Currently on exhibition in my studio…

For many knitters, acquiring a deep affection for the act of swatching can take some time. While we intellectually understand that our efforts are less likely to be fraught with false starts and needle changes if we take the time to make a sample, it can sometimes seem as if the swatch is simply standing between us and the bliss of casting-on.  Never an absolutist, I always keep a place in my work for projects where the planning process never interrupts the creative flow. I love the indulgence of diving into a project head-first at 2am with an artist’s abandon.

However, when I am spinning for specific knitting or crochet projects, I always swatch first. As handspinners, we can tweak a yarn in innumerable ways—drafting method, amount of twist in single and ply, number of plies, etc. I also often find that only half the work of swatching is in the actual creation of the swatch.  When I am planning a large project, I keep my samples and swatches with me as I move through the world to see how the colors interact in different types of light. I can carry them in my purse and see how the yarn holds up to wear. I also often pin my swatches on my studio wall where I will pass them often. I almost always end up changing things a bit and reswatching. My work improves through the process.

Much of my current work is handspun color-stranded knitting. (Color-stranding is when more than one yarn is used to knit a row and yarns are used alternately to create a graphic pattern.) Swatching is a necessity, so I often make the swatch itself a project. Fingerless mitts are a great way to test a yarn and pattern combination. I published this fingerless mitts pattern in the spring 2013 issue of Spin-Off Magazine.

Swatch Mitts from Spin-Off Magazine Spring 2013. Photo: Joe Coca. Swatch Mitts on Ravelry.

I often use this pattern in my spinning and knitting workshops. For the sample mitts shown in the magazine, I used five colors of 2-ply fingering weight Shetland yarn.

Color-stranded knitting motifs (graphic pattern) usually fall into one of three categories: strong horizontal movement, strong vertical movement, or strong diagonal movement (all-over pattern). I used all three in the Swatch Mitts pattern so one color sequence can be sampled in three types of motifs:

A color sequence in color stranded knitting will sometimes complement one type of motif while obscuring another. These mitts use a strong color change between brown and black. Color changes in stranded knitting are horizontal, along the knitted row. The horizontal motif in this pattern compliments the color change. The color change from brown to black does not complement the vertical and diagonal motifs as well. But, who is to say that a slightly obscured motif in a larger pattern isn’t what you want? Try it yourself and see what happens!

Each day was packed with unforgettable food, new friends, and vivid textiles. The most memorable part of the trip for me was our time on Kihnu, a small island that lies not far off the southeast coast of Estonia in the Bay of Riga. We stayed at the Tolli Turismitalu, where I slept in a traditional log barn with a thatched roof. It was perfect. I didn’t sleep much while I was there, as I watched the sun not quite set over the bay only a few hundred feet away.

When we were not biking, we travelled by truck. Perfect for all the beautiful sunny weather.

My wonderful friend Susan Markle knitting in Kihnu Roosi’s front garden.

Kihnu has a unique men’s sweater tradition. The Kihnu Troi, as the sweater is called, is knit using the color-stranding technique in white on a dark background. Indigo-dyed blue was typically used in the past. Black, brown, and occasionally green are used, with black being the most common color of the modern Troi sweaters that I have seen in shops and displays in Estonia. Many sweaters also incorporate red bands into the hem, cuffs, and neck edge, which is believed to help protect the wearer from danger. When the sweaters were newly knit, they were worn to weddings and special events. As the sweater aged, it was used as a work garment and is often associated with the island’s fishermen.

While in Estonia, I eagerly searched out every Troi I could find. With Nancy’s help, I was able to get a close look at three older examples in museum collections. I love looking inside old sweaters. One of my favourite Troi sweaters had armholes cut into the body and sleeves sewn in place with fine handspun linen instead of wool. From the ferry returning me to Helsinki, I watched Estonia fade into the distance. I pulled out my needles and began swatching and sketching a Troi sweater, incorporating all that I had learned in the past weeks–and here it is!!

The pattern was published in Knitting Sweaters from Around the World (Voyageur Press, 2012.)

My husband, Olaf, looking very northern European in my handknit Troi. I used Elemental Affects fingering weight yarn on a US #2 needle.

Exciting news! Judith MacKenzie and I will be offering a workshop at The Tradingpost in Pendleton, Indiana on April 26-28th, 2013. I am really looking forward to it! If you have any questions about the workshop, email me at katelarsontextiles@gmail.com. To register for the workshop, see Susan Markle’s contact info at the end of this post.

Dressed for the Photographer: Ordinary Americans & Fashion 1840-1900. Joan Severa. Kent State University Press 1995.

I have a fairly short list of things without which my life would be greatly diminished–such as sheep, tea, travel, textiles, and books (not necessarily in that order.) The very best is when more than one not-to-be-without item can be found in one place. Tea drinking sheep, perhaps not. Historical textile books with a unique perspective on material culture, yes! I found Dressed for the Photographer: Ordinary Americans & Fashion 1840-1900 at my wonderful local library branch, Kennedy Library in Muncie, IN.

In looking at old photographs, I always have a great awareness of how much information is held within the photo–and how much of that information is inaccessable to me. A full understanding of the broad historical context of the sitter, in addition to the minutia of daily life and dress, is needed to truly unlock the secrets of an old daguerreotype. There are certainly aspects that are always left unknown. Did the sitter borrow clothing or wear her own? Did the photographer rearrange her shawl or does she typically wear it as photographed? But how a sleeve is cut or a bonnet trimmed can tell us so much about the social context and personality of the sitter. One of my favourite photos from the book is by photographer Charles Van Schaick (pg. 513.) The image is of a Norwegian couple in La Crosse, Wisconsin, walking along a storefront surrounded by town life. The woman strides out ahead of her husband with a sure step and gives the camera a level gaze. On her manner of dress, Severa shares “The entire costume has an ‘Old Country’ flavor not in its cut and fashion but in how it is worn. For one thing, she wears the mannish hat in an uncompromising manner, without any trimming whatsoever, which, in the New World, certainly marks its wearer as ‘different.’” I would love to have met this uncompromising, un-corseted woman.

Book is broken in to sections covering each decade from 1840-1900.

This book is like having costume expert Joan Severa sitting with you, looking over photos and filling in the gaps. I have learned so much and have not gotten through half of this tome of nearly 600 pages. So, if you have requested this book at the Muncie Public Library, you will just have to wait a while longer–I’m not done yet!

Six textile-obsessed years later, the stars aligned and I was invited to participate in the 2012 event as a mentor. Amazed and thrilled, I was! Now that it has come and gone, I am left feeling as I usually do after SOAR—creatively energized and brimming with new and renewed friendships. I’m still digesting the experience, but here are some highlights:

Snow. When I arrived it was seventy degrees. By the next day, this is what was outside my window. It snowed for days and then the sun came out—spectacular!

Snow at the Granlibakken Resort, Tahoe City, California.

Amy Clarke Moore, the lovely editor of Spin-Off and Jane Austen Knits, took some pictures of my three-day workshop. My classroom was amazing: huge windows on three sides looking out into the snowy trees. We spent the afternoons knitting round the fireplace—really. I had so many wonderful people in my classes all week. I hope they had as much fun as I did!

Amy Clarke Moore took some great pictures of workshops in progress. View more on Facebook.

Unexpected bonus: my colorwork bag was on the cover of the SOAR event booklet. Yay!

One of the high points of the experience was getting to know some of the other mentors a bit better. They are such an amazing group of interesting folks. Now back at home, I know that I will continue to carry the creative inertia of the SOAR community through my year.

Two of my fellow first time SOAR mentors: Diane Gonthier and Amy Tyler (left to right). Photos by Amy Clarke Moore.

Judith collecting lichens for the dyepot. Orcas Island, Feb 2012.

The effort to help Judith MacKenzie rebuild her studio following the fire in Forks, WA, is well underway. I delayed posting this until I had plenty of info. I have met two of the three wonderful people who have created this website and they (all three) are an important part of Judith’s network in the northwest. As many of you know, Judith is not one to ask for help, but she does know about this relief effort and the organizers are working with her to determine her needs. It was a horrible fire—I am so thankful we are talking about replacing looms and no lives were lost.

Judith has been a tremendous force in my life and I am happy to have a way to help in the rebuilding of her textile studio. 

Visit Rebuild Judith’s Studio to make a donation, add an item to the online auction, or leave a note for Judith.

Sweet Feet: Spinning for Socks Nov 16th 9am-4pm

Spinning Woolen or Worsted? Nov 17th 9am-4pm

The workshops will be held at the Swinney Homestead in Fort Wayne. Details Here.

Three bags full. This clip will yield about 200 lbs of wool.

Shearing day. The flock started this week as fluffy, wool-laden beasts and are now sleek, shockingly white, and shiny. The sheep actually quite like shearing day. Our wonderful shearer, Matt Kennedy, sits them on their rumps and quickly shears them. Matt then lets them roll off the shearing mat, leaving a huge pile of wool behind. My sheep usually walk themselves back to the holding pen to join the rest of the flock. What happens next is of great delight to any shepherd: they ruminate. Sheep who feel safe and contented ruminate (a more delicate term for chewing their cud). It is a blissful and meditative state. So, they spend the rest of the afternoon with sleepy, half-seeing eyes, chewing their cud and satisfying itches formerly inaccessible through their full fleece. And they sigh. A lot.

Anyone who buys fleeces or raises sheep ends up with a pile of wool that isn’t good enough to use. Fleeces are skirted after they are shorn to remove unsavoury bits and pieces. How much is removed depends on how dirty the fleece is and the expectations of the person doing the skirting. Typically though, this means removing the neck, belly, and britch (back leg) wool. This leaves the best parts of the fleece ready for washing.

What to do with all of this unwanted wool? I compost most of my skirted wool, but my favourite way to use it is in the making of kitten nests.

Our farm has twelve barns, so barn cats are a necessity. Outdoor cats without enough to do can disrupt native ecosystems, but our cats usually stay busy patrolling grain-stores and hay-mows. So, I often put piles of skirted wool in the places used as nurseries by the mother cats. Right now, there is a little cat family living in The Office. My great-grandfather, Urbane Carter, used this space to settle sales during livestock auctions held on the farm during the 1950′s. The cats find it is a grand place to hide kittens.