The Independent Stitch

Upcoming book on Dorothy Reade's original knitted lace ideas

Was it just a year ago that I was knitting that lovely, rich red afghan from bulky yarn? I had hoped to have the afghan back from the publisher for use this winter, but it's not here yet. I've heard that a number of the items knitted for the book it will appear in are going to be displayed at the big needlework trade show in June, sponsored by TNNA. Then maybe it can come home!

The book the afghan was made for is called Successful Lace Knitting: Celebrating the Work of Dorothy Reade, and it's by Donna Druchunas. That subtitle is really important. Dorothy Reade was really important, and most knitters haven't heard of her. Among other things, she was instrumental in helping get Oomingmak Musk Ox Producers Co-operative going in Alaska. You can read some about that in Donna Druchunas' earlier book, Arctic Lace.

While Donna was working on Arctic Lace, she got intrigued by Dorothy Reade's story. First she did more research. Then she got a group of contemporary knitters to make projects based on a couple of dozen of Reade's original lace patterns. The resulting projects—by a bunch of amazing designers, and one by me—are wonderfully inspiring.

Here are my previous posts related to the project:

• First post, on beginning it.
• Second post, on the inspiration and the peculiarity (for me) of knitting with bulky yarn.
• Third post, with blocking photos.
• Fourth post, completely blocked and about to disappear from my life for quite a while.

I have just caught sight of the afghan again, for the first time since the end of February 2009! I got to see this photo that was shot for the book, which will be released in a few weeks:

 

I hope that young woman has some nice tea or cocoa, and that it was a cool day when they held the photoshoot, so she could enjoy the experience of being warmed by the afghan.

If you pre-order the book before its publication date through Donna's website, she's making a contribution for every sale to the Musk Ox Farm, which needs some fundraising. They're all closely related—Dorothy Reade's knitting adventures, Oomingmak, the Musk Ox Farm—and this is a great idea that Donna has had, and you'll get your money's worth both in the book and in the form of deferred benefits by supporting research into how to help maintain musk oxen, and supplies of their lovely underdown fiber, qiviut. The official pub date is May 11, 2010.

Meanwhile, a few thoughts on the afghan, somewhat scattered because I'm still reviewing the edited manuscript for The Project. . . .

The inspiration for my afghan came from a bulky-yarn afghan a friend made for me forty years ago. It shows almost no wear, despite regular use as a central part of our family life:

That's my daughter, doing homework (grad student) with the help of Tussah. They're both pretty cozy.

The only problem is that when they are wrapped up in the afghan, I can't use it. Therefore I decided to seize the opportunity of the Dorothy Reade lace project to make another afghan that would meet the same sorts of needs.

It will.

Before next winter.

I think.

If anyone who reads this is at TNNA (it's a trade show, so only open to people like yarn shop owners) and the afghan is there, please give it a pat and tell it I'm looking forward to seeing it again.

Here's more info on the book, with more photos of the projects.

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Meanwhile, The Project has been intense enough that I haven't been able to plant any seeds (we were going to start our own plants this year, and we got the supplies). It wouldn't have taken much time. I just haven't had any moments to spare.

We will have a garden. Last year we built the raised beds, and this year they're already in place.

Last year we also discovered that our biggest challenges in gardening are hail and squirrels. We'll have to see what this year's hail situation will be like. This photo, taken today, indicates that the plans we've been making to keep the squirrels out will all be put to good use.

I missed the really good photo opportunity, where this character was digging so far into the bed that his (or her) whole front half was in a hole. We didn't even plant much in that bed last year—several squash plants (all but one of which were eaten by squirrels) and a few herbs. Three of which were perennials and should have come back up. Except I think they were eaten by squirrels.

Note the wire covering on the small bed in back. We're getting more official this year. We've already got a wire-covered frame to fit over the larger bed. We need to create similar protective caps for the other two.

Flamingos, goats, planning for photo shoots, and musk oxen in need

Life continues to be focused (completing The Project), to the point that it feels surreal. So yesterday morning when we discovered, while walking the dog, that a neighbor's lawn had been flamingoed, the vision seemed nearly normal:

We couldn't tell what the occasion was, although the "lead flamingo," nearest the door, had a card tied to its neck and when we took our afternoon dog walk an extraordinary number of cars were parked along both sides of the street near the same house. I've known about the flamingo phenomenon, but never seen it in action. Apparently a normal delivery involves forty flamingos. In this modest neighborhood, a mini-flock of eleven made an adequate impression.

On The Project front, I believe I will be finished with the goats later this morning. Then we'll bike to my cousin's for a gathering that will include two cousins, their two husbands, my 87-year-old aunt (88 in June!), my daughter, and me.

In addition to working with goats this week, I've been engaging in a series of e-mails with The Project's editor in which we are planning photo styling. The design launch meeting occurred at the publisher about ten days ago, so the art folks are also involved. I've known since we began The Project that the photo shoot, or shoots, will be extensive. When we're in the studio, we will need to be extremely well organized and efficient. I've put a lot of systems in place to facilitate that. Now we're getting close to deciding what to shoot, where, and how. The decisions involve both aesthetic and practical matters.

The editor asked me to send several sets of the locks and spun samples for the art director to use to shoot preliminary photos. These images won't be in the final book, but they will help her conceptualize the layout and help us all plan the week to week-and-a-half of actual shooting. (There is, of course, a book involved as part of The Project, but the manuscript part of this effort feels like just the tip of an iceberg.) So I sent off the Down breeds, seven "sets" of samples in two FedEx boxes (one large and one medium). I was relieved to hear that they'd arrived.

The Down breeds are, however, relatively simple to present. As our discussion by e-mail has evolved, I've also sent snapshots that display concepts required for other fibers, ideas pertaining to tactile qualities that we'll need to convey through the printed page. The big questions involve how.

I'd previously sent the overall concepts that the book wants to be about visually: diversity (of types of fibers) and transformation (from raw material to yarn). (The book will focus on the fibers themselves and on the yarns that can be made from them, not on spinning techniques or finished objects, although those will be hinted at.) A number of ideas that apply to multiple different fibers will be represented by demonstrations involving one fiber. It's like putting together a huge jigsaw puzzle.

Here are some of the "talking point" photos I've snapped and sent off as part of the long-distance discussion.

A typical sample set, very basic:

That's Rouge de l'Ouest: raw locks, clean locks, and two sample skeinlets.

Next, a set showing texture possibilities with one fiber type . . . not all the possibilities, which are infinite, but enough to hint at what can be done. The various people involved in making this book happen need to mumble among ourselves about how best to show whatever can be conveyed in photos. These are all adult mohair. If we show skeinlets, then I would skip the two finest skeins (second and third from the right), because there's not much useful information conveyed by those two at this scale.

However, if we show strands of yarn, rather than skeins, then those samples do offer useful information:

(I've since added more plying twist to the finest white sample; most of the yarns I'm making are more loosely spun than usual in both singles and plying, because they need to showcase the fiber qualities in a photo, not perform well after years of wear in a textile. The project I am spinning for is the printed page, not a sweater or blanket or rug. And I'm spinning very, very fast, with no pauses and few opportunities to improve on my first attempt. Although I've marked some skeinlets to go back to and try for again, if I get the mass of work done in time.)

What the skeinlets offer, over the strands, is an opportunity to hint at the yarns' (and fibers') handling qualities, including drape:

Left to right: cashmere (a distinctive bulkiness, despite its fineness, and a supple quality), pygora type B (drape and luster . . . that's some of the combed-out pygora hair peeking in at the top . . . usually discarded, but interesting in a whole different way), adult mohair (body and luster), and plain standard goat hair (essentially no drape at all).

Here's a color set:

Those are cashmeres. They come from different parts of the world and have different fiber descriptions in qualities other than color—for example, length, diameter, and luster—which we may or may not be able to convey photographically, given our time and space constraints. This is an overview, not a focused study on each fiber.

For fibers that are grown in several (or many) colors, we're trying to at least hint at the variety. One of my dreams has been to include a complete rainbow of the defined Shetland colors, although I'm still missing samples of three of them . . . light gray, mioget, and dark brown have been elusive. While the Shetland breed itself is not currently endangered, the colored sheep make up quite a small percentage of the world population and we could lose them.

Speaking of losing resources, one of my motivations for The Project is an awareness of how vulnerable the living animals are to extinction. They are the providers of these amazing materials that we work with. Some breeds that existed when previous books on fibers were prepared (not all that long ago) appear to have vanished: we can't find them. Anywhere.

Yesterday I learned that the nonprofit research Musk Ox Farm in Alaska needs help (and therefore so do the musk oxen). There are two primary sources of musk ox fiber for textile folk: living animals in Alaska, and hunted animals in Canada. The living population in Alaska is also a primary resource for research on the animals' biology, research that is likely to be critical to these animals' survival in an environment that is being affected by climate change. These critters have been around since the Pleistocene—so for at least 12,000 years—and were hunted to extinction in Alaska in the late nineteenth century. The donation page contains buttons for set amounts, but there is also a "U-pick" option for any amount, and any amount helps.

What if there were no qiviut? Or Lincoln Longwool? Or. . . .

If the animals that produce these fibers die out, people who don't know fibers won't realize what they've lost. If the only food you know has been served from a drive-through window in a styrofoam container, then you can't understand not having access to freshly grown vegetables or artisan cheeses. Fortunately for those of us who do know fibers, one of the best things we can do to ensure their continued presence on the planet, and in our lives, is use and enjoy them . . . and share them with others so they can understand.

While I was amused by the pink plastic flamingos, I am awestruck daily by what I continue to learn about natural fibers, especially those grown by animals: and I've been studying them for decades already.

And now I have an appointment with a goat.

That's colored kid mohair. Here, on top of it, are mostly yearling mohairs and a peek of another kid sample at the lower left.

It's magic: continually unfolding, everyday, in-my-hands magic.