Not Just Any Tam, Dick or Harry

... a very special Snapdragon Tam, in some very special gift yarn.

I am really enjoying the pattern so far, and indeed knitting in general - I hadn't realised just how much I'd missed the soothing, soul-salving stitching. 

'... from one blogger to another!'

Alison's awesome glove transformation kit arrived from America...

... but that was not all - not only did the package contain much owl-ish, glove-ish goodness (above), but she also very generously included two utterly gorgeous skeins of yarn as a gift 'from one blogger to another'!

I am so touched at this thoughtful present, and determined to steam through my Christmas knitting in order to make something special from it all for myself. 

I have just used the conductive embroidery kit, and can report excellent results. I have taken some photos of that process, but I think I'll save them for another post, and leave this one as a simple expression of gratitude - thank you so much!

Place Mats and Napkins

Now that the top secret parcel has reached its destination, I can reveal that it contained place mats and napkins. I made the mats in toile de jouy backed with raspberry chambray, using a combination of the instructions for coasters and mats in Bend the Rules Sewing (an excellent book) as my guide. I am pretty pleased with results, though once again humbled by the experience. Perhaps I shouldn't even be thinking of making garments when I'm still fairly inept at ostensibly easy tasks such as sewing straight lines around a rectangle.

For the napkins, I used these directions for mitred corners, and experimented with my machine's embroidery stitches, which was a lot of fun. I read somewhere that 'sewing' might more accurately be called 'ironing' - these napkins certainly bore this out: it took me an obscenely long time to press the double-turned hems, trim the corners, and re-press, then about one minute to whizz through the machine. Anyway, I do hope their recipient enjoys these pastoral-themed table accessories.

Christmas Knitting Part Two: The Hats

I can't remember the last time we had so much snow. Taking a walk becomes a journey through a series of Victorian Christmas cards.

In amidst this winter wonderland, allow me to introduce Exhibit B: The Icing Swirl Hat, by Ysolda Teague, made for my mum in Rowan Cocoon.

I must make a confession: with about a week to go before Christmas, I broke my stash pledge in buying this yarn. I did use up nearly all of it making this hat, though, so the yasteroid has not taken too much of a hit. The combination of a super-soft yarn and an easy yet satisfying pattern was a soothing one during a stressful train journey. I got 95% of it done in the five-odd hours between Cambridge and Edinburgh, so this really is a good last minute gift choice. I was a little worried that this had turned out too big, but my mum likes the slouch, and claims it keeps her ears nicely insulated. Thumbs up for the Icing Swirl!

Exhibit C: Turn a Square, by Jared Flood (of Brooklyn Tweed fame), made for my brother in Rowan Pure Wool Aran.

With its simple, clean design this makes an excellent (and quick) man gift. It is a basic striped beanie, with raglan-style decreases at the crown that make the stripes into a square. I made it with yarn I had left over from making a scarf for him last Christmas, so now he has a matching set! As always for ribbing, I used Ysolda's tubular cast-on. I also followed the instructions for jogless stripes, which are not entirely jogless, but look very neat nonetheless. Sorry I don't have a photo of that detail - my brother was a rather reluctant and restless model... He does, however, appear to like the hat, and reports that it kept him warm up a mountain. Thumbs up for Turn a Square!

I am really glad I took a little break from my Year of Selfish Knits; it does make me very proud to make things that people like and use. I think I have managed to work free from the figurative gift-knitting milking machine I seemed to get myself hooked up to last Christmas. I guess it's about finding a balance, and keeping the gift projects manageable and fun (it will be a very long time before I make anyone a scarf again...). I have relished starting a new thing for myself, though, of which more anon.

Christmas Knitting Part One: Crofter's Cowl

With a mug of hot chocolate warming my fingers, a Christmas tree coruscating in the background, and thick snow outside it seems an appropriate, if slightly tardy, time to write up my holiday gift knitting.

Exhibit A: The Crofter's Cowl, a free pattern by Gudrun Johnson, made for my mum.

I made this in the Fyberspates Scrumptious DK I had left over from making Liesl (that cardigan took an insanely small amount of yarn - I think I still have enough for another cowl and a hat!). This is yarn made for cowls: it is stroke-ably soft, and the glow of the silk is rather flattering next to the face, though this is not apparent in the next photo, in which I look a bit like Michael Jackson.

I realised about half-way through the first repeat that the horseshoe lace pattern was the same as that featured in the Meret, and after that I barely had to look at the pattern. Even without that familiarity, though, this was an enjoyable and straightforward knit. It went down very well with my mum; I do feel very fortunate that my family value hand-made gifts (take that, Germaine Greer!).

Coming up soon... two hats

ETA: A very happy New Year to everyone - I hope 2010 showers loveliness upon you all.

Why I won't be knitting anything for Germaine Greer this Christmas

A friend just brought to my attention  this article Germaine Greer has written for the Guardian, in which she rails against the 'grisly parade of handcrafted gifts' that are created by knitters and other crafters and foisted on unfortunate friends and relatives. Now I may or may not be engaged in a little desperate pre-Christmas knitting myself, as the mystery macro-ed up photo above may or may not show, and this really got my goat. I realise the article is meant to be humorous, in the hackneyed 'Oh no! Another rainbow jumper from granny!' vein, but as someone who now knows just how much time and effort goes into making hand-knit gifts, I do not find it amusing. 

Even leaving aside the cheap cracks, it seems to me that this is a lazy piece of journalism, and an ill-considered and disappointing response to the craft boom from a very intelligent woman. Greer claims that:

 'Craft was not always so revolting... As long as long as people made craft objects for their own use, they were... functional, durable and dignified. Once they began to make craft objects for other people, the work became coarser, the time taken for manufacture is rationed, and the design becomes repetitive and perfunctory.'

There are so very many things wrong with this statement that if only it weren't such a terrible pun I would be tempted to write it off as woolly thinking and call it a night. It seems to rest on a sentimental and slightly patronising imagined past, one in which time for crafting was presumably not rationed, and all items produced were thus imbued with a mysterious dignity. The knitters throughout history who practised their craft to clothe their families, or to make a living, were indeed probably more skilled than the friend who dared to give Germaine a mismatched pair of bedsocks. They were also frequently subject to the kind of servitude that Greer as a feminist surely cannot endorse, as outlined by Kate Davies in this excellent blog post about the poor recompense of nineteenth-century Shetland knitters.

Her take on craft today is equally flawed. It seems entirely counterintuitive, and somewhat egomaniacal, to suggest that one takes less time and care over things made for others than for oneself. Also, obviously, modern craft objects are not automatically 'revolting'; the alternative - something bought from a shop - can be just as hideous as the socks that Greer is so ungrateful for, without the excuse of the thought and effort that went into making them. What she describes as 'the sinister power of the handmade gift' is a reality, if the word sinister is subtracted, because of precisely that thought and effort, which are intermingled with the item during its making, and evident to the gift recipient after it.

Regular readers of this blog may remember that I designated 2009 The Year of Selfish Knits, after turning myself into something of a one-woman sweatshop last winter. As Christmas draws near again, though, I found the idea of nothing hand-knitted under the tree rather a disappointing one. Without giving too much away, I have made a few things. I recognise the fact that the leisure-time and resources required to do this are themselves luxuries, by contrast to the situation of many knitters of the past who knit because they had to and not necessarily because they wanted to. I do feel, though, that to take the time to make a gift is a small, loving act of rebellion against a quick-fix consumer culture, and should be valued as such.

The Year of Selfish Knits

Gift-knitting  is a most satisfying process. While non-crafty gift-hunters are shackled to whatever happens to be in the shops, we gift knitters are limited only our creative capacities, yarn supply, and the stitching time available. I enjoy selecting yarns, which involves either virtuous stash-diminution, or guilt-free shopping – ‘It’s ok: I’m buying this for someone else…’ I love perusing the thousands of patterns available on-line and in magazines looking for just the right thing for that particular person. I delight in knitting the thing, and the clandestine fun of keeping it a secret from its intended recipient. I savour packaging the finished item, laying it in a rustling bed of tissue paper, wrapping it with the finest paper I can find, and, usually, topping it off with a massive bow. Seeing them love what I have made for them and use it all the time is surely the ultimate knitting badge of honour. 

But what, other than a hypothetical badge, another project on Ravelry, and a warm fuzzy feeling, are you actually left with, after the hand-over of the gift? Nothing tangible, nothing… knitted. Exhausted after a flurry of knitting for other people that started in November and ended in mid-February, I had a small epiphany. Just because I can knit gifts doesn’t mean I am obliged to. I realised I was tired of others feasting on the fruits of my needles while I went hungry (or rather, cold). And while gift knitting undoubtedly has its joys, as described above, it can also be a stressful business - birthdays, weddings, and Christmases all constitute fairly rigid deadlines which, as an expert procrastinator, I never seem to allow myself enough time to complete to meet comfortably.

And so I have made a late New Year’s resolution to redress this balance by re-dressing myself. I hereby declare the remainder of 2009 to be, for me, the Year of Selfish Knits. By the end of it, I would like to be swathed in knitted gorgeousness of my own creation. I’ll be sure to keep you updated on my progress…