Elphaba Pullover

Elphaba (ravlink) is a spell-binding pattern - understandably so given that it's named after a witch. It was fun and surprisingly quick to make.

The yarn is Skein Queen 'Squash', a gorgeous hand-dyed superwash merino 4ply in the colourway 'Blackcurrant' that feels luxurious next to the skin - the whole jumper took less than two skeins!

Do you ever have an idea for a photoshoot that just doesn't work out as you'd planned? As soon as I finished this jumper, I imagined it front of 'Violet Villa', an elegant abode which I daydream about living in every time I walk past. Getting other people to take photos of your knits, though, is a tricky business - non-knitters seem to struggle to focus on the garment and not the surroundings, as above, or me, as below.

To get the two nice photos of the jumper at the beginning of the post I had to bark repeatedly 'Forget about my face - JUST DECAPITATE ME!' every time I saw the camera drifting away from its target. The poor inhabitants of Violet Villa were probably cowering terrified inside.

Shooting From The Hip: Genoa 01/11/2010

Another rainy day, viewed through a steamy bus window. Still, I got lots of knitting done, much of it to  a sparkling Cary Grant film, His Girl Friday.

I fly back tomorrow, and am thinking of keeping this series of posts up, alongside regular knitting content. What do you think? Are you sick of retro photo trickery?

Shooting From The Hip: Genoa 31/10/2010

A somewhat sad and sodden Sunday. Almost everything was shut it town, so I came back to the hostel and finished both of my knitting projects - thank goodness I took an emergency ball of wool! It seems that tomorrow is a public holiday here, so I won't be able to use any libraries or archives... now I'm a bit worried of running out of emergency knitting! And, for that matter, food. But the knitting is my main preoccupation. I hope you have all been having happier Hallowe'ens. 

Shooting From The Hip: Genoa 30/10/2010

Rather a less successful lonesome lunch today. The waitresses studiously ignored me (reminding me of that brilliant George S. Kaufman epitaph for a waiter: 'God finally caught his eye'), and, realising I was not a native speaker half-way through ordering pudding, started speaking very loudly and clearly at me ('This cake has PINE-NUTS - do you know what a PINE-NUT is?'). Then, as the figurative faded cherry on my slightly substandard fruit salad, what should come blaring over their speakers but Celine Dion's 'All By Myself'. I couldn't wait to leave.

Still, I suppose it could be worse. At least I didn't have to participate in the sinister sex-game 'Bunga Bunga' with Silvio Berlusconi, unlike 'Ruby', the latest barely-legal beauty to be connected to the president. Shudder.

Alternating skeins

Warning! This post might be quite boring for non-knitters. In fact, it might also be boring for knitters who are not interested in this specific technique. It also features a lot of rather imperfect iPhone photos. So sorry about all that... but hopefully it might be vaguely helpful to someone.

I am alternating skeins on my Elphaba Pullover, to avoid pooling of the lovely hand-dyed yarn. That sounds so self-explanatory, 'alternating skeins'; it turns out it's not, and it took me a while to find a method I was happy with. I started off alternating every other round on the body, twisting my old yarn with my new at each switch. 

This was ok...ish. The eagle-eyed observer, or the massive knitwear perfectionist (ahem), might be able to spot the slight pucker it caused on the right side, despite my efforts to keep the 'floats' loose:

When I started on the sleeves, though, my results from this method went from 'ok-ish' to 'completely bloody awful': massive holes, sloppy enlarged stitches, unhappy tight stitches - it was a mess:

I was ready to give up, rip back the sleeve and restart it using just one skein, when, as so often happens, Ravelry saved the day. I got a couple of really useful suggestions to my disconsolate forum post on the subject. Firstly, someone (the designer of this pullover, in fact!) recommended I move the place where I was switching yarns from my magic loop join to the middle of a needle - this made things much better already. But then I followed this grumperina link on knitting one-row spirals, and have become such a zealous convert to her method, that I've taken some photos of it in action, in the hope of recruiting more knitting souls to the cause! I'm currently doing the lace cuff to the sleeve, so I can assure you that any holes here are entirely intentional.

Here we are just before the switch - the 'new' yarn is on the left and the 'old' one on the right:

 Knit the next stitch still using the 'old' yarn.

Drop the 'old' yarn and pick up the 'new' (according to grumperina they should never tangle together, though I have not always managed this) to knit the next stitch.

At this stage, the stitch connecting to the 'new' yarn in the row below (underneath the second stitch on the right hand needle - the hole beneath the first stitch is a lace hole, not a bad hole) may be slightly enlarged.

Gently tug on the 'new' yarn until that stitch looks the same as those around it, being careful not to tighten too much.

And that's it - just knit the rest of the round with the 'new' yarn, repeating the steps above when you encounter the second strand of yarn.

And the results?

It's still not 100% invisible, but I think this is mainly down to the colour shifts. Most importantly, it feels great - as flexible and forgiving as stocking stitch should, without being constricted by 'floats' - and it's much less arduous to do than that intarsia-style twisting I was doing on the body. In fact, it's so much better that I'm almost thinking of re-doing the body to match... This method can also be used with different-coloured yarns to create barber-pole type stripes - spiral-tastic!

This is my first attempt at a quasi-tutorial, so please do comment if there's anything not clear. Happy alternating!

Shooting From The Hip: Genoa 29/10/2010

The buses were on strike for almost all of today, so during the brief windows when a few were running they were overflowing with people, packed together in an intricate (and sometimes uncomfortably intimate) human tessellation that left little room for breathing let alone knitting. Elsewhere, I'd just walk, but Genoa is a murderously mountainous place, and the youth hostel sits right at the summit of one of its peaks. 

How about you, readers? Do you commute? Are you lucky enough to take a form of transport that allows you to knit/sew/sit down? I do hope you've all had lovely Fridays.

Shooting From The Hip: Genoa 28/10/2010

How could I do a series of photos from Italy without any food? It is everywhere, from artistically arranged confectionary in the windows of the pasticcerie, to the scent of cooking seeping out through cracks in shutters. Shops (and archives) routinely shut at 12.30 or 1 and open again at 3; no speedy sandwiches wolfed down at desks here. 

The thing is, I'm not always very good at taking advantage of all this bounty when I'm here all by myself. I tend to find a quiet place to perch and eat a little slice of pizza or focaccia, perhaps supplemented with some fruit if I feel I'm in danger of catching scurvy. I don't mind spending time on my own - in fact solitary exploring is one of my favourite things to do - but this has not so far extended to eating out. I have always been foolishly fearful of asking for a table for one.

This lunch, however, was different. Inspired in part by the sweet video below, which seems to be all over the craft blogs at the moment, and in part by the fact that it was just too darn cold to sit outside, I faced my fear, and went into a bustling restaurant. I didn't feel like a loser, no one gave me pitying looks, and I had an unbelievably delicious meal, pictured above. Definitely an experience I would repeat.