There is something I’m after, something ephemeral and richly patterned but discrete.
It’s there in the elegant forms of nature- somehow graceful AND endowed with a sense of humor, whimsy in a good sense. No mean feat.
I see it in feathers, insects, fish scales, snake skins, rocks and leaves and very rarely in art.
I keep circling round this theme with my knitting interests: the random frenetic electric stripping of my sweater below, the nautie pattern with its increasing built out form and these spider webs- the one from the park, and this one here from needle beetle patterns, by Liza Souza.
Ingenious yes, but not quite there yet.
I first started really wanting to knit having seen the books of Kaffe Fasset. I loved his fearless use of millions of colors and elaborate patterns and all photographed in lovely complex natural settings: among turning leaves and against lichen incrusted stone walls.
I too wanted to knit Turkish carpet designs and world maps and moss patterns!
I still do, though I’m not sure what to do with them exactly.
Clothing-wise I really do prefer spare, minimal and monochromatic garments.
The problem for me with Fasset’s patterns: while I adore looking at the books, I don’t actually WANT any of the sweaters- they are, for the most part, too bulky and unshaped for my short, pony-like frame. But it’s not just a question of flattering my body type: the structure of the garments lacked the wit and imagination of the patterns. I chose the sweater (the one shown below) because of its ingenious no-seams construction, and the way the garment works with the wearer. 1940’s patterns have a way of being thrifty, interestingly constructed and generous to women’s bodies all at the same time. This is what I care about from a fashion angle, and it does also make for interesting knitting- this is after all supposed to be a therapeutic activity.
So I began with complexly colored and textured bags and mitts and other accessories- rich extravagant things that look good with dark simple clothes.
Here are two of my bags ”Klimt” and “Diane”. Klimt was made using lots of needlepoint yarn, which comes in wonderful colors and is pure wool, something alarmingly difficult to find in England where I was living at the time. But they have all those sheep!
It’s there in the elegant forms of nature- somehow graceful AND endowed with a sense of humor, whimsy in a good sense. No mean feat.
I see it in feathers, insects, fish scales, snake skins, rocks and leaves and very rarely in art.
I keep circling round this theme with my knitting interests: the random frenetic electric stripping of my sweater below, the nautie pattern with its increasing built out form and these spider webs- the one from the park, and this one here from needle beetle patterns, by Liza Souza.
Ingenious yes, but not quite there yet.
I first started really wanting to knit having seen the books of Kaffe Fasset. I loved his fearless use of millions of colors and elaborate patterns and all photographed in lovely complex natural settings: among turning leaves and against lichen incrusted stone walls.
I too wanted to knit Turkish carpet designs and world maps and moss patterns!
I still do, though I’m not sure what to do with them exactly.
Clothing-wise I really do prefer spare, minimal and monochromatic garments.
The problem for me with Fasset’s patterns: while I adore looking at the books, I don’t actually WANT any of the sweaters- they are, for the most part, too bulky and unshaped for my short, pony-like frame. But it’s not just a question of flattering my body type: the structure of the garments lacked the wit and imagination of the patterns. I chose the sweater (the one shown below) because of its ingenious no-seams construction, and the way the garment works with the wearer. 1940’s patterns have a way of being thrifty, interestingly constructed and generous to women’s bodies all at the same time. This is what I care about from a fashion angle, and it does also make for interesting knitting- this is after all supposed to be a therapeutic activity.
So I began with complexly colored and textured bags and mitts and other accessories- rich extravagant things that look good with dark simple clothes.
Here are two of my bags ”Klimt” and “Diane”. Klimt was made using lots of needlepoint yarn, which comes in wonderful colors and is pure wool, something alarmingly difficult to find in England where I was living at the time. But they have all those sheep!
You say- I see them in the fields near the motorways…
Yes they do.
Yes they do.
What they do with the wool is a mystery, but it’s largely cheap nasty acrylic stuff in the UK LYS, sadly.
Diane was made shortly after, for a friend of that name who wears the colors shown- soft grays, browns and pinks. I played more with velvety textures here too, and lined it with some lovely oyster colored panne velvet from a pair of hand me down trousers that I wore to death but could not throw away.
Diane was made shortly after, for a friend of that name who wears the colors shown- soft grays, browns and pinks. I played more with velvety textures here too, and lined it with some lovely oyster colored panne velvet from a pair of hand me down trousers that I wore to death but could not throw away.
Klimt too has a recycled interior and fringe- a beautiful charcoal lamb’s wool sweater that accidentally found its way into the washing machine and became doll sized. I used the ribbing for fringe, cutting in between ribs and part of the body for the inside. The sleeves I still wear as, well, sleeves. As arm/wrist warmers- very practical actually. The pattern was based on one of Fasset’s designs which I modified. In homage to him I am also including these photos of Burgundian roof tiles. I was in Burgundy in June, near Dijon, and was delighted by the color, variation and daring of these roofs! Why are most roofs so darn dull? 
They really reminded me of knitting, and my bags and the kind of aesthetic spirit I’m after- I love the way they play with the geometric patterns one can so naturally make using repeated overlapped shapes.
Instead of looking shabby if the get a bit mossy and overgrown, or a vine takes over- 
they look even better for it- now that’s good design!
They really reminded me of knitting, and my bags and the kind of aesthetic spirit I’m after- I love the way they play with the geometric patterns one can so naturally make using repeated overlapped shapes.
Instead of looking shabby if the get a bit mossy and overgrown, or a vine takes over- 
they look even better for it- now that’s good design!
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