You have to respect cables. They demand respect. Not in the same way that an intricate lace pattern commands respect, but in that utter life cycle ritual of knitting through the ages kind of way. There is something captivating about the urgency of wrapping and weaving tubular currents leading upward, outward, entwining around. Something grounding in all that - from and of the earth so to speak. Cables used to be stories of celtic history, interwoven stories of family history, lineage [how utterly appropriate] and relationships, and I think you can't help but acknowledge that as you turn each cable.
And let's not forget the texture - that nobbly 3 dimensionality, squishy and proud at the same time. It begs to be traced with fingers, begs to be intertwined even more as it wraps around your neck....wonderful Olga for thinking through this pattern of folding and entwining cables both as a textured pattern and a way of being worn.
Returning to celtic origins though, I am struck by the metallic 'elemental' nature of this purely based on the small collections of things that keep working alongside this project - if I take this notion of being from and of the earth, and understanding that metal is elemental - hard, yet malleable and pliable, born of rocks and molten elements within the ground. Fitting then that the wool is colour 'granite', matches a rough earthenware bowl in a dark black glaze that keeps me company most days (usually with snacks in it to nibble while knitting. One must always have good snacks) and works in tremendously with metal buttons picked up last week for something entirely different. Molding the knitted fabric to contort, ease, and wind. Bit like jewellry making. Exactly how many concepts can I get in one post I wonder. But it's that idea of primal pattern making, drawing on nature, weaving a story of it's own through texture which really excites me and makes the meticulous charting of stitch and cable so much more deliberate, so much more alive.