six and a half stitches

AFTER THE RAIN

At 5.30am this morning, Pia woke up crying. No. Make that painful [for us] whingey crying. At 4.30pm she was still going. That makes 11 hours of solid screaming and crying. About nothing, and everything, and about being tired, and over tired. Today, nothing was right for her. Whatever was done. Whatever was said. Whatever was made. Whatever was given. It was all wrong. On top of that she worked her way through the entire book of "How To Really Annoy Your Parents And Siblings". And she clonked her head while out playing, so she has a massive bruise on her head. She's been sick. I've been sick. I know we're all run down.

Sometime through the night Max woke crying. And continued to cry. Punctuated throughout the day with sleep as he lay sick and feverish. Sick crying I can deal with - I know that. I understand it. And I can usually make it go away. Max threw up all over the couch. So we've washed all the covers. Did I mention it's been raining today? And we don't have a dryer.  And he clonked his head on the stair bannister in mild excitement at one point, so he has a bruise too.

Sometime through the night one cat lugged [and I still can't work out how, or from where] someone's half decomposed lamb roast dinner carcass into the bedroom [it was the same size as her] and had a feast under our bed. So the furniture has been moved and the carpets foamed and cleaned. The room has aired. I hope.

Sometime through the day I've missed a deadline for a magazine submission which I'm really annoyed with. Just 20 minutes would have done it. 20 minutes which were not mine. I feel I've let people who believed in me down by not submitting.

Neither of the two adults in the house have enjoyed today. Neither of us have risen to the challenge and maintained smiles and positive attitudes. Voices have been raised. The noise has not stopped all day. And there have been adult tears. Now both children are in bed, we have both looked at each other and agreed this has been the worst day ever as parents. There has been juggling of every single person and aspect of today. The pushing and pulling of every emotion inside us has been relentless. And I am all too aware we have wonderful children who are actually quite calm and well behaved. But today was trying. At 4.30pm I took Pia out for another walk, right after the rain had stopped. I took my camera.

I needed to find something else to focus on. I needed to find little details which were beautiful. Which were joyful. Which gave me something to bring today alive. I found subtlety - elegance of colour, tone, texture, detail. I found doorknobs I walk past everyday, made magnificent by getting up close to them. I found puddles with birds and wires reflected in them, upside down, topsy turvy, a mirror of our own day. I found spring buds everywhere, and the scent of jasmine and magnolias followed me everywhere I walked, seeping over fences and trailing along footpaths. I was glad to see southern facing magnolias still in full bloom. Pia slept the whole time, quiet, and still.

For 50 minutes the world was mine.

HOLEY DECONSTRUCTIVISM

Like many, I sighed a huge sigh of relief when post modernism died. To be honest, at the time, I was tired of writing more essays about the playful interpretations of geomatric shapes, literal translations of form, and garish use of colour. Deconstruction was a fabulously decadent reinvestigation of culture, form, theory and use of material. But then minimalism came along - strong defined intricate details belying the apparent simplicity of result, parred back and essential. Minimalism shifted in turn towards something either far more rigorous and articulate, or more gentle and textural.

And I find now, I waver between numerous styles, and I wonder if that isn't somehow cheating. Should I be more rigorous in my approach, should I be more defined? Is a conglomeration of thought and style equal to it's own set of guiding principles....

There are certain themes, and processes which come back to be played with time and again with me. I have explored a few ideas with circles.holes.curves recently - in pockets and scarves, in some folding techniques that have yet to see the photographic day - and now in some knitting.

This is my deconstructivist piece - reinterpreting neatness and detail into something which is purely structure based - anarchy of stitches being let slid into ripped back ladders [] gaping holes tearing through and being reformed [] loose open weaves of linen married with unstructured stitches, each fold twist and overlap bare and exposed. Constriction and openess alongside each other. There's a rawness about this which I love - a natural rawness.

Pattern [] border edge of Cobweb Lace Stole, in Linnet Lightweight Linen. More photos [] at flickr

And unsurprisingly, it matches the cobwebs that I've been needing to remove from the cornices for the last week...

I HAVE WOVEN

I have woven molten metal [] to form branches and roots and tangled vines of thought, stitch, words, and time. I have fixed in place [] wide angles and solidity against metal shards in the form of buttons. I have created [] a piece of warmth, of shelter against wind, of squishy kindness, of soft wool envelope: a cowl, a scarf, a wrap.

And it is beautiful and warm.

MOVING TOWARDS WHITE

Oh I have really enjoyed hearing how everyone stores and organises their fabric! I've always felt somehow that whatever I was doing was intrinsically wrong....because of course there is a wrong and a right way of doing it...but I am heartened to know the 'throw it in and see where it lands neatly' approach does appeal to some out there. My organisation is haphazard, and fluidly organic. I tend to do situation organisation - piles of fabric that go together for colour, or texture or project, or just because I like the look of a particular pile of fabric on a particular day, and then it gets moved to a box or - I can say this now - the chest of drawers [don't be fooled, there are still many, many boxes]. Wool tends to be on a favourite basis - whatever is capturing my imagination in any 6 month stretch, but I know needs a bit more rigour.

My room is looking so much brighter and cleaner and it's slowly coming together. I took down all the pictures so I could start again on the walls as well. Just a few more things to clean, like the lampshade above which needs a good dusting, and some piles of paper which need sorting. I have a pile of japanese craft books I want to sell, so over the next few weeks I'll photograph them and see how best to deal with that. I can now walk between this room and the children's room and feel much calmer about this little house, which gets over run with toys and miscellaneous excrament far too quickly, and far too often. Next up - our bedroom which has become the new dumping ground...

In my clearing haste though, I didn't factor in a technical hitch which saw all the items in the shop be delisted. What is left has been relisted at greatly reduced prices. I would love them to go to good homes, because they are incredibly beautiful and wearable pieces. And I am now moving all my patterns across to Ravelry for sale. Full information will be on the pattern site when I have completed the move including information on support for previously purchased patterns and how to purchase if you're not part of Ravelry.

SIMPLE CLEAN

Cleaning is good. Cleaning is excellent. So is clearing. Add sorting and organising to the equation as well. Very productive. Despite the chaos I live amongst, I love clean lines. Simple clean lines. I long for a house with those same lines. I long for long open rooms with white walls, clean furniture, and key elements displayed. Until my children grow up and we hire a skip to take away years of accumulated 'stuff', I live through clean lines of photographs, and simple vignettes.

This weekend I cleared out the children's room - cleared away toys not being used, or broken, or without a real play need (you know the ones) and suddenly the room is bigger, crisper. So I filled it back up with furniture which was supposed to be in there, but had been living in the living room until I cleared. There's always a knock on effect with clearing isn't there. The result of that is that I ended up having one complete chest of drawers (clean, simple, white drawers) standing there empty.

Over the last few weeks I have been clearing, and sorting, and cleaning my sewing room. It's a mammoth task in a tiny room. It's the dumping ground for the entire house, and so when it gets revolting in there, it really gets revolting. I have thrown, sorted, charitied and given away huge amounts of stuff. I now have room to lay out projects once again, gather piles again, and start some long put off projects. Despite the massive clear, I still have huge amounts of stuff.

Except now it's in a big white clean simple chest of drawers.

I'm really interested to know :: how do you sort your fabric and wool? As it comes out of the package/bag? By colour? By type? By brand?

In a final effort to clear, I have reduced the remaining items in my shop in a bid to empty it out and start again with new stock and new ideas.

MUFFINS FOR SOAKING

Pia and I are curled up on the couch, soaking up sun streaming through the windows, and she is hot, floppy, and sick, while I am wondering whether she'll let me knit, or blog, or sleep as well....a load of washing is soon to be hung to dry, and another put through, catching some of that sun to dry before dusk and the temperatures fall. We have baked muffins, mini ones and large ones [] delicious 'oat and apple streusel cakes' from Little cafe Cakes. And they are good, so good there are very few left....perhaps just one more left, for sitting in the sun with. Shhhhhhh - Pia is alseep -

- perhaps just one more -

- and I can knit -

A DAMN GOOD FROLICKING

I like a good frolick. Frolicking though, doesn't always fit into the tight time schedules demanded by school, life, dinner, anxiety and financial pressure. But when I do frolick, I frolick with abandon. And so I frolicked. I frolicked down laneways. I frolicked through cafes and through lattes and breakfasts. I frolicked with conversation, and enjoyed the frolicking conversations of others. I frolicked with wool - stacking and piling colour coordinated poems of colour and texture, of which only a small amount was destined for me. I frolicked with pieces of silver beaten thin and etched precisely with small patterns. I frolicked with metres of antique japanese kimono fabrics, and watched as others frolicked through racks, shelves and bins and found their own antique treasures. I frolicked with even more fabric in crisp whites and greys [lotta jansdotter] and truck loads of Liberty print. I frolicked myself out.

A years worth of frolicking in one weekend. Excellent.

HERE WE GO ROUND

What little things in our childhood do we remember? What is it that makes some things special to us, while others get left behind deep in our memories.

I remember picking blackberries from bushes growing by the side of the road. And picking strawberries from the small patch in the garden. I remember warm gooseberries [and custard] off a wild bush tucked near the back fence. And I remember wearing anything that had images of strawberries on it.

I want for my children similar idylls which can't be recreated because of geography, time, culture. Instead they will take with them memories of other things which will have just as much glorification. My boy will remember trains, perhaps, the open fire at his grandparents house, riding on tractors and maybe even billy cart races with his friends. My daughter will remember the idol of her older brother [let me dream], making sure dolly gets tucked up in bed properly, and perhaps even the overly extensive wardrobe her mother hand sewed and hand knitted.

I cannot seperate my desire to have played a part in the creation of their memories. I selfishly look to the things I make as holding the promise of memory. And for me, the joy in treading softly around knitwear patterns has been the desire to share a possible memory with many of you. I don't make for the sake of making - I do so because it invokes something terribly maternal, or terribly personal which may find resonance with others through stitches.

So here - to Mulberry Bush. A wonderful eclectic slightly retro capelet for a small child or baby. Warm and snuggly, but eminantly able to be worn while sliding, running, swinging, or playing quietly with toys. A graphic item, using woven panels to highlight assymetric collars and off set openings.

Something to pick berries with.