yarnstorm

urban knitter's survival kit

 

London, Paris, New York. When I a teenager these three place names together possessed an indefinable sophistication. They always came as a threesome and it was almost as if there was a place called Londonparisnewyork which reinforced just how limited my local town really was. They are now my favourite cities in the world, and I'd love to be able to visit any one at the drop of a hat.

I loved Thomas' survival kit (see post of June 18) and as I've been driving visitors around, cooking and making beds this week, I've enjoyed planning what I would put in my own kit in preparation for that hat dropping.

The boy version is aimed squarely at outdoor and country activities. Mmmm, that wasn't going to work for me. So mine had to contain what I would need as take-on luggage for that last-minute, first-class trip to London, Paris or New York. (The toothbrush goes in my pocket, of course.)

Mine would be the urban knitting & stitching, sweet-eating & wine-drinking, quilt-designing and toe-nail painting kit to see me through a stay at Claridges, le Crillon or The Carlyle.

I'd have a vintage transfer ready to embroider, silks and a needle. There'd be sock yarn and the colouring pencils (for designing quilts, sketching ideas and colouring in newspaper photos) could double as knitting needles. Work could be sewn up with the larger needle.

Should I stray too far from civilisation, I could always whittle my own knitting needles using Simon's Leatherman. Although this is a little on the large size, it would have to be included not only for its scissors and ruler, but also for the all-important corkscrew. I just wouldn't want to be caught out, although I am a great fan of screw-cap bottles for obvious reasons.

I'd have a piece of watercolour paper for notes and drawings, my business card because I'd need to be reminded of home, a few sweets to chew when I'm travelling around and a bottle of nail varnish because that's all a girl needs for a night out.

As I'm a metropolitan knitter, I'd need a pound, a two euro coin and a quarter (I'm hoping to strike it rich in New York...). I'd have a ticket for the metro, a map of the NY subway and a London train timetable, because I'm a knitter on the move. Add a stamp to send a postcard home, a hayfever tablet because I sneeze in summer and a torch to ensure I can operate day or night, and I'm all set to discover Londonparisnewyork.

All this fits, with room to spare for a crossword and a good article to read, in an old tobacco tin which measures 10 cm/4" wide, 8cm/3" long and 0.75"/2cm deep.

What would be your essentials?

not so great expectations

I find myself having to revise my expectations when embroidering. I am used to having knitting which grows, bread which rises, quilts which spread and tulips which expand. But the time:output ratio with this project is vastly different.

Admittedly, I'm not a speedy needle-wielder and I am really starting all over again (memories of schoolgirl wonky chain stitch still hurt), but even so I am startled by just how much time embroidery consumes. This is compounded by my choice of stitches. I love satin, stem, buttonhole, French knots and lazy daisies in particular, all of which are either fiddly or filling. I have a particular passion for satin stitch and I love running my finger over the smooth ridge it forms. But it requires patience, immense concentration and a good pair of glasses.

I've also been fussy so far about the colour choices and have already unpicked a fair amount because it wasn't right. I've been looking at my favourite pieces of embroidery for inspiration and guidance. This is the exuberantly bright and springlike tablecloth which was in the tea cosy photographs:

and I really admire the simple stitches and the restricted palette of this framed crinoline lady:

I've bought several embroidery books over the years and have consulted them again. (I went through a stitching phase about eight years ago when I made a couple of vegetable gardens). I find anything by Mary Thomas (traditional) or Mary Nordern (contemporary) excellent, and the out-of-print Country Living book Embroidery (1995) in the Needlework Collection is excellent.

Hand embroidery does afford the opportunity to indulge in some great role-playing. I can pretend I am an Austen heroine, blushing and not daring to raise my eyes from my work to look at my suitor, or a poor Victorian governess ruining my eyesight while my spoilt charges pull the wings off butterflies, or one of Mrs Gaskell's twittering Cranford ladies who can't decide which shade of dove-grey to select. I watched Notorious while sewing the other day and felt a peculiar alliance with Claude Rains' malevolent, controlling mother who keeps stitching while she slowly poisons poor Ingrid Bergman.* There's a lot more to a hoop, needle and thread than meets the eye.**

*Obviously, one has to stop stitching when Cary Grant is on the screen; he could play havoc with one's French knots.

**If you want to get serious, read The Subversive Stitch: Embroidery and the Making of the Feminine (1985) by Rozsika Parker.

gentle readers and gentle arts

'At the End of the Porch' (1918)  John Sharman

If Charlotte Bronte had written a blog she wouldn't have been shy about addressing her readers directly. After all, this is the writer who broke with convention in Jane Eyre and used the word 'reader' (as in 'Reader, I married him' - most marvellous of phrases) no fewer than thirty times.

I don't do this too often. But today, gentle readers, I make an exception. And the reason is to express, once again, my thanks for all your excellent comments and emails and suggestions. I was explaining only last night to Simon the academic meaning of the word 'discourse', and today it occurs to me that we have a distinct and meaningful discourse going on here. I am hugely appreciative of everyone who takes the time to use the comments box and checking the blog is always great fun.

So THANK YOU.

One such generous reader is Ingrid. Ingrid contacted me recently to ask if I would like some old women's magazines she was happy to give away. Would I indeed? She very kindly sent me some copies of The Needlewoman from the 1930s and they are totally wonderful. Packed with everything a gentlewoman could possibly want to make. From quilted, satin eiderdowns to thatched cottage embroidered place mats, from scuttle shape crocheted hats to delicately hand-stitched lingerie. It's Thrift to Fantasy come to life.

I wondered briefly if I'd been born in the wrong decade, but I don't really think so (hell, there was no Green & Black's Butterscotch chocolate in the 30s). But I did realise that it was about time I had a go at making a 30s style textile.

I am duty bound to confess now that I've been buying a few old embroidery transfers on eBay recently and, having read the copies of The Needlewoman which used to give away these transfers, I thought I should actually use one. So I ironed a very simple, classic design onto some linen and started to embroider last night.

I make absolutely no claim to being proficient in the gentle arts (I've already had a Snow White moment and had to get blood off the linen), but that's not the point. I've had my vintage tablecloths out to see what previous generations did and my respect and admiration for their ingenuity and expertise is growing apace. There will be slow and painful progress on my part, plus a plenty of revision of what I was taught at school in ghastly needlework lessons. All I need now is a beautiful porch like the one in the painting in which to be gentle.

floreal

It is now Floreal, the eighth month of the French revolutionary calendar, the month of flowers which runs from around 20 April to 20 May. And my garden has timed its annual eruption perfectly. Although we've already had hellebores and crocuses, it's only now that I'm noticing the huge changes that are taking place. We have quince and plum blossom, camellias and primulas, maple and beech buds. But mostly we have daffodils and tulips. It's looking wonderful.

I brought in some 'Woodstock' hyacinths today. These are the only ones I plant and I love their deep, beetroot colour and great fragrance. I think hyacinths look spectacular in bowls, but somehow forget to plant them most years. I bought the tablecloth below as a pretty substitute; it makes me think of Jan Struther's Mrs Miniver who would no doubt have done her bulb bowls every year.

The tulip 'Ivory Floradale' comes up every year with its huge, ostrich egg type flowers. It's a pale, creamy yellow when closed,

and this is what happens after a couple of hours on a warm windowsill.

There are some flowers I can't cut, like the snakeshead fritillary (fritillaria meleagris), as they belong in the garden only. You need to get down on your hands and knees to appreciate its amazing chequered, patchwork effect.

And these 'Zurel' tulips are in an old, stone trough and it would ruin the picturesque, massed raspberry ripple effect if I cut any.

I reckon we should reinstate Floreal on the calendar.

the game of the name

'Chips, eggs and peas, please'  (7.5cm x 5.8cam / 3" x 2.5")

Did I mention the great birth announcements in The Times I saw a while ago? A daughter Leonora Button, sister to Avery Bean. Then there was Herbie Angelo on the same day as Hector Otto.

And we thought Phoebe was pretty daring. We should have gone for something like Phoebe Chocolate Button or Phoebe Bouncing Bean or Phoebe Sunshine, not Phoebe Kate. Thomas & Alice could have been Thomas Rhone and Alice Chardonnay (I was in the wine trade then), or Thomas Tiger and Alice Aardvark. Instead, they are Thomas James and Alice Josephine. I feel that maybe we didn't consider the full range of options open to us as parents. Mind you, when you start with a name like Jane, it's a long, long way to Leonora Button.

divine pinkness

We are having a pink day. Phoebe has a friend staying with her and they have been caught up in a maelstrom of creativity. They started off by knitting and discussing what they would do in the following 27 hours, and have since worked their way through just about every messy activity you can think of. And it's mostly been pink.

The friend brought her pink luggage - a little beaded, felt bag Phoebe had made for her last week.

(With Phoebe's pink label inside.)

Last night they both wore pink pyjamas and then changed this morning into pink tops ready to create pink cakes (above) with Play-Doh.

We made a pretty pink marshmallow heart which they decorated with pink sequins, pink eyes and pink ribbon.

Phoebe's friend made a pink mask, although I get the feeling that she'd be recognised in it. The pink might just give away her identity.

And I have my own little piece of divine pinkness which arrived from the lovely, talented Alicia. Thank you, Alicia. It's beautiful and very special.

collections

 

I watched Amelie for the first time this weekend. I missed it when it on general release and finally bought it as a cheap DVD. It is worth every penny and more. It is one of the most visually arresting films I've ever seen, and I actually found it really difficult to knit while watching, as every scene demands total visual concentration. The colours are almost cartoonish and hyper-real, and the sets are unbelievably detailed and fabulous. The director makes a fruit & veg stall a work of art and the railways stations of Paris never looked so lovely.

It's also very funny, and the strange characters are endearing rather than disturbing. Everyone has manic or obsessive tendencies and many are collectors. Of proverbs, discarded photos, endives, copies of a Renoir painting. These quirky details accumulate and build up to make quite beautiful, if apparently meaningless, collections.

It made me think about my own collecting tendencies, especially as I'd just read Alicia's delightful post of March 15 about a group of button collectors. I always wanted to be a great amasser of objects, and as a child I had trolls and a few books but not a great deal more. In fact, I've never fulfilled my collecting ambitions, mainly because I am terrified of feeling compelled to spend any spare cash on growing a collection purely for the sake of owning objects, and partly because I run out of steam quite quickly and my magpie instincts are distracted by some new whim. Also, I am loath to keep special things locked away, and much prefer to be able to use any small collections I do have.

Last year I bought a number of tablecloths featuring crinoline ladies. Completely unfashionable and yet totally seductive. I scoured market town flea-markets when on holiday, friends found others, and the rest I bought on eBay. I had a strict budget and I only wanted hand-embroidered, natural fabrics. Before long, I had a great little collection of beautifully embroidered items which didn't cost a fortune.

The crinoline lady is a 1930s icon. She was everywhere; on textiles, tea-pots and tea-cosies, book & magazine covers. I know it's all highly stylised and ridiculously escapist, but I am fascinated by the fact that so many women bought transfers of this design and sat and embroidered a lady who is really only good for picking flowers and looking pretty during their breaks from the mangle and cleaning the lino kitchen floor.

Transfers also came free with women's magazines, and once I'd started looking, I found several pieces with the same design (one or two designs seem to have been incredibly popular). The ones in the photos are all the same, basic outline (my favourite design), but done by different embroiderers. They are all expertly sewn, but each maker has interpreted the lines, stitches and colours quite differently.

The top two are from the same cloth. They are done by someone who clearly wasn't afraid of bold colour combinations and setting thickly embroidered sections next to simple lines. You can just see in the second photo that the lady is unfinished. I bought the cloth knowing it was not completed, because I had never seen anything as unusual and modern as this.

This lady is on a textured cotton background and in a very different, restricted palette. All four ladies in the corners are the same. The cloth is much smaller than the others, so the embroiderer chose wisely when leaving much of the design open.

The one below has very different stitching (look at the hollyhocks), and I love the sash on her dress.

And, finally, this cloth is much more traditional in the choice of colours. This lady is far more shy & retiring and the lines are less flowing and elegant; I like to think the bolder crinoline ladies above somehow reflect their makers who appear to have been more Scarlett O'Hara than Melanie Hamilton.

Crinoline lady embroidery was despised by 'art' embroiderers as dull and lifeless and a waste of good skills. But these dainty designs remind you just how few people can embroider beautifully these days. Like all frivolous collections, they really are worth preserving.

whip up & round up

Local news: the backing fabric for the Dorothy quilt has finally arrived from the US, so I can now finish it. It's a Dorothy/Kansas theme because of the wheat and cornfield yellows and the wide, open, sky blues in the fabrics which make me think of a state like Kansas. The Dorothy bit comes with the Amy Butler fabric for the back which is, to my mind, what Dorothy's next dress would have been made from.

International news: February 1st is the launch date for whip up, an exciting new, collaborative blog. It's been set up by the indefatigable Kath at redcurrent who has not only done all the practical, behind-the-scenes work, but also the thinking behind the site's philosophy of the possibilities for great and small acts of creativity in a modern, manufactured world. Take a look and show your support. There is a great list of contributors and I'm delighted to part of it.

And the rest: Kath is also brilliant at giving great links. Shamed by her, I thought it was about time I shared some of my latest discoveries, even though the thought of writing a post full of links fills me with dread as I am seriously subnormal when it comes to this sort of thing.

Franklin at The Panopticon writes superbly on knitting and a great deal else. His short essays on manners are wonderful and his review of Brokeback Mountain (20 Dec 2005) is excellent.

I am really enjoying Liz's series on colour at athenadreams. As Liz Kalloch, she is a talented artist with a very healthy perception of artists' own follies and foibles. There are links on her site to her wonderful creations.

Adriana set up Cotton Strudel quite recently, and it's a lovely blog, filled with light, great photos and pretty craft projects.

Show & Tell has become a must-read, too. Excellent photos, good writing, wonderful vintage stuff and a peek into the world of printing.

Turkey Feathers always has lots to look at. Vicki is clearly a woman of many talents and her blog is a delight.

I'd love to visit Alicia's shop, but will have to make do with her blog, Posie Gets Cozy. She has an eye for seeking out the things she loves, and I applaud her devotion to her personal style.

Anna at twelve22 used to come to our Foyles knititng group, but hasn't been for a while (hello, Anna). I've just rediscovered her blog with its great photos and food and creations - and an American's wry perspective on living in London.

bara+design is a beautiful blog with thoughtful writing. Unfortunately, Eireann is having real problems with plagiarism at the moment, an issue which is becoming more and more common, and it's hard to know how to deal with it.

I have also recently strayed into the realm of food blogs. But links to my favourite sites will have to wait until another day. I need a cup of tea and to restore my faith in technology as several of the links I thought I'd so cleverly included failed to work. I can comfort myself with the knowledge that only I know which ones these were. Ha.

la broderie

 

I had a lovely surprise at the weekend. I received the latest issue of Selvedge and noticed that they were giving away six copies of the DVD of Brodeuses (released as A Common Thread in English). I'd read a couple of reviews of this film last year when it was shown at various film festivals and it sounded excellent. It never came to London (as far as I know) and I thought I'd missed it forever. Anyway, I phoned Selvedge, told them I was entering my name for a free DVD and the very next day one turned up in the post. Alice, who phones magazines regularly and wins curling tongs even though she has curly hair, was suitably impressed.

The film is very beautifully shot and it would seem that the whole thing, from landscape to clothing, is co-ordinated to go with the heroine's amazing head of auburn hair. The embroidery in question is exquisite stuff for couture houses and contrasts vividly with the cabbages in the fields (very beautiful cabbages in very richly coloured fields) and the unfolding story of an unwanted pregnancy.  Embroidery forms a creative counterpoint to, and escape from, harsh rural life and is the basis of the redeeming, female relationship at the core of the film. It's well worth watching. Gentle, unshowy and touching and starring some wonderful embroidery.

When we came back to England in the late 90s I decided to learn to embroider. I had a couple of lessons at the Royal School of Needlework which was so unutterably refined and correct that I didn't last long. So I found some books and had a go on my own. I wasn't ready to do anything wild with my French knots so I embroidered a couple of gardens to practice my stitches. It's not exactly what the Lacroix models are wearing this year, but I still look at these framed pieces with affection and not a little surprise that it was me who patiently embroidered them.

 

hamster quilt

 

I am into compounded displacement activity today.

I had planned to take Phoebe to the Foyles knitting group (thus avoiding wrapping presents), but she really didn't feel like it this morning. So I decided to stay and wrap, but reckoned I could just finish cutting quilt fabric before the main job. And then it seemed like a good idea to lay out the fabrics and this required the help of Thomas, my quilt style consultant.

Before you could say 'Kaffe Fassett', he'd decided to take the spare pieces and put them together for his own quilt.* As he and the other two like to cuddle the hamster on their knees in one of the big quilts, he designed his as a small 'hamster quilt'.

So I ended up making a quilt measuring 20"/51cm x 28"/72cm from start to finish. Cut, pinned, sewn, sandwiched, pinned, hand-quilted, bound and hand-finished in four hours - with assistance from my boy helper. It looks great thanks to his ingenuity with fabric, and Hugo looks very much at home encased in it.

What a shame I can't do the wrapping this evening as we've booked to go ice-skating again.

*Both the hamster quilt and my bigger version (the 'guinea pig quilt'?) are based on the Wallpaper Strips Quilt in Kaffe Fassett's Quilt Road.