The Independent Stitch

Shetland: A new resource for vintage knitting designs

My interest in Shetland textiles focuses on the sheep and their wool, in large part because that’s what I love. As I travel this particular road, I’m grateful for the gifted researchers and designers who pay attention to traditional and contemporary Shetland textiles. Among these people is Susan Crawford, whose previous four books have delved into knitting from the 1920s through the 1950s. For the past four years, Susan has traveled to Shetland twice a year (lucky!) to spend time selecting twenty-five tantalizing knitted pieces from the collection of the Shetland Museum and Archives, examining every stitch, and designing patterns that will allow contemporary knitters to be guided by the works' creators in making reproductions of the pieces or simply being inspired by them.

I’ve seen in person some of the works Susan has selected. I look forward to viewing them through her eyes as well, since she’s had the opportunity to study them in far more detail than I have.

This stunning vest, for example—when I discovered it in the museum on my second trip there, I didn’t want to quit looking at it:

It’s a long way to go to visit a garment, but the experience was memorable—and soon we’ll be able to get a close look without so much travel, because Susan’s Vintage Shetland Project is in the process of being funded through Pubslush. As I’m writing this, the project has gathered £19,998 with a goal of £12,000. I’m not surprised that it’s already exceeded its goal. Susan has a reputation for doing exquisite work. All of her previous books have been self-published, so we know how well she will pull this one off. We also only have to wait until November to see the book published.

You can hear Susan talk about the project on the Pubslush page, and get glimpses of a number of the garments that she has gotten to know so well. I’m including a few of my favorites here. I’m seriously wishing a trip to Shetland was in my schedule for this year (so many fine people; so many great ideas), but I’m still processing the piles of information I collected there last fall. . . .

It was hard for Susan to choose from the many garments in the museum, and it's hard for me to choose what to feature from the twenty-five she has selected. But here are a couple of them:

The breathtaking delicacy of that lace! Wouldn't it be lovely to wear?

There's a strong Scandinavian influence in Shetland, and it shows up in the knitting, with a shift in flavors.

And this cardigan ranks as a favorite for many reasons. Obviously both beautiful and well loved, it deserves to be reincarnated on 21st century needles and given more chances to bring joy into people's lives.

Go check out the Pubslush page, and also there’s a blog tour going on. Here’s what’s happened to date, if you want to see more pictures of cool stuff:

KnitBritish

Tasha By Gum By Golly

Hazel Tindall

Ella Gordon

Jess James

Jen Arnall-Culliford

Maja Karrlson

Karie Westermann

Rachel Atkinson

Coming soon:

Julia Billings - tomorrow

Helen Magnusson

Tom Van Deijnen

Kate Atherley

Jamieson & Smith

Donna Druchunas

Felicity Ford

Ysolda

Donna Smith (check out her post on Carol Christiansen’s taatit rugs study and the exhibition, too)

Susan Crawford

(Cruise around these blogs: it took me a while to write this post because I kept finding interesting things to read.)

For those of us who like yarn for its own sake, Susan has been collaborating with some mills to develop yarns suited to knitting vintage-style pieces—exciting!

___

And, by the way, one reason that it’s been so quiet around here is that I’ve been learning WordPress and moving my blog and site to that platform. There are only so many hours in a day, and I’ll be glad to get back to writing instead of learning software. Nonetheless, it’s a good move and very soon you’ll be finding me at The Independent Stitch.

Happy reading, knitting, and spinning to you. . . .

Lithuanian knitting: unusual and approachable continuing traditions

Years ago, when I edited Shuttle Spindle & Dyepot, I learned of Lithuanian textiles through weaving, by way of work by Antanas and Anastazija Tamošaitis and by Kati Meek and an awareness of the Balzekas Museum of Lithuanian Culture in Chicago (SS&D Summer 1986). Lithuania is one of three countries tucked into the curve at the eastern end of the Baltic Sea, along with Latvia and Estonia.

Later I met and published several books by Donna Druchunas, who has delved deeply into her Lithuanian roots with a special interest in the knitting heritage. Donna included some Lithuanian material in her Ethnic Knitting Exploration, for which I knitted the samples as part of the design and publishing process. Donna's dedication and rigor make her a great working partner.

Knowing Donna led to my meeting June Hall, who lives in Cumbria, in northwestern England, with a flock of Soay sheep and has been my generous guide and connection to that part of the world. June, too, digs long and hard into the subjects that catch her intellect and interest.

They both have studied the Lithuanian language, traveled to Lithuania, and now (over more than eight years) collaborated on a book: Lithuanian Knitting: Continuing Traditions.

 

It’s a great honor to host Donna here with a blog post celebrating the imminent publication of Donna’s and June’s book on Lithuanian knitting (and sheep and wool). She’s written us a splendidly technical introduction to how she came to know some of the techniques in the book—and notes as well that you can knit the book’s projects with the techniques that are already familiar to you. It’s just interesting, and possibly useful, to know exactly what methods Lithuanians use to make their stitches dance.

— Deb

P.S. I’ll be back with more blog posts before long. My time for writing posts has been consumed by other pressing needs, but it looks like some of those will soon be resolved.

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Guest post by Donna Druchunas

What is Lithuanian knitting?

What makes knitting Lithuanian? Is it special techniques that are used? A unique way to hold the yarn and needles? Certain combinations of colors? Interesting pattern stitches?

All of these things, and more. The techniques I’ve included in Lithuanian Knitting: Continuing Traditions are all based on vintage accessories in museum collections, reproductions of Lithuanian National Costume ensembles, or folk art pieces made by contemporary knitters. These instructions are adapted from Mezgimas (Knitting) by Anastazija Tamošaitis as well as other vintage and contemporary Lithuanian knitting books in my library, along with tips I’ve picked up from Lithuanian friends. I’ve modernized some of the decreases and made other adjustments to make the techniques easier for contemporary knitters.

I love vintage knitting books and have my own small collection of nineteenth-century English-language books, but the earliest Lithuanian-language knitting books I’ve discovered so far were published almost a hundred years later. Sodžiaus menas kn. 5: Mezgimo-nėrimo raštai (Village Arts no. 5: Knitting patterns), by Antanas Tamošaitis, came out in 1933 and Mezgimas (Knitting), by Anastazija Tamošaitis, Antanas’s wife, was published in 1935. 

Together, these two books form a wonderful foundation in Lithuanian knitting. Antanas wrote about the spiritual significance of folk art and documented colorwork motifs and mitten and sock designs from regions around the country, while Anastazija wrote instructions for knitting a variety of accessories using traditional motifs and colors. Mezgimas also includes instructions for knitting techniques that were not traditional in Lithuania, but which Anastazija may have learned about in The Encyclopedia of Needlework, by Thérèse de Dillmont, which was published in 1884 and became a hugely popular reference throughout Europe.

Most of the Lithuanian-language knitting books in my collection were published between 1959 and 1979, during the Soviet period. Most were written by Lithuanian authors, but others were translated from Russian. I found these books on eBay and at used book shops, street fairs, and flea markets in Lithuania. These books are quite similar to the vintage English-language knitting books I have from the same period. They include basic knitting and crochet instructions, a stitch library, and a collection of projects. Many of the books also include basic dressmaking information, along with tips for sizing garments which may be quite detailed or as vague as, “Models are given in one size. If you make a gauge swatch, it will be very easy for you to determine the number of stitches to cast on for your own size.”

I’ve been learning to read and speak Lithuanian, so at first it was a challenge to figure these books out, but since I’m quite fluent in knitting and they all have lots of charts and diagrams, it’s been a good way to learn the parts of the language related to knitting.

The basics: Grandmother’s knitting

My grandmother taught me how to knit when I was in kindergarten, maybe even before that. I started out with a stockinette-stitch swatch and wrapped the working yarn snugly around my left index finger, like a bobbin, to control my tension. 

“When you knit the yarn goes in the back and the needle goes in the back of the stitch,” Grandma told me. “And when you purl, the yarn goes in the front, and the needle goes into the front of the stitch.” The formula was easy for me to remember and I learned to knit and purl with equal ease. I didn’t know that this was called the Eastern Uncrossed or Combination method of knitting, commonly used in Russia and parts of Eastern Europe. To me, this was just Grandma’s knitting.

One of my favorite Lithuanian knitting books, a small volume called Megzkime Pačios (Let’s Knit) by O. Jarmulavičienė, presents the basic knitting stitches just the way my grandmother taught me. Other books offer up instructions for the standard modern-European style of knitting and note that this is the common method used in books, but in the old days, most knitters (in Lithuania) used močiutės mezgimas, or “grandmother’s knitting.” Both methods are interchangeable, the authors explain, as long as you pay attention to your work. In general, the books do not show drawings with hands, but the working yarn always trails off the drawings to the left, with the assumption that knitters will carry the yarn in their left hand, no matter which way they form their stitches.

Knit and purl stitches

Knit = back/back. To make a knit stitch, hold the working yarn in the back, and insert the right needle into the back of the stitch. Pick the yarn with the tip of the right needle and pull it through to form a new stitch.

Won’t you twist your stitches if you knit into the back? Not if you purl wrapping your yarn in the opposite direction. 

Purl = front/front. To make a purl stitch, hold the working yarn in front, and insert the right needle into the front of the stitch. Pick the yarn in the same manner as you do when knitting.

With this technique, switching back and forth between knits and purls is easy and fast. After I practiced for a bit, the process became unconscious as the yarn “automatically” moved to the front or back of my needles as necessary for the next stitch. Ribbing and cables followed quickly for me, and I never realized that purling was supposed to be difficult. Moving your yarn to the front or back of the needles is something that is not even mentioned in Lithuanian knitting books.

To knit without twisting your stitches, always work into the leading (or right) leg of the stitch. It doesn’t matter if it’s in front of or behind the needle.

Decreases

While I was doing my research on Lithuanian knitting techniques, I stumbled onto an interesting discussion in the Combination Knitters group on Ravelry about Lithuanian (and Russian) knitting and how to work left- and right-leaning decreases. This is an important topic, and perhaps the most confusing to knitters who knit in the Lithuanian fashion. Because your stitches are oriented on the needle with the leading leg of the stitch at the back, the normal decrease instructions in English-language knitting books don’t make any sense when you look at your stitches on the needle.

Left-slanting decrease 

A left-slanting decrease is usually worked as ssk in America these days. In my Lithuanian knitting books it’s usually called simply "knit two together," but because the stitches are turned, you put the right needle into the back of the two stitches to knit them together and the final decrease leans to the left. Sometimes it is explained like this: 2 akys, sumegztos kartu gerai iš apačios (knit two together from the bottom, or back). But it’s not usually so simple, because knitting terminology is not standardized in Lithuania, so each author explains things in her own way.

• If you knit in the Western fashion, with the leading leg in front, this will be twisted. You can turn the stitches around first so they don’t twist, if you prefer, which is usually called ssk. 

• If you knit in the Lithuanian fashion, with the leading leg in back, this will not be twisted.

Right-slanting decrease 

A right-slanting decrease is worked as k2tog in America. In my Lithuanian books, this is sometimes explained as 2 akys, sumegztos kartu gerai iš viršaus (knit two together from the top, or front). This creates a decrease that slants to the right, but the stitches are twisted. Depending on the yarn texture and color, this may or may not be noticeable in the finished knitting.

• If you knit in the Western fashion, with the leading leg in front, this will not be twisted.

• If you knit in the Lithuanian fashion, with the leading leg in back, this will be twisted. You can turn the stitches around first so they don't twist, if you prefer. There's no formal name for this maneuver, but it is similar in concept to ssk. It is actually only necessary to turn the second stitch around. The first stitch will be the bottom stitch in the decrease, and will be hidden.

All of this is very technical and fascinating to me, but you can knit any of the projects in Lithuanian Knitting: Continuing Traditions in any techniques you like. In fact, most of the projects are knitted in the round, which eliminates many of the differences between močiutės mezgimas and standard Western knitting techniques.

A Lithuanian knitting book made with lots of Lithuanian involvement

I’ve been working on this book with my co-author June Hall since 2007, with several trips to Lithuania for both of us between then and now, along with uncounted hours of writing, knitting, and editing.* We are finally ready to send the files to the printer. To pay for this, I’ve been holding a Pubslush crowdfunding campaign (like Kickstarter but only for books) and we're over 100% funded today with just 5 days left to go! I’m so excited that so many people are helping me make this dream come true in a way that will give back to the Lithuanian economy. The book is being printed in Lithuania, and the extra funds that come in will go to our Lithuanian art director, Marius Žalneravičius.

I hope you’ll take a minute to check out the fundraiser. If you like what you see, you can also pre-order your copy through this campaign and get some special rewards as an extra bonus!

Thanks!

~ Donna

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* Not to mention lots of language study, leading up to and during the project.

More from Deb: I signed on early at Pubslush to get one of the first copies of Lithuanian Knitting. This is going to be a very cool book that I’ve been following and supporting since it was a vague dream. If you go to the Pubslush page, you can see Donna’s video and hear some snippets of Lithuanian music and see preliminary pages—well worth the 4 minutes.

There are more posts in the book's blog tour here. Felicity Ford's post has a photo of Lithuanian coarse-wool sheep.

PLY magazine has arrived!

There's way too much going on around here, and I have posts-in-mind about Kentucky, and Estes Park, and some of my research into Shetland sheep, but meanwhile I've been, instead, writing things like my mother's obituary. As much as I love the other parts of my life, family comes first. (What's bigger than "love"? I don't know. But that's what goes in the second half of that sentence.)

Last night, I arrived home from the Estes Park Wool Market and the North American Shetland Sheepbreeders' Association's annual meeting in time to attend a local theater group's performance of David Mamet's Oleanna as a staged reading. Because I have season tickets and didn't have time to check the particulars of the evening's schedule, I didn't realize until I got there that it would be a Mamet play, which, to me, means (1) emotionally fraught and (2) things will not end well. Not exactly what I need right now. However, I made it through the event, which was acted and directed in interesting ways.

Then today's mail brought something much more cheerful and encouraging: the first issue of PLY magazine!

The topic of this first issue is "firsts," and it includes an article editor/publisher Jacey Boggs asked me to write on "first sheep." There are a lot of other firsts, including how to buy a first fleece, who might have been the first spinners, what was the first spinning wheel, starting a fiber guild. . . . It goes on. I'd list the contributors, but really, you just need to get the magazine.

Here's the introduction to my article (and there are great sheep photos later on, including the wild sheep species that either definitely or probably did, and most of those that did not, contribute to our domesticated varieties):

Back cover, irresistible:

Intended for the very curious spinner with a bit of experience—enough to enjoy the types of questions asked, and the variety of personal answers offered.

It's a gutsy thing putting out a magazine, even an established one. It's beyond comprehension to start a new print magazine at this point in history. As Jillian Moreno, now on the editorial advisory board, said to then-prospective editor Jacey, "You are nuts—it will break your heart. Let's do it." Part of what I love about the fiber community is the number of people within it who go ahead and do things that require intelligence, risk, compassion, and nerve: where the fully realized heart requires jumping off the cliff.

I look forward to reading PLY #1 cover to cover.

Penny Straker's knitting patterns

There's a Kickstarter project going right now to fund converting Penny Straker's knitting patterns into digital format. Since every little bit helps, I've kicked in my contribution. There are lots of reasons why, even on a slim budget any spare bits of which tend to go toward the acquisition of out-of-print books about sheep or wool, it took only a few minutes (deciding which level) to commit to this endeavor.

Penny Straker's designs are described as classic, and that certainly applies to garments I can put on twenty-five or thirty years after making them as if they'd been finished yesterday, and still get compliments on as soon as I walk out the door.

Penny Straker's designs also taught me a great deal of what I know about careful planning and construction of knitwear: the fine points of the craft.

What major contributions they've made to my life!

It was fun to go to the Kickstarter page, when a friend told me about it, and see a video of Penny Straker herself talking about the project. That link's the same one found in the first paragraph, and here's another that talks about the history of the Straker designs, although I'll skim across a few high points in this post.

First, though, as soon as I heard about the project I went to my closet. I pulled out the Straker designs that I still have and wear. Then I thought about others I'd made: the child's Owl sweater in lavender Harrisville sportweight yarn for my daughter when she was a toddler (when she outgrew it, I hope I sent it along for her cousin to use; it's not here; both daughter and niece are adults now); the Staithes guernsey that I made for my sister in natural dark brown alpaca; and more.

The fact that I could immediately locate or recall so many projects that owe their origins to Straker designs is a big deal. I've knitted a lot. I made all of these garments in just a few years when my daughter was young. I didn't take notes, except on the patterns themselves, so the details come from my brain cells. The experiences were remarkable, and entirely in good ways.

And when I look at the array of Straker designs, I want to make even more of them.

Second, I wondered how many of the original leaflets I could find in my rather full box of single- and small-collection paper patterns. Without as much effort as I expected to invest—like, in about four minutes—I came up with fourteen:

The copyrights are all 1981 and 1982, which means they were new when I discovered them. I've knitted most of these designs. Ten are Penny Straker's own. Four are by her mother, Janice Straker. Where links are not included below, the patterns are out of print and thus not currently available in any format. Which is a bummer. I hope and trust that it's a temporary bummer, because of Kickstarter.

These are, top row, left to right:

• Jennifer Cardigan (Janice Straker), #770—sportweight, "intermediate" level—I have this one, and will show it to you in a moment; a penciled note says Borgs yarn—a reason it would have lasted well! Although I also see that I swatched for it in Briggs and Little, which would also have been a good choice. I'm dating myself with both the patterns and the yarns, and that's okay! It was splendid stuff.
• Gretel Pullover (Penny Straker), #876—worsted weight, "intermediate" level—I have this one, too; you'll see it.
• Staithes Guernsey (Penny Straker), #796—worsted weight, "seasoned intermediate" level—my sister has this.
• Owl Cardigan (Penny Straker, more recently updated with a charming hat), #C818—sportweight, "intermediate" level—knitted for my daughter in, I see, size 4.
• Blackberry Jacket (Penny Straker), #746—another one I have.

Middle row, left to right:

• Tuckernuck Jacket (Penny Straker), #799—and yet another I still wear.
• Becky Pullover  (Penny Straker), #737-P—light bulky weight, "beginner" level—made and given away? Size 42 notes in place.
• Mercedes Pullover (Janice Straker), #101—for Elite's Manhattan mohair (an unusual, because yarn-specific, design, but yardage and weight are also given)—made and given away? Size 34 notes, and a two-page letter from my mother, on blue paper, tucked inside the flap.
• Potomska Pullover (Penny Straker), #740—worsted weight, "seasoned beginner" level—toward the top of my list yet to knit, along with Inverness, a candidate for the digital project that I don't own in a hard copy.

Bottom row, left to right:

• Jamie Cardigan (Janice Straker), #837-C—sportweight.
• Boater Pullover, adult  (Penny Straker), #841—worsted weight—I made the child's and liked the project well enough to buy the adult pattern; I may have knitted it, too.
• Rigby Vest  (Penny Straker), #802-V—sportweight, "seasoned beginner" level.
• West Bay Pullover (Janice Straker), #735-P—sportweight.
• Boater Pullover, child's (Penny Straker), #C841—worsted weight, "beginner" level—made for my daughter in size 6.

I'm sure there are a few more hiding in the pile. If the patterns were digitized, I could locate them without digging through a box.

I love these originals. I love their consistent and clear formatting; their gray borders; their black-and-white photography (described by Penny Straker's own website as "outdated," although the neutral color left this knitter's imagination free to fill in with favorites).

Yet the information itself, more even than the presentation, is what's magic about the Straker patterns. Here are some of the things that have been unique, or way ahead of the pack, about them:

• They are nearly all written for generic yarns, with yardages and/or weights given instead of the number of balls of a specific manufacturer's product. For handspinners, this is great and it was very unusual for the time (still is, to some extent), although I also used commercial yarns—and I'll say I chose well, as you'll see in the garments to come.
• The back of each pattern contains essential basic information on how to measure, how to choose a size, basic washing instructions, and metric/American equivalents for needle sizes. The pattern overflap often contains information on yarn qualities to help the knitter choose good materials, as well as guidelines for checking gauge, and sometimes additional technical points.
• Even the "beginner"-level designs are intriguing.
• Pattern stitches join and flow together impeccably.
• There's an abundance of technical information: techniques are clearly chosen, described, and illustrated.
  • From the Jennifer Cardigan description: "The Mock Cable decorates the yoke and cuffs giving the knitter the opportunity to become familiar with the pattern stitch before beginning the Raglan decreases which shape the armholes. These decreases steadily break into the Mock Cable pattern. This section of the cardigan requires a working understanding of the stitch. At the beginning of every right-side row, the knitter has to calculate exactly where to resume the all-over Mock Cable." In the "old days," we discovered these things on our own as we worked the patterns. It was fun, but it's nifty to be warned in advance. More on this in a moment, when I show you my Blackberry Jacket.
• They teach excellent design practices, and are reliable guides in their execution. 
• Each size was test-knitted, so the detail work designed into one size carries over to the others. (Read that again and marvel.) The patterns have also been very carefully edited and proofread. If not perfect, they're extremely close to that.
  • I don't recall having found an error. Ever. My notations indicate that sometimes I altered the construction to eliminate side seams, but not that I found any problems. The Straker website has one pattern with errata, from a 2010 version of the child's Staithes sweater. It's always good for me to find evidence that other people who seem to be able to accomplish perfection—which I keep aspiring to, working hard to reach, and failing at—are actually human, too.
• They're printed on cardstock in a weight, size, and format that can hold up to the challenges of being stuffed into a knitting bag repeatedly.
  • With the ability to print out new copies of a digital pattern for each use, this is not as big a deal as it used to be, but it's still worth noting. The fact that those patterns in the first photo have been used says a lot for the physical objects. Although I didn't keep many records on my knitting projects, I can tell a great deal about what I did with these patterns because I jotted notes on them and they've held up well.
• The typographic design and layout are clear and easy to follow.

Other knitting designers and writers who followed have built on these foundations, but there are aspects of the Straker patterns that many could still benefit from studying. Now that some of the pattern descriptions are on the website for Straker Designs, there are a couple of plusses we didn't have with the printed versions:

• Degree of difficulty is indicated. There is also now enough information to allow the prospective knitter to understand the philosophy of the piece and its design components. Interesting that I type "philosophy of the piece," but yes, that is a big part of the simple explanation that accompanies each pattern in the digital presentation, and a philosophy definitely underlies the design process that informs these pieces.
  • Here's a portion of the description for the Becky sweater, a "beginner" piece: "The directions are threaded with caveats, pointers and illustrated techniques to help all knitters enjoy the knitting process of this pullover." Again, we found this out by using the patterns.

I can't say enough nice things about these patterns, nor can I adequately credit the benefits they have given me as a knitter. So I'll show you a few of the things that I made from them.

Here's Gretel: decades old, and much worn. Good yarn. Great design. Lots of fun to knit. I did slightly modify the heart design (giving it more height), because I'm long-waisted, always need to add length, and wanted the hearts themselves to be very open. My graph-paper notes are taped inside the pattern, one of them bearing the inscription "shoot on black backdrop, larger photos." (That would have been film I was shooting. I have no idea why I needed the images.)

It was a yarn called NZN in a color called orchid. Although I don't know what wool it was spun from, it behaves like a fine-micron Romney. Thus it has very, very few pills, despite advanced age and wear, and yet isn't itchy.

Here's the Blackberry Jacket.

Aside #1: I had that wonderful tweedy purple yarn, from Candide, but not enough of it to make the jacket. I'd probably gotten the skeins on close-out. I worked at Webs at the time, both helping customers and filling mail orders. (Webs was not then located where it is now. It was behind the post office in an old Victorian house, the third location that I know of: (1) Elkins' basement, (2) behind the police station, (3) behind the old post office.) I wanted to use the yarn for this jacket despite the scant supply. Fortunately, I realized in advance I would run short. So I found the two other colors—the navy and . . . hmmm, I think that pink may have been a leftover bit from Gretel . . . and planned how to combine the colors so it would look like I'd meant to do so from the start. I actually think the addition of the pink lines just above the ribbing are what turn it from "doing the best I can" to "yes, I absolutely meant to do this."

Aside #2: Thanks to Penny Straker, I did shape the neckline, the sleeve openings, and the set-in sleeve caps in blackberry stitch (also known as trinity and a few other names) while keeping the pattern intact. The stitch count varies from row to row, so working increases and decreases that don't interrupt the texture is an extremely interesting technical challenge. I haven't encountered a stitch pattern since where I didn't think, "Well, if I could do refined shaping in blackberry stitch, I can sure do it in this stitch."

Aside #3: I did modify the pattern to eliminate side and sleeve seams. That's just my preference. I do it routinely.

And now for the Jennifer Cardigan, one of Penny's mother Janice Straker's designs:

I bought more of Janice Straker's patterns than I knitted: I love their delicate detail work, so I use them for inspiration, but for the most part they don't fit my sturdy style as well as the other designs. It's nice to be able to dress up in the Jennifer cardigan. However, I usually need sweaters that are a bit more robust.

Like this one, which will get its own full post some day (possibly soon, but you never know):

It's a variant of the Tuckernuck jacket. It's handspun. I'll tell its bigger story later. It's another "need to make up a yarn deficit" one, with some wrinkles.

But for now, a snippet of a digression: in 1986, when I flew from Massachusetts to Colorado to talk with Linda Ligon about whether I might come to work at Interweave Press, the two sweaters I wore were the jackets shown here, Blackberry and Tuckernuck.

The Kickstarter project aims to digitize forty-four Straker patterns, beginning with a first round of fifteen. Although only one of the patterns I want sooner rather than later is in that first round (the Inverness Pullover), I look forward to having access to the full range of Straker designs, especially the Shalor Cardigan, Galway Cardigan, Jim Vest, and Eye of the Partridge Pullover. I've admired a number of the others for years (decades, now) and would be delighted to be able to pick them up easily, as needed.

The thing is this: Even after more than forty-five years of steady knitting, I know I can still learn a lot from Penny Straker's patterns, and that I will have a good time (and produce timeless garments) in the process. I'm really glad I chose good yarns for them. I design a lot of my own garments now, and have for years. One of the reasons that I do so with confidence and a sense of adventure is because of the experiences I had with these patterns.

Go check out that Kickstarter project, if you feel so inclined. If you do decide to support it, make sure you do so at a level that gets you some of the wonderful patterns for your own delight.

Kristi's Nourishing (Nibbles and) Knits

During my years as an editor at Interweave Press, I didn't have time to participate in any fiber groups—other than those that naturally arose as part of work, which were more task-oriented than social. I still don't have a lot of time. So I'm especially happy to have found, a number of years ago, a particular knitting group. We meet one night a week. We have no scheduled activities. We show up, we knit, we talk, we occasionally vent, we often laugh, we go home. Oh, yes, we also eat. Because we start showing up at 6 and hang out until at least 8, maybe 9 or later, we do have food around, although it's not planned.

This is the group that supported me through the research, spinning, and writing of The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, although most often—unless deadlines were just too imminent—I'd take my R&R knitting, like the Ink sweater. When I showed up with my spinning wheel, these good folks would know that I was seriously scrambling. I'm grateful for the ongoing and unqualified friendship of each individual and of the cluster that includes us all.

(Four folks are missing from that picture: Kristi Schueler, who took the photos of the group at our gathering last week; Dee, whose dining room we refer to as "the clubhouse"; Irene, who participates more often in the summer; and Ashley, who now occasionally commutes from her new job in California. Present are Kathryn, Amanda—who can be recognized as one of the models in Nourishing Knits—Sarah, me, and Rebekah. Rebekah's wearing her first completed knitting project, a blue wool pullover with a cable motif on the front.)

This group has also informally supported another recent project during its development: Kristi's Nourishing Knits: 24 Projects to Gift and Entertain. This electronic book contains a dozen knitting projects and a dozen (well, a generous dozen) recipes. The yarn-related and kitchen-based components are paired, with stories about each. Kristi is a gifted knit designer, recipe deviser, and photographer (she took the author photo of me that's on the back of Fleece and Fiber). We watched the development of the patterns and we taste-tested the recipes, sometimes in multiple iterations (from yum to WOW).

In the next photo there's Dee, pouring the spice tea that makes our world go 'round. (Recognize the sweater I'm wearing? Sarah's working on a Swirl, and has actually figured out how many stitches are in each section, as well as a total, and gives us reports on her status. She's an engineer. Dee's working on a Swirl of her own, and being an accountant has prepared a spreadsheet and revised some calculations: her work-in-progress is on the table in front of her. I think Kathryn is knitting socks. Rebekah is making another sweater. I have no idea what I'm knitting. I may have ripped it out. No, I think it might be a Christmas present that will be ready by spring.)

In addition to providing perspective, useful and not, on Kristi's knitting designs, we have joyfully contributed reliable feedback on her kitchen adventures. In the reddish glass by Kathryn and on the plate in front of Sarah are a few remaining saffron pastries that Kristi brought last week. They were absolutely scrumptious: not too sweet, delicately flavored, satisfying.

Nourishing Knits contains lots of options of the knitterly and cooking varieties. I subscribed to the early version of the book, so I've been getting updates as things progressed. Now it's finished, and I have the whole thing! You can, too. It's currently available only through Ravelry, the online knitting community (free memberships), but Kristi is working on a landing page on her website as well so non-Ravelry folks can get it.

One of the patterns in the book is "Guided by Love," a sock design constructed on one of Cat Bordhi's architectures so that pawprints go spiraling from the toe area up to the cuff, with "guided by love" added in braille beadwork around the top of the sock. (Note: Designing pawprints in lace is no small accomplishment. I've done it, independently. Getting the components to line up correctly takes a lot of trial and error. Kristi's standards for how things will work are really high.) Early sales of this pattern earned $1400 in donations for The Seeing EyeTM. The accompanying recipe is for Bow Wow Biscotti, dog treats that were tested by Kristi's dogs. . . .

very sweet Emma, who will, if she knows you pretty well and you don't look at her directly, let you pat her:

and spicy Brandon, a more recent addition to the household:

as well as our dogs, Ceilidh (with some of the yarn for Dee's Swirl). . . .

and Tussah, who, like the others, doesn't get fed people food but is hoping for a pup-biscotti:

. . . plus Amanda's and Sarah's dogs, and maybe some others as well. Everybody's been involved in Kristi's book, at least at the tasting level. All of the dogs shown here are rescues. Being rescued to test Kristi's dog treats is a pretty good deal for a dog.

Looking over the finished product of Kristi's book brings back lovely memories for me. The patterns and food ideas in it have been carefully selected to create similar fine memories for you.

Because it can be hard to know where to start, I'll pick out four of my favorite patterns and recipes.

Although I like and would knit all the patterns, the specific designs that I personally would be happy to cast on for immediately, and be working on by tonight, include:

• "Buttercream," elbow-height hand and arm warmers with twisted-stitch patterning and shaped thumbs
• "Challah," warm warm comfort socks
• "Masala," unique slippers, and
• "Ciabatta," a sweater to steal from the guys

I'd revisit all the recipes. Yet the ones I want to make this week are:

• Savory Pesto Cheesecake, even though I don't like cheesecake! (it pleases cheesecake lovers and non-lovers alike)
• Smoky Sweet Pumpkin Seeds, which I should warn everyone are addictive
• Chai Concentrate, created in the spirit of a local restaurant's exquisite brew
• Pumpkin Fig Muffins, not too sweet, great texture, nice gingery punch, and
• Slow Cooker Black Bean Chili—this stuff is awesome, worth the price of the whole collection

Oops, it turns out I can't limit myself to just four.

Hmmmm. . . . They must have tested the Antipasti Bread Pudding while I was doing something out of town. I'll have to experiment with that one on my own.

Another plus of this book is that Kristi talks about her design processes, for both yarns and foods, and offers suggestions for modifying and principles for diverging from the written instructions. She's aware of allergy issues; likes whole, unadulterated foods; and is vegetarian-friendly.

Both patterns and recipes would be appropriate for the run-up to the holidays (even, for some of them, at this late date), but are also prime candidates for cheering up January, February, and mud-slushy-stormy March. And on beyond that. Check out Nourishing Knits. You'll be glad you did.

__

Photos by Kristi Schueler, © 2011 and used by permission. / I purchased my subscription copy of Nourishing Knits.

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.

3 pounds 10 ounces (1.6 kg)

Yesterday the first six (6) copies of The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook arrived at the publisher's. This morning, I received an overnight box.

What you probably can't see on that package is the weight on the label: 5 pounds (that's 2.27 kg). Of course, that includes the packaging. Yet it's unquestionably a substantial shipment.

I want to share with you one of the most magical moments in publishing: the first glimpse of the completed book. It's still thrilling, even after all these years in publishing. Despite the fact that it's a given that the work will not be perfect (no book ever is, no matter how hard everyone works to achieve perfection). The experience of seeing and opening the REAL book for the first time is an event to savor.

There are lots of photos in this post. I have made them as small as possible; I hope they won't tax anyone's internet connection, so you can enjoy this process along with me.

Packaging components = outer carton, bubble-wrap, and lightweight brown paper protective wrapping.

The people at Storey understand how special this moment is. Editor Gwen Steege made sure this copy got shipped to me as soon as possible, prepared like the treat that it is.

Wonderful paper, tied with yarn. Need to examine the wrappings properly. There's a little hide-and-seek involved.

And a variety of critter variations—I'm only including those that regularly provide fiber.

Turning the package over to open it without tearing the paper, more sheep show up:

Inside: a real book. You mean we've been making a book? That's been the theory, but this is when it feels like something other than a mirage that keeps receding into the distance instead of getting closer.

It's thick.

I took it downstairs to the office and weighed it. Book alone: 3 pounds 10 ounces (1.6 kg).

Opening up: We ran out of room for the maps inside, so a creative decision put them on the front and back endpapers. Editor Deb Burns masterminded this piece. Easy to refer to!

Here's the official first spread:

And looking at a few familiar pages, out of order because I'm just browsing, seeing them finally in the form they have been destined for:

. . . I remember spinning those . . . and these. . . . 

Those are the Lincoln Longwool samples up there. Here's part of the treatment of the Romneys:

Co-author Carol Ekarius is especially brilliant at locating material for fascinating sidebars. We all ended up searching for just the right animal photos, but Carol did the heavy lifting on that part of the book, in conjunction with photo editor Mars Vilaubi at Storey. I'm especially fond of that Romney photo, although don't, please, ask me to choose favorite pictures. I can't; there are too many candidates.

Shortly after the book arrived, Carol and I were on Skype, typing messages back and forth. She had meetings all afternoon and was going to have to wait until she got home to see if she had a box, too.

Here's some of the Karakul information. . . .

And something I'm seeing for the first time: the index, prepared by Kathryn Bright, who is a fiber and animal person as well as a professional indexer (among her other amazing skills). I'm so pleased that she was available for this job.

Area maps from the back endpaper, and photos of two relieved writers (my photo was taken by Kristi Schueler, another multiply gifted fiber person—thanks again for making me look so good, Kristi!).

And the back cover, with a bunch of wonderful quotes by people I didn't know had seen advance copies and sent such encouraging words to introduce the work to potential readers (and browsers: the book is really friendly both to random-and-casual and to linear-and-comprehensive encounters).

Returning to the front. . . .

Both Carol Ekarius and I thought we'd see copies for the first time at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. It's delightful to have this opportunity to get to know the book ahead of time.

Yes, this is the book I have wanted to consult myself. It's in a form that is beautiful and, unlike the clutter of research notes and files or even the proofing pages, easy to leaf through.

Wow. It's real.

___

John Polak, who took all the studio pictures, was interviewed recently on how to photograph fiber.

Interviewer: "Tell me about a particularly interesting shoot or challenge that you have taken on, in photographing fiber arts/textiles."

John's response, shortened: "A new release this Spring titled The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook authored by Deborah Robson & Carol Ekarius. . . . The process of shooting that book with the author and the art director, here in my studio, and keeping all these fibers organized and labeled was immense. But the result is probably the most beautiful book I’ve ever worked on."

___

It is indeed beautiful, thanks to all the folks associated with Storey who worked to make it so—more wonderful folks than I can mention here, but Mary Velgos devised and implemented the most amazing design concept I've ever worked with. Maybe ever seen. I'm very, very grateful to everyone involved.

And I'm delighted that it's almost ready to share with other folks . . . as soon as the main shipment arrives on the ship, clears customs, and gets delivered to the various warehouses. Soon!

Certificate of excellence, part 3

Part 1 is here and part 2 is here.

The Project, including The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook and Handspinning Rare Wools

In 2007, I got caught up in The Project, which was supposed to be a comparatively concise effort, completed by August 2008, and has so far grown to require almost four years and has resulted in the upcoming publication of The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, co-written with Carol Ekarius. I hope and believe the book will delight and inform other members of the textile community as much as the research, fiber processing, spinning, and writing required to bring it into being have supplied me with insight and increased knowledge.

 

 

And then there is the set of DVDs for Interweave, Handspinning Rare Wools. Plus teaching a few workshops on general breed-specific and rare-breed wools.

 

What next?

Well, I could undertake a certificate program (see part 1 of this sequence of posts). That would mean choosing not to write the next book I have in mind; perhaps not teaching workshops on wools, rare and otherwise; and likely not editing and producing publications that present other people's discoveries and support the creative growth of the textile community as a whole.

It would mean I'd need to at least temporarily abandon the exploration of sheep and of wool and of other fibers that truly fascinate me (to complete the initial parts of the certification process). Yes, some of what I know already and want to learn might feed into the in-depth study portion of a certificate program, but I would need to jump through a lot of hoops before I got to that point.

I'm not willing to do that.

When I have read through the requirements of the COE program in its past iterations (the specifications have been revised a number of times over the years, and I don't have a current set), I can already check off the majority of the experiences, although I would undoubtedly have to do them again in order to submit materials for evaluation. I would also need to pay more attention to my spinning in order to produce skeins of the consistency required for evaluation, something I'm loathe to do because it would require me to give up the adventures that have, for example, allowed me to produce the yarn samples for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, some of which (even though they were all produced in a rush) hint at the possibility that I might have the concentration and skill necessary to complete a COE in handspinning. (Or would I get a COE in weaving? Or do a certificate program in spinning through an organization other than HGA? Or complete a TKGA Master Knitter sequence? Is there a certificate in other types of fiber manipulation, one that would let me further explore nalbinding, luceting, bobbin lace, braiding, and tatting?)

Most especially, there at least one book that I want to be researching and writing next.

A digression about something I've learned from yoga

I've been spinning for more than thirty-five years. I've been doing yoga almost as long. I take yoga classes now and again, and at one point, when I was studying with an excellent local instructor, I realized that I had "given" my practice to her. I was no longer doing it at home for my own pleasure. I was waiting for her to tell me what to do, and for her to correct me.

Because my personal, daily practice is vitally important to me, I quit attending the classes and reclaimed responsibility for my own yoga. Without question, I learned a great deal from that teacher and have incorporated valued elements of what she taught into what I do on my own. I also do continue to support my practice by taking occasional weekend workshops—if I'm lucky and if time, money, and location all coincide, as often as once a year—from people I particularly want to study with.

Despite all these years of yoga, I have never had more than a passing interest in teaching it myself, any more than I have been compelled to earn a Certificate of Excellence. The thought comes; the thought goes. I want to keep these aspects of my life for myself, not give them away, as I do with so much else.

End of the yoga digression

Because I am so curious about fibers, particularly wools and most especially about all aspects of the sheep who grow rare wools, my own spinning will likely never reach the levels of proficiency and consistency that I have admired in the work of others. (It's also a bit daunting to have been in regular contact for many years with yarns by folks like Stephenie Gaustad, Charles Black, Sara Lamb, Rita Buchanan, and Kaye Collins.)

I love spinning, and I love working with the yarns I make. I don't care if they are totally consistent. I can count twists and measure angles, and that type of information makes it easier for everyone to communicate details about spinning through media such as print and the internet. In my personal life, I choose not to count and measure very much. The yarns I produce make me happy. The process of spinning delights me. That's enough.

If I'm going to give in many and deep ways to the textile community, as it seems I am wired to do pretty much regardless of personal cost, I'd rather do so in a way that is both unique to me and, in my opinion, most effective and meaningful. My way seems to be through writing, researching, and supporting overall creativity in others. Not by earning a Certificate of Excellence in anything, as enjoyable and personally satisfying as that might be.

In my opinion, the sheep and their wools need a dedicated advocate more than I need a Certificate of Excellence, even if my concentration in earning such a credential did happen to focus on rare fibers.

So no, I won't be going there.

Stay tuned here for more information on where I will be going. Some of it I can talk about in the very near future. Other parts need to stay tucked away for a while. I do always aim to achieve excellence, although I'm going to need to forego the certificate part.

_________________________________________

Addendum

My editing, coaching, and publishing work is not all about textiles

P.S. As part of earning a living, I also edit books on non-textile subjects. As with the books mentioned in part 2, some of the works highlighted below were staff projects, although most have been done on a freelance basis. My roles have varied widely. Sometimes I've just gotten the writer past a stuck spot; a few involved simple manuscript processing and copyediting; and on others I've guided the process from initial idea to completed book.

 

________________________________

I think that's more than enough for now. I've been knitting a bit, and have some photos to share. Spinning in scraps of time, too, and need to take pictures of that. The knitting and spinning are for the delight of it, and to keep myself moderately sane.

30 days to Maryland Sheep and Wool

It's time to count days to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival.

Here's my major sign of spring:

The Maryland catalog. I love Maryland catalogs. I don't care if they arrive dog-eared from their travels through the postal system, as this one did, because they'll get dog-eared after they're in my hands anyway.

This year's edition . . .

has something new:

I think this is a fundraiser for the festival itself. I'm learning details by the minute: just got an e-mail with more (below). There have been several minor shifts to keep the festival free, including a request for a shipping and handling fee for mailed catalogs in 2012 and the announcement that there will be donation opportunities on the festival grounds. I think the book signing, a first for the event, is another creative way to support the festival and keep it accessible. (Another way to do this is to buy t-shirts, of course.) Note cash and checks; no credit cards.

So that's Sunday.

There's one slight problem:

Signing times are Sunday 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. near the information tent, and the Parade of Breeds is at 12:30 p.m. at the show ring.

Be warned. I am not addicted to alcohol, tobacco, or other drugs. I am addicted to the Parade of Breeds at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. I will be taking my "lunch" break to go see the parade. The show ring, fortunately, is not far from the information tent. I'll take my signing pen with me, but I won't miss that event (which, thanks to the sheep, does not always run precisely on schedule, although the humans get it as close to on-time as they can). I'll be at the signing area near the information tent both before and after the parade, though. 

And stepping back a day to Saturday. . . .

I just learned what's happening on Saturday!

For the past several years, Guido Stein has organized a FiberCrawl "after party" for Saturday night. I've attended a couple of times and had a great time (met some new people and new spindles—first time I saw a Trindle—and won a door prize!—a matched set of Lexie Barnes bags). This year, Storey Publishing is collaborating on the party. It will go from 8 to 11 p.m., and will be held at the Sheraton Columbia hotel. There will be, as there have been, food and drinks. I have heard from reliable sources that there will be air conditioning and chairs (I wasn't there last year, but those who were suggest that I should mention this). Bring your knitting, spinning, or other fiber fun. It's that kind of party.

There will also be, or so they tell me, "some giveaways of the book . . . and your presentation." Which means Carol and I will put together about 10 minutes' worth of back story on how we did the book, likely with pictures. That's a work in progress.

Tickets ($10) are required for the after party. Because Storey is sponsoring the event (thanks, Storey!), all proceeds will benefit Star Gazing Farm, described as "a haven for retired farm animals and wayward goats." Check out some of the specific critters who have found a home at the farm, and the philosophy and activities of the place.

Here's a general web page about the party, with links to tickets. For those who are on Ravelry (membership is free), there is a discussion of the party just starting up.

Hope to see folks at Maryland! I will likely be a little spaced out. I'm really comfortable in small groups, prefer not to be the center of attention, and immediately forget my own name (along with everyone else's) when I'm in a crowd. Forgive me now and we'll all have a great time.

I love the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival, I get a huge kick out of hanging out with other fiber folk, and . . . it'll be the first time I get to see the book in its finished form, too! And we get to give some copies away at the party! (Of course we'll sign them.)

! ! !

Okay, more Parade of Breeds photos to end this post.

Can you tell I like the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival? Especially the Parade of Breeds?

Lots of good things have gotten started at Maryland. Like the Save the Sheep project, and, ultimately, this book we're celebrating. What will be next?

Certificate of excellence, part 2

Part 1 is here.

Shuttle Spindle & Dyepot *

In 1985, when I began work as editor of Shuttle Spindle and Dyepot (SS&D), the quarterly magazine published for its members by the Handweavers Guild of America, the organization had just undergone some turmoil, and my first task was to produce an issue of the magazine within a month (normally a three-month cycle). Fortunately, I had been working in book and magazine publishing for a while, although not in conjunction with my interest in textiles. I had not produced a color magazine involving advertising. My learning curve was steep. I met the goal on time (a long story in a short period, and it occurs to me that if there were a COE in editing and publishing, I might have been granted an honorary one).

* It's true that there is no comma in the title of the publication.

I was significantly younger then. (Compare the picture below to the sidebar photo. . . .)

As I looked around in the initial stages of figuring out what to put in the next issue, Mary, the (wonderful) secretary (who taught me how to work with a secretary; I hadn't a clue), said, "There are some boxes under the work table that you should know about. They came from someone who has earned the Certificate of Excellence."

I opened the first box and was awestruck. I pulled out skein after skein of jaw-droppingly beautiful yarn. Those boxes contained the materials that Jane Fournier had prepared for her (of course) successful application for the COE in handspinning. Her yarns, samples, and projects had been shipped to the office to be photographed and featured in an article in the magazine. And then there were her clear, careful binders of documentation.

Highlighting Jane's work in the magazine was one of the most rewarding tasks that I performed in my time at SS&D (December 1985–October 1986).

 

I also published Iris Dozer's article taking a look at the COE program, and I attended a COE judging.

 

 

First Interweave, then Spin-Off

In late 1986, I moved to Colorado to be the book editor at Interweave Press, and began producing books on spinning, dyeing, weaving, and knitting by exceptional authors. A year later, in late 1987, I added to my responsibilities the editing of Spin-Off magazine, focusing on the work of handspinners. (The covers of the issues of Spin-Off that I edited are included at the end of the post that is part 1 in this series.)

The pictures above show only a few of the books I produced during my years at Interweave. The first book, begun before I was officially on staff, was Rita Buchanan's A Weaver's Garden. I edited Alden Amos's book as a freelance project after I left. 

For fourteen years, my job was to encourage and showcase the creativity of other spinners, artists, and artisans, in book and magazine form, and to give them resources they could use to increase their skill and satisfaction in their crafts. (Oh, and I was a single parent for all but the first year.) My own spinning, always present, took a definite back seat. I spun for relaxation, centering, and the feeling of yarn forming between my fingers.

Editing the magazines and books, I got to know the fiber expertise of many outstanding spinners. Those who had earned a COE had obviously found in the program a rigorous support for their natural tendencies to master the craft. Many other equally gifted and proficient spinners, of course, had not used the COE as a tool to guide their learning and growth. Yes, there is something special about the skill levels achieved by those who have gone through the program. Yet a program is not the only way to reach a desired goal.

Save the Sheep

I capped my years at Interweave with the inception, coordination, and manifestation of the Save the Sheep project, which included a contest for readers, a juried fine-craft show that toured North America for two years, and a book/catalog that both accompanied the show and served as a standalone resource on rare-breed wools. Called Handspun Treasures from Rare Wools, that publication is now out of print.

A major surprise of the Save the Sheep project was that I had expected to simply gather and print the background resource materials. When I went to do the research to collect the information, I discovered no one had previously assembled the details on rare sheep and wools that spinners would need to know in order to participate. Was there some mention of "spare time" at the beginning of this series of posts? I keep getting myself into these situations. . . .

Nomad Press

Following my time at Interweave, I took on responsibility for Nomad Press, which had been started by master spinner and knitter Priscilla Gibson-Roberts, in order to present her work and that of others who are documenting and passing along important knowledge.

 

Textiles + publishing

To sum up, over the years I have been involved in the production of a number of textile books, as a staff editor, freelance editor, or publisher. Sometimes I simply had the idea and knew who the authors should be (In Sheep's Clothing, by Jane Fournier and Nola Fournier). At other times I coached the author through a stuck spot. Once in a while I have just tech edited. Frequently I have been involved with all stages, from the first idea to the final layout and production. On rare occasions I have written the text from the author's notes and samples. (No, I'm not saying which books those were. The creative work—the heavy lifting—was the authors'. I was simply a conduit to their publication.)

Here's a sampling of those titles:

 

To be continued in part 3.