cool stuff in it about how cables work. I'm looking forward to seeing what Janet comes up with in the next volume, although there's plenty here to keep me busy until she has it ready. And I'm looking through her Aran Sweater Design to see what kinds of ideas it gives me as well.

I had thought I would just replace the main cable, but now I'm thinking of that whole canvas of front cable panels . . . and I thought I'd keep the side edges of the cardigan in Irish moss stitch, but Janet's got some neat texture patterns that I'd like to try. . . .

In order to maintain this project's "carryaround, easy" status, I'll need to be really careful about which components I choose to combine. I'll be especially vigilant (I hope!) about being sure that the cable crossings occur on similar rows (or rounds, if I decide to steek, although I may not . . . this shows that I am already thinking of working the body all in one, instead of in three pieces; now, exactly what parts of the Must Have Cardigan am I using? . . . to be determined).

No, I wasn't born knowing how to do all this pattern modification. I learned it largely by trial and error over a number of years, but the thinking process that leads to my ability to make small (or large) modifications to patterns (or to launch into a design without them) comes directly from the lineage of traditional or ethnic knitting.

My strong belief in the power of the skills that come from understanding traditional and ethnic knitting is the reason that I publish the books that I do.

And where the path on this particular sweater will come out is anybody's guess right now. But I know I'll end up with a sweater that isn't just half-right. It'll be all the way right (or close enough to all the way right . . . I aim for perfection, but often take some risks that keep me from achieving it). And I'll undoubtedly learn something I didn't know before I started down this path. Which was supposed to be simple. And will undoubtedly be interesting. And may take a while.

• Aran-style.
• V-neck.
• Cardigan.
• Worsted-weight yarn.
• Similar combination of panels.
• Set-in sleeves.
• Bike.
  

Computer problems: Much better than a toothache

Still no pictures here.

Computer saga, with perspective

As Buddhist monk and simply wise-person-in-many-dimensions Thich Nhat Hanh observes, the good thing about a toothache is that it teaches us how nice it is not to have a toothache. I extend this teaching to the understanding that a mess of computer problems is also much less painful than a toothache, and working computers are much more convenient than malfunctioning computers.

To recap, with some updates:

• The original computer (code name A3) that was doing strange things was sent back to the manufacturer (after many days of online and phone contact with tech support and many drastic actions here). I've received an e-mail saying it will be back some time in the middle of next week, although no human communication to indicate what the problem might have been. The assumption is that the problem has been fixed. This computer will now become my daughter's, thus improving and speeding up her work with the Nomad Press images (she is using a nine-year-old P3, 448MHz, maxed out at 768MB RAM, code D1; she will have a two-year-old P4, 3.0GHz, 4MB RAM, that being A3).
• The replacement computer (A5) I ordered for myself arrived and after six days (including many drastic actions like restoring factory defaults three times) was shipped back to the source. I don't know whether that particular machine is a lemon or whether some of the non-essential software was interfering with the installation of the software I need to run, but PCConnection graciously agreed that it was time to give up on it.
• The exchange computer (H6) that I ordered was listed as "ships in 2+ weeks," which was really bad news but after another day of research it looked so much like the best alternative that I figured I'd just have to tough it out for another two weeks. The great news here is that my call to one of the manufacturers to ask questions about my specific needs connected me to a young woman named Cressida in the sales department. I said, "I do print publishing. I tend to have InDesign, Photoshop, and Illustrator open simultaneously, and I put together large files that may contain as many as 600 linked images." Cressida said, "Ah, I know your problem. I'm a graphic designer." ! She steered me away from both computers I was considering and toward another, saying, "THIS is what you need." It's no more expensive than the ones on my list. So I ordered it, thinking that I'd limp through the waiting period by installing the most essential programs temporarily on the laptop, which is a Linux machine but does have a small XP (Home) partition on it.
• However, the laptop (T4) has only 256MB of RAM (it was bought to run Linux, after all; it didn't need much RAM . . . which puts me in mind of my first computer, which did very nicely with 64KB of RAM, although of course it didn't multitask). Adobe Creative Suite 2 requires a minimum of 384MB to install. There are ways to force the Adobe installer to work with less RAM (as little as 100MB), but even if I did that it's not like I could then open an InDesign file for a heavily illustrated book. The laptop is upgradeable. The RAM for it, ordered at 3:30 on Thursday afternoon for overnight delivery (extra cost), will, through the peculiarities of order handling and shipping, arrive by overnight standard delivery by 3 p.m. on Monday. Oddly, if I'd chosen regular shipping (USPS, probably Priority Mail) it would most likely be here now. Oh, well. (According to the tracking number, it arrived in town at 5 this morning, but it's not like FedEx would let me drive out to the depot and pick it up. The depot is closed.)

I have written in my head, but not gotten onto this blog, several posts on how it's a miracle that any small business survives. This is just one of many of the amazing types of hurdles that small businesses deal with every day.

Taxes are due in ten days, too.

Knitting helps

So yesterday I left town. Sometimes it's good to just change the view completely.

I went to Denver for three other errands, listening to Thich Nhat Hanh while I drove.

Along the way, I got to visit A Knitted Peace for the first time, and there was a Habu trunk show going on. Very cool stuff, including two pieces I might even wear . . . although I don't get dressed up enough that I'd use them more than once a year.

I learned about String too late for a visit. Next time.

After my errands, I ended up at the Tattered Cover on the way-south-end of the metropolitan area for Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's road tour appearance. I sat near the back, next to Erynn and and Isaac and Isaiah, whose photos are on Stephanie's blog, as well as two Wyoming folks who'd driven 4.5 hours to be there (one of whom I knew from Cyndi Lee's knitting circles at the Yoga Journal conference in Estes Park . . . nice to see, and visit at length with, someone I knew!). I also got to briefly see Amy Clarke Moore and her daughter Hannah, a child whom I had only previously seen in photos. If there were a cutest kid contest and Hannah was in it, the other kids would all be very worried and might even go home, no matter how cute they were.

Stephanie is, of course, very talented both on the page and in person, putting together excellent humor and thoughtful content, and I brought home a copy of her new book, Things I Learned from Knitting (Whether I Wanted to or Not), which will be very sanity-inducing to read while I am waiting for my current band-aid computer (D2) to load Firefox (4 minutes), move an e-mail message to a folder (30 seconds to 2 minutes) or pick up mail (20 minutes or more, although I usually leave the room during mail pick-ups).

During the Yarn Harlot event, I finished the hand-dyed rayon Landscape Shawl variation (based on Evelyn Clark's pattern), with 1.5 inches (3.75 cm) of yarn to spare. Photos when possible.

I have also finished my acupuncturist's cotton chenille cardigan. When I left for Denver, it was drying on a towel after its initial washing.

Sometimes knitting progresses when other things don't.

Shifting sands in the publishing world

In another development this week, Amazon is attempting to force authors and publishers who use print-on-demand (POD) printing technology to use the printing service that Amazon owns to produce copies sold through Amazon. If the publishers and authors don't agree to this change, their books' "buy" buttons on Amazon will be disabled. Amazon is also setting the pricing and discount structures for the sale of these copies. Although Nomad Press doesn't produce its books with this technology and is not affected by this move, we have been vulnerable to other Amazon policy changes. "Amazon is attempting" means, essentially, "Amazon is doing this." They do hold nearly all the cards in the game they're playing.

Some very good news conveyed by e-mail

My copy of Stephanie's book is unsigned. The south-end Tattered Cover is very far from my home, so I left without waiting in line, although I sent hello-and-hang-in-there-on-the-tour-blitz messages to her with friends. I got home before 11:30 p.m. but didn't turn on my computer. It would have taken most of an hour to retrieve e-mail.

When I fired up the old machine (D2) this morning, I discovered the following lovely message from my stalwart primary contact in the technical solutions (I think "solutions" is much better than "support") department at PCConnection, with reference to the "ships in 2+ weeks" exchange computer that was plugged into their ordering system for me late on Thursday:

• "Deb, The units are due in today. John"

! ! ! !

I think that counts as a miracle, right up there with completing the shawl and the cardigan within inches of the last of their yarns.

Adventures in TechLemonLand

I still have no pictures. I continue to limp along with the help of a seven-year-old computer that wobbles frequently but has not (knock on wood) completely lost its mind. Unlike the new system.

____

No news on the original problematical machine, the one that started all of this.

I've just restored the new, replacement computer to factory defaults for the second time and am about to power it down and put it back in its original packaging, with all original papers and other bits and pieces, and ship it back to its source.

One should not have to be messing with the Windows registry just to install software. Or not more than just a very little bit.

After six days of full-time effort, a new computer should have on it at least one packet of owner data, or one user document. This machine did have a small handful of my actual files over the weekend, when I thought I was making progress even if by devious means, but they were eradicated when I restored the factory defaults the first time. This has been far too reminiscent of the days of CP/M operating systems and the need to know about hex codes to install a printer.

Note: I have bought a number of pieces of equipment from PCConnection over the years and have always been happy with the service. That's true in this case, too. The folks there have been very helpful, even though they've been as baffled as I have been by the weird goings-on with this machine.

A couple of days ago one of the tech support people (Mike) e-mailed me some ideas about how to manage the corrupt registry, and he included this quote at the end:

• As Henry David Thoreau once said, "Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end."

It has helped preserve my sanity.

And last night, John at PCConnection sent me this wonderful message:

• "I think we, meaning mostly you, have tried just about every reasonable step to resolve this problem. I own a [computer name] that has given me very little trouble but that does not mean they can't have problems. . . . If you have a complete unit down to the packaging we can work on exchanging this system."

I have a complete unit. I even have the tiny screw that was rattling around inside the tower when the shipment arrived, and the plastic bag the box was wrapped in.

And now I have an RMA number!

_____

Other progress, in the cracks between computer-wrangling sessions:

1. Once I realized that appropriate computer channels would not be available to set up a freight shipment, I figured out how to do it through other means. Some time today Yellow Transportation will show up. I hope my daughter is here (i.e., has finished her shift at the bookstore) and will be able to help me move, stack, and shrinkwrap the 1800 pounds of books I've got organized and labeled in the garage. (We will both be glad to be able to open the freezer door again without raising the garage door and moving our two bikes out onto the driveway.)

2. I have almost finished the cotton chenille sweater for my acupuncturist! Can't wait to take photos of that. It looks pretty good.

3. I am making forward progress again on the shawl that is an invention on Evelyn Clark's Landscape Shawl concept (I'm making a shawl, but putting on the shaped ends of the scarf, and customizing the size and configuration to the amount of yarn I have . . . which I slightly miscalculated, thus the pleasure at making forward progress after some backward regression).
____

Okay, I have a computer to put back into a box, and a bunch of other stuff that's running behind to catch up on because of that computer.

Copyright infringement, another opinion: Should we independents "retire" in defeat?

I've received another comment to which I was composing a too-long response, so it's turning into a post of its own.

The topic is copyright infringement and the comment came in on this post.

Here's Michelle's comment:

Ladies, as much as I understand your frustration I wish to respond in a way that is not as supportive as other entries on this page. I am sorry to say that technology is going to grow with or without you. Anyone who expects a business to be protected against website publishing is probably around retirement age. If properly blanketed by a solid, reputable publisher the chances of protection are closer to a guarantee. Perhaps you should invest more time in researching publishers rather than letting everyone know something they already do. We know you have to eat and we know how unfair people can be. Move with the times or retire gals.

And here's my reply:

Hi, Michelle:

The problem is not "website publishing" but stealing of copyrighted material, whether intentional or not.

As a publisher, I have choices about how to present the information that I make available to other people. I publish this primarily through print media, although I certainly evaluate my options on an ongoing basis and have been considering electronic delivery for some future projects.

At present, print still seems like the best way to provide knitting-related information of any length and complexity.

Making the material available exclusively electronically (which I assume is part of what you mean by "technology is going to grow with or without you") would obviate many difficulties of the current print-publishing system, including freight costs, damages and returns, and the other inefficiencies and expenses of today's book distribution, which is, frankly, not in step with the times at all. However, it is a reality as much as is the technology of electronic communication.

Electronic books are not yet easy to read for extended text, and the equipment to display many of the currently available formats is still financially out of many people's reach. PDFs can be displayed on standard computers, to which many people do have access. However, computer-only display of books means the text isn't as portable as a traditional book—no reading on buses or subways, in bed, and so on; even laptops are not yet noticeably convenient in these locations. I think that most readers would consider it an imposition (and not very satisfactory) to have to print out and make some sort of binding for their own copies of books that are several hundred pages long, and that's what they'd have to do to get the flexibility of a bound book from an electronic delivery system. In addition, electronic distribution doesn't solve the problem of piracy, and may make it worse.

I obviously think that not publishing the books that I do would be a loss for the knitting and spinning community, or I wouldn't be doing it, but perhaps that's my personal delusion.

Then again, I'm far from alone. A number of knitting designers (who are not publishers but writers and providers of patterns) are struggling with issues similar to those faced by publishers like me: how best to deliver the information, how best to get paid for the work that gets done to create and present the information. If these problems don't get solved, then these sources of material will dry up. The people who are writing, designing, and publishing (through our own efforts or through association with others) will find a different kind of work to do.

What you are saying, as I understand it, is that the only people who should be publishing books (or providing pattern designs, and so on) are those who are well-funded enough to have a flotilla of lawyers at their command. That goes against a lot of ideas I care a great deal about—including free speech and free enterprise and being able to choose to work in a basement that I own rather than a cubicle that someone else does.

I know I'm paraphrasing you, but this is what I am hearing in your message: "Life's not fair. No one should act unless that person has lots of money to defend him or herself. Also, you must be old and you should retire." Each of these declarations, whether true or not, misses the point of the primary issue under discussion.

I don't think the problems of copyright infringement have anything to do with age. Young or old, creative people need food, shelter, and clothing, just like corporate drones do. It does sound like you want us all to be corporate drones or to leave the workforce entirely. I put the word "retire" in quotes in the title of this post because "retire" isn't an option for most of the people I know who are doing this work. We need to work for a living, so our only "retirement" would be from doing work that we are unusually qualified to do, and that would not be an age-related decision. I suspect that some of the older people in this field may be active on matters of copyright protection not only for their own sake but also in order to protect future options for the younger folks. And while you address the group as "ladies," not everyone implicated by these issues is female.

Life's unfair—you're right. And no one here has asked it to be.

Yet unfairness may run rampant if we don't name it, and people won't stop doing things that are unfair—or wrong, or illegal—unless and until we do some acknowledging and some educating. When you say "technology is going to grow with you or without you," you may also mean that we should not bother to do whatever is in our power to increase the amount of fairness in the world. Unfair behavior won't go away completely no matter what we do, but simply to succumb to unfairness by saying that nothing can be done about it is defeatist. Inaction also has long-term, serious, negative consequences.

Your statement suggests that "solid, reputable publishers" are either immune to piracy or better able to protect themselves from it. I assume, because of the context of this discussion, that by "solid, reputable publishers" you do not mean the independents but you do mean the imprints of the conglomerates. It is not true that they are immune to piracy, and they may be even less able to protect themselves in some ways. Although the bigger publishers may have lawyers on staff (some do), they also have more titles to keep track of. And if the editors at those corporations cannot produce P&Ls (profit-and-loss statements) that come out in the black more often than not, then their publishing wings will be clipped as well. Those editors, the creative spirits of the publishing houses where they work, will be required to do something else. The big publishers' P&Ls are affected by copyright infringement, as are the P&Ls of the smaller publishers.

Then again, maybe the ability to create new ideas and to share them through publication and to earn a living or a partial living for one's effort doesn't matter—maybe it doesn't matter to you, and maybe it doesn't even matter to human cultural heritage as a whole.

I think it does, and I'm willing to take a stand for it.

The truly positive news that has come out of the discovery of illegally scanned books' availability on the internet is that there are people who would like to have access to this information who apparently cannot obtain it easily and legally. I'd love to find a solution to that problem, whether the fix is electronic or physical. I'm all about supporting creativity, whether of those who provide information or those who use it to spur their own unique projects.

I think that every one of us stands on both sides of that gate from time to time. The trick is in making sure we can see over to the other side, regardless of where we're standing at the moment.

Deb