Urban Legends of Knitting No. 2

EZ Photo: T.S. Zimmermann

Franklin Goes West

I'm knitting and writing about fourteen hours a day right now, finishing up as much work as possible before I take off for what is turning out to be quite a nice little tour of the West Coast. Here are the details:

Seattle, Washington

Sept. 20, 2010: Two events at The Fiber Gallery (7000 Greenwood Avenue North). From 5 pm–6 pm: book/calendar signing. From 6 pm–9 pm, "Photographing Your Fiber." To register for the photography class, call (206) 706-4197.

Sept. 22, 2010: "Introduction to the History, Methods, and Styles of Lace Knitting" at The Weaving Works (4717 Brooklyn Avenue NE); call (206) 524-1221 for information and reservations.

Eureka, California

A whole weekend at the wonderful Northcoast Knittery (320 Second St, Ste. 1A).

Saturday, Sept. 25: "Introduction to the History, Methods and Styles of Lace Knitting" 11 am–2 pm and "Lace Edgings: Before, During and After" from 3 pm–6 pm.

Book and calendar signing to follow!

Sunday, Sept. 26: "Photographing Your Fiber" from 11 am–2 pm.

For information and to register for classes, call (707) 442-YARN (9276).

Knitting Camp Bulletin

I'm at Meg Swansen's Knitting Camp, watching a parade of projects that will be included in an upcoming book from Schoolhouse Press of revisited and new Elizabeth Zimmermann designs in garter stitch, many of which have been drawn from previously unpublished notes and sketches.

Incredible sideways gloves. A chic biased garter stitch pullover. Little slippers with curled Turkish toes. Piece after piece after piece after piece and they're not done yet.

I will beg Meg for permission to post a few pictures. For the moment, this is all I can show you:

Scorsese to Direct 4-D Biopic of Visionary Knitter

Hollywood, CA. Oscar-winning director Martin Scorsese today confirmed rumors that he will direct Triumph of the Wool, the long-awaited cinematic treatment of the epic life of Elizabeth Zimmermann, a British-born knitter whose pioneering work liberated millions from the tyranny of the printed pattern.

“It’s a no-brainer,” said Scorsese. “My work has always celebrated the underdog and the rebel. Elizabeth didn’t take no shit from nobody. That’s my kinda woman.”

The Fourth Dimension

The director was tight-lipped about specific details, but insiders hint that George Lucas’s Industrial Light and Magic has been tapped to supervise CGI fantasy sequences dramatizing the creation of Zimmermann’s mind-bending Baby Surprise Jacket and other signature designs.

Triumph of the Wool would, indeed, be a logical debut vehicle for the company's much-anticipated "AranVision" 4-D technology, which will allow moviegoers to reach out and fondle on-screen yarns and handknits.

Glittering Cast

The A-list cast will include Dolores Van Hoofen, legendary cabaret singer and noted fashionista, in the central role of Elizabeth from her early teenage years onward.

Van Hoofen, speaking poolside at the Bel Air Hotel, pronounced herself “honored as all hell” to be cast and very much looking forward to a reunion with Scorsese, who last teamed with her to produce the unreleased Gangs of Rhinebeck. (Rumors of an on-set affair have been pooh-poohed by both parties.)

No Van Hoofen? Fuggedabouddit!

Scorsese admitted Van Hoofen was the only actress under serious consideration for the role. “Who the fuck else is there right now? Miley fucking Cyrus? Fuggedabouddit. Without DoDo,” he admitted, using his pet name for the notoriously temperamental star, “there is no picture. And check out that great caboose.”

Also to appear are Viggo Mortensen (The Lord of the Rings) as Zimmermann’s husband, Arnold; Lily Tomlin as Barbara Walker; and Meryl Streep (Death Becomes Her, Mamma Mia!) as Zimmermann’s daughter and heir to the company throne, Meg Swansen. (Streep reportedly went into seclusion at her chalet in St Moritz shortly after this year’s Oscars to work on her pronunciation of words like "entrelac" and "antepenultimate.")

Location shooting is slated to begin in Munich and Marshfield, Wisconsin in late spring, with an anticipated release to IMAX theaters in time for Christmas 2012.

Proud Son

Yesterday was Mother's Day, and all across the country mothers were getting things–flowers, cards, telephone calls–from their children. My own, dear mother deserves her own island in the Caribbean, a pony and a chocolate fountain; but since I didn't want to embarrass her with extravagance I just sent flowers.

She sent me something, too, and I want to share it with you.

First, a bit of background.


Mom and one-day-old Susan.
Susan just celebrated her own first Mother's Day.

My mother is a can-do sort of woman. If she wants to excel at something, she will. She did not, for example, learn to sew at her mother's knee. As a young wife, she decided sewing would be a useful skill. She got a sewing machine, took a class, and turned into the second coming of Betsy Ross. We reveled in an abundance of expertly hand-sewn clothes, gorgeous Halloween costumes, perfectly tailored school uniforms and matching family Christmas pajamas.

She also learned from a friend how to knit. Aside from an occasional afghan, however, this was a skill that lay dormant for years. The first time I ever saw her do it was Christmas 2005, when our incessant chatter about the joys of yarnplay persuaded her to join the fun. Her powers of recall were startling. We gave her a pair of needles and a gentle nudge, and soon she'd turned out several very nice scarves and a few patterned washcloths.

Then she decided it was time to try a shaped garment. She picked a doozy–Elizabeth Zimmermann's Baby Surprise Jacket. In case you've been knitting in a cave, the Baby Surprise Jacket (which you can find in The Opinionated Knitter and Knitting Workshop) is a little cardigan sweater that's knit as one flat piece, folded up like origami and seamed at the shoulders. It's a classic pattern and a fun project, but not always an easy knit for a beginner.

My mother, however, does not care about easy. She wanted to knit the jacket. She got the yarn, the needles, the pattern and Meg Swansen's instructional DVD, and off she went. And look at this.



Not only did she finish, she worked in a bunch of Meg's fine details including paired increases and decreases, a collar, and a cast off that eliminates the little dog-ear at the very end.



I'm choking up just looking at that. How you've grown, mother darling. There's a Rogue Hoodie in your future. I just know it.

Practical Magic

It still needs a tassel on the hood (my mother's excellent suggestion) and a zipper in front, but for all intents and purposes the knitting of Abigail's Tomten Jacket to be found in (Knitting Without Tears, Knitting Workshop and The Opinionated Knitter) is complete.

As Houdini was wont to say, "Ta-daaaaa."



This was my first waltz with the pattern and it won't be the last. It's 100% pure Elizabeth Zimmermann: clever, useful, adaptable, addictive. As with most of her designs, variations are numberless and I humbly add mine, with all its flaws and fudges, to the pile.



Ages ago I promised a demonstration of the garter stitch jacquard technique and am now renewing that promise, although I won't get to it this week. I have so many deadlines to meet that I dare not contemplate them in aggregate or they'll drive me straight to the fainting couch with a bottle of sal volatile.

I can promise that blog posts will be thin on the ground this month, but don't forget me. I'll be back.

It's a Knitter's Prerogative to Change His Mind

Have you ever started a project that absolutely should have worked, and then didn't? It just happened to me with the lacy Elizabeth Zimmermann baby sweater I'd started for Abigail, from the February chapter of Knitter's Almanac.

It wasn't the fault of the pattern. The pattern is delicious, classic Elizabeth. It starts out odd, turns strange and grows positively bizarre before what's coming off the needles finally reveals itself to be cleverly constructed and beguiling.

Neither was it the fault of the yarn: Jo Sharp DK left over from my Seneca Sweater and left over again from Abigail's Dragonfly Kimono. Susan loved the fabric in the latter, so I felt another little bijou in the same yarn would be a surefire hit. It's soft, lightweight, and firmly spun–it ought to show off simple lace to perfection.

In theory, perfect. In practice, more like a blind date where the two parties seem like a perfect match because they both love opera; but then one of them turns out to be a die-hard Wagnerian and the other one has a thing for Rossini and even before the salads arrive the waitstaff have to wrestle the butter knives away from them.*

So I frogged it just after I finished half an arm, rewound the yarn and let it sit. And then one morning, I woke up with an unaccountable urge to knit a sweater with cut steeks. Aside from a brief lesson on a swatch at Knitting Camp two years ago, I haven't climbed that hill.

By the time I got out of bed I'd decided that if Abigail could talk, she'd ask politely for a traditional Norwegian pullover, and by happy chance traditional Norwegian pullovers have steeked armholes. How could I say no?

So I picked up some coordinating yarn (Berroco Ultra Alpaca Light) at Arcadia Knitting and set off, with Elizabeth and Meg Swansen (via the Knitting Around book and video) as my sherpas.

It was extremely pleasant to zoom around the lower body, using both colors to create the tradition "lus" (lice) dotted pattern,



meanwhile daydreaming about what to put on the chest and shoulders. I've finished it now, and for a first attempt I think it will suit. The fabric is very slightly puckery, but I took care to strand the floats loosely across the back of the work and expect that a good wet blocking will smooth everything out.



Next, the sleeves. And then...the cutting. Yeehaw, baby.

This is why I knit, dudes. Adrenaline. Pure adrenaline.

*Based on a true story.

A Change of Scene

I knew this was going to happen.

There's a Fibertarians meeting tonight at the apartment–specifically, I believe, a gathering of the Committee to Elect Dolores Van Hoofen–and it was made clear early this morning that my presence would be considered de trop.

It's okay, really. I needed some fresh air and a change of scene. The view from my desk has been nothing but gloom for more than a week. Of course, from my seat in the coffee shop I'm still looking at snow falling horizontally, but at least it's different snow. Quite a bit of it, too. I don't know that it counts as a blizzard, but it's enough to have made the stroll over put me in mind of Doctor Zhivago. If only I'd thought to put a balalaika playlist on my iPod.

This is a maiden voyage for the new laptop from which I write. I decided at last to buy one so that when I'm traveling I can still write (I'm working, Anne! I'm working!) and keep up with business. And let me tell you, by the way, that there's nothing like investing in a gut-punchingly expensive piece of computer equipment to make a guy feel the need to produce.

Of course, the downside is that I have now officially become one of Those People. I used to sit in this very chair and knit while everyone around me worked, or pretended to. I felt quite smug being the sole unplugged person in the room.

Not that I haven't brought knitting with me. I have. Here it is.



It's Tom's watch cap. Still not much to look at in a photograph, I know, but in person it's become a delightfully squishy piece of fabric to touch.

My thanks to all of you who offered advice on sources of instruction for working the stitch (Prime Rib, aka brioche) in the round. As it happens, I'd settled on working the hat flat after swatching both methods. Circular brioche wasn't difficult; I have excellent instructions thanks to a Meg Swansen handout from Knitting Camp. It came down to personal taste. For me, brioche in the round just didn't have the same carefree, same-every-row appeal.

As for the seaming, I confess (forgive me, Elizabeth) that I don't mind it. The more seams I work, the more I enjoy them. The process is almost magical, much like Kitchener stitch. You have two edges, and then, Presto! You have no edges. It thrills me. When I finished sewing up Abigail's kimono I felt like taking a bow. And as there was nobody watching me, I did.

I admit it also intrigues me to be working ribbing, real ribbing that snaps back with a satisfying boing, entirely without purl stitches. When I have finished the hat, I shall doff it in memory of the forgotten knitter who invented this stuff.

On the subject of hats and Zimmermann/Swansen genius, did you know Meg's doing knit-alongs over at the Schoolhouse Press Web site? She started with a Christmas stocking, and right now there's a two-parter devoted to a conch shell hat. Check it out. A person can never have too much Meg.

Bear Shoot

What is a boy raised in the tropics to do when he's freezing to death in the midst of a nasty, chilly Chicago January?

Why, go north to Michigan, that's what!

(It made sense at the time. Never answer your e-mail when you've been dipping into a bottle of champagne left over from New Year's Eve.)

But a promise is a promise, and I want so much to meet you folks over there on the other side of the lake; so there's going to be a 1,000 Knitters shoot at the one-and-only Threadbear Fiber Arts Studio in Lansing, Michigan on Saturday, January 26 from 10 am to 5:30 pm.

The usual guidelines apply: no advance registration, etcetera. If you're not familiar with how it all works, please take a look before you come on over.

On the other hand, a trip to the Frostbite Belt is a fun excuse to wear my new Maltese Fisherman's Hat from Knitter's Almanac.

I was lucky enough to spend one perfect day in Malta, two summers ago on a university tour. We docked in Valletta, the capital, and I ditched the sightseeing excursion. Rather than be stuck on a bus, I wandered at whim up and down (mostly up, it seemed at the time) streets like these.







Needless to say, I fell in love with the place. The memory still haunts me. I hope to go back some day.

I kept an eye out for fishermen wearing anything that looked like Elizabeth Zimmermann's famously offbeat design. But it was June, and not weather for wool, so I can't say from personal experience that any self-respecting Maltese would be caught dead wearing one of these.



Right. It's not exactly...sedate. But I love it. Look at the adorable ear flaps. Flap, flap.



They cover the neck, too. And my swanlike neck is terribly, terribly sensitive to frosty winter draughts, don't you know.



And then as lagniappe in addition to all that function, you get a pointy top with a tassel!

I made out of Malabrigo Chunky that I picked up at ImagiKnit, so it's all squishy and soft like a kitten. Of course, I'd never wear a kitten on my head. That would be silly. But this?



Oh, yeah. Smooth, baby. Smooth.

Christmas Knitting 2007 Further Revealed!

Back again, with the second of this year's two Christmas presents. Can you believe it? Months without a stitch of actual knitting in this so-called knitting blog and then BLAM! KAPOW! you get two finished objects in two days.

It's sort of like when you go through a long dry spell in the romance department, and no matter where you hang out–dance clubs, yarn stores, online chat rooms, church socials, estate sales, Home Depot–nobody notices you; and then you meet one nice person you like, and suddenly you can't even walk to the fridge without twenty guys trying to pinch your bottom.

Yeah, it's sort of like that.

What was I talking about?

Christmas presents. Yes. This is what I made for my Exceptional Niece Abigail® for her first extra-uterine Christmas: the Sheep in the Meadow Baby Jacket.



Guess how I came up with the name. Go ahead, guess. Here's a hint.





I'm rambling. Let's make this nice and neat.

Project: Sheep in the Meadow Baby Jacket

Yarns: Cascade Sierra (yellow, green, and white) and Berocco Pure Merino (lavender)

Needle: US size 5 or 7 or something plus a couple of dpns in a size or two smaller

Process: I was lying down one night in June reading The Elements of Typographic Style when a ghostly figure (it was either the Angel Gabriel or Jacob Marley–I forget which) appeared at the foot of the bed and said, "Go thou, pick up thy needles and make a sweater with a little sheep on it."

No, wait. I just remembered. It was Ziggy Marley.

Anyhow, I picked up the notebook I keep next to the bed for jotting down cartoon ideas and the names of people I'd like to have shot, and I wrote "sheep sweater little" and went back to reading about the origins of the serif and forgot the whole thing.

Wait, no. I think was wrong again. It wasn't Ziggy Marley, it was just Ziggy.

What was I talking about?

Right. So four months later I was in Sacramento for the 1000 Knitters shoot with the Camellia City Stockinettes. At Babetta's Yarn and Gifts the whole scene came back in a flash. In about fifteen minuntes I selected and purchased all the yarn.

When I got home, I put the yarn into the stash cupboard and forgot about it again for another month or so.

Then I dimly recall some hurried winding, and swatching, and sketching. I had in mind a very blocky, geometric shape along the lines of Elizabeth Zimmerman's Bog Jacket. I wanted an open front with simple I-cord ties because those features had earned the Tulip Jacket rave reviews and almost daily use until Abigail finally outgrew it.

With the intended recipient 900 miles away and sprouting like a weed, I had to make educated guesses about proportions and sizing. I used the helpful project measurements in Knitting for Baby to determine arm length and such for a kid aged nine to twelve months.

Then some frantic knitting at home, in the taxi to the airport, at the airport, on the plane, and in Maine in the office in the barn. I finished it on Christmas Eve.



It's a good thing I can't get pregnant or the baby would be seven years old before I got around to delivering it.

Fun Stuff: Such complexity as exists in this otherwise simple piece is centered on the breast pocket, and even that's pretty simple.

The jacket was an excuse/opportunity to try out an Elizabeth Zimmermann afterthought pocket for the first time.

Afterthought pockets are just what the name suggests. You knit the garment, and afterwards you decide that you want a pocket here, or pockets here and here (or even here–it's up to you). You snip with your scissors at the center of the row where you want the pocket to be, and that's how it begins.

For full details, you can check out the Knitting Glossary DVD from Schoolhouse Press or from Elizabeth's book Knitting Around. I used both. And let me tell you: if you want to feel like a rock star knitter, stick an afterthought pocket into something. It gives you the same sort of high that comes from lace blocking, steek cutting or turning a sock heel.

On the whole, I'm pleased. There are some small details I'd change next time (such as deeper sleeves). But you know what? It fit. And if you ask me, it ain't 'alf cute.

And it's much more appropriate than Auntie Dolores's gift.

I'll tell you later.