Tropical Island socks/ Socks of Many Techniques

I'm on a massive handspun kick right now. I'm not even going to tell you about all the Etsy goodness wending its way towards me right now. I 'destashed' recently, only to replace it all with handspun! Anyway, that's some handspun sockyarn I bought from DivineBird, 'Leapyear' colourway. I loved the colours. It's a very fine sockyarn - drops down to laceweight in parts - and a little overspun (easy to fix). But the colours are just great, and the yarn very soft. Because there's only 200 yards of it, it's coiled around what will be the heels, toes and cuffs. Some pure merino I dyed with onionskins and vinegar as a mordant a while ago. I'm not sure that the colour won't fade out a lot, but I don't mind.

Now, I've been reading some Elizabeth Zimmermann recently, and she's inspired me to think about the way that socks are constructed, and how I might best make them. I've broken down the socks into four elements: toe, heel, long tube (foot and leg) and cuff. Now normally one knits either cuff, half of long tube, heel, rest of long tube, toe; or vice versa. I'm going to break the order up a little, for reasons of motivation, neatness of sock, and limitations of yarn respectively. I intend to, over the next couple of weeks, run a set of tutorials on what I've done. None of it is terribly original (more EZ's 'unventing'), but hopefully it might give some of you some ideas.

Tutorial one involves the mystery of getting that single hank you saw above into this.


Two even cakes. I don't have scales to work it out by weight. But this method works nicely if you have a swift and winder. Take your little twisted skein apart so it's a big hank of yarn. Count the number of strands at any point in the hank (I counted by twos, it's quicker). For me it was 105. I want two even cakes, so I'd want 52.5 'rounds' of the hank in each ball. I put the hank on my swift, and tied a scrap of yarn to an arm of the swift where the start of the hank was. Lined that up with my ball winder. Then I just had to count that scrap of yarn passing the ball winder 52 times, and cut the yarn off halfway around the 53rd pass. Easy! I admit I did count in batches of ten, with a little pause between each to stop my poor little brain getting confused.

I also discovered when winding that in general, the yarn went dark - light - dark across its entire length. If I want the light and the dark on my socks to roughly match up, I'll knit one cake from the inside and one from the outside. Also easy.

Buttons for UnStripy

It's done! I finished it while watching Wall Street last night (possibly the best film to come out of the eighties, from an art history student perspective. I'm sure Badly Coloured Boy got sick of me shrieking stuff like "Look at the interior decorating! The mock surface finishes! Everything is fake! The symbolism! The symbolism!").

Now I'm stuck as to buttons.


These are a great size, and I particularly love that they are made from scrap timber from the South-West (of Western Australia, for my interstate and overseas guests). So it'd mean the whole of the jumper is local, from sheep through buttons. But I only have three, and I think it needs four. And when I bought these a couple of years ago they were everywhere, including on ebay. I can't find any on ebay now, and I doubt the sort of low-budget, quasi-transient bead shops that were stocking them are still around or still have them. I did find some similar ones on etsy, but, well, they just aren't local. I found more! I wonder why these didn't turn up in last night's etsy search.


Well, I was going to ask y'all for opinions as to which looked better, the three large buttons, or the multiples that are (in my opinion) too small. But I don't care now! I'm getting more of those big 'uns!


These little ones are pretty neat though (kind of feminine, too). I've got eleven of them, and am saving them up for something special. Maybe my Stripy. That's right. I decided I loved BCB's handspun unStripy so much I want one. I'll put stripes on mine though.

Oh, and just because it's kind of cool, in searching for buttons I found this place, Cute As A Button. Sure, it's a little pricy, but they have red and silver leather buttons!

Christmassy stuff

I got my Christmas cards in the mail from Flora & Fauna Press. Aren't they great? I wonder if I'm the only person in the world that chooses Christmas cards because they remind me of an Agatha Christie novel. I think it's just the very, very fifties design. Subtle, but definitely there. I wish I knew the name of the typeface.

And behind it is some fabbo Kokka fabric from Duckcloth. Not sure what it will be, but damn I liked it!

Owl!

Isn't he lovely? I just bought this from Sugarloop's etsy shop. She really is one of my favourite Etsy sellers (for two reasons, one we're about to get to, the other because of her artwork). Oh, and the price! This came in at the ridiculous price of $20 Australian icluding shipping! Not that I'm complaining about a bargain. I kept umm-ing and ahh-ing over which of her prints to buy, then the one I liked would sell out, so when this one was listed this morning I didn't hesitate over the fact that nothing else in my house was orange, I snapped it up for its fab design. And given the size, I think it will fit into those delightfully low-price Ikea frames that are designed to hold Ikea postcards.

Now, the other reason I like Sugarloop's Etsy shop is to do with 'prints'. Many artists on Etsy sell 'prints'. Unfortunately, from a fine art perspective, what they actually sell is reproductions - a high quality copy (scanned and colour-printed, generally) of an original of their artwork, made in an unlimited/ unnumbered quantity*, sometimes signed. A print, technically, is a piece of art produced in a limited edition multiple, numbered and signed. There's nothing wrong with selling reproductions, but it makes it nearly impossible for those looking for prints to find them, short of searching individually for 'etching', 'linocut', 'gocco', 'screenprint', etc. I was lucky to stumble across Sugarloop.
I wish the terminology on Etsy was more precise, so as to separate out original artworks (prints) from the reproductions.

And many of the artists selling prints made from more accessible methods (gocco, screenprint, photography) don't number their work. I think this is a pity, as it prevents the work being regarded as 'real', collectable art in the traditional sense. When I print-made (what an excellent past-tense) my teacher used to make me destroy the plates/ screens after I completed an edition. And I was just a nobody churning out art to get a grade. He said it was a good habit to get into (and as a printmaker himself, I guess he would know). I personally won't buy a print that isn't numbered. I want to know how many other out there will have a piece of art like mine. Judging by Sugarloop's sucess, limiting the number of prints you make doesn't hurt business. She sells in sets of 80 to 100, generally, but there's no reason that editions can't be bigger. I have other etchings that are from editions of 500 and 1500 respectively. And you don't actually have to make all 1500 in one go. It's just a commitment that you won't make more than that number. And small alterations (hand-colouring part; or changing the ink colour) can justify a new edition.
Perhaps that's old fashioned of me, expecting editions to be limited. Are there other perspectives that defend not numbering works?

* Some reproductions are sold in limited editions too, actually. Banksy, for instance, sells limited edition reproductions (in the form of posters) that fetch high prices. Jury's out on this for me. I have no problem with the practice of selling limited edition repros, but I don't think I'll ever buy one personally. Maybe I'm just an art snob.

handbags

this is the handbag I use every day. See how the fabric is wearing away around the knot? You can't really tell from this photo, but it's also quite a grotty colour (washing machine has failed to fix this), and the fabric is also literally wearing away where it rubs against my hip (see the white flecks on the aqua part of the middle flower?)



Thing is, it's so roomy. It fit a water bottle and a lunch box and an umbrella and two glasses cases and my wallet and my phone and two sets of keys and some other sundry bits and pieces, despite looking no larger than the average bag. It's like a Tardis-Bag. I think it's because it has a base on it that's the size of a small dinner plate.
I figured I'd use it until the end of this year, then carefully unpick it for the pattern.
The other joy of this bag, however, is the pattern. I love it. It actually matches most things I own. It's bright, and it gains attention.
Well looky what I found:


Okay, this one has been sold, but the lovely NeverEnoughHours has others in her etsy shop in other colours. Maybe she will make another in the blue floral? I love the shape of the bag. And the kicker? She lives right in my city! It's like it was meant to be. Okay, I would need to (a) save up/ work a little extra (story of my life); (b) ask her to try and dump the contents of her life into the bag to check it's large enough for me (I think it is); and (c) enquire about a zip (prone to running, throwing bag on ground with gusto, carrying valuable loose in handbag, etc).
But I am very, very excited.

aside, here's what I gave mah mama for mother's day (unrotated, because I'm lazy). Note that the giftwrap from my work matches the complimentary 'thanks mum' sticker issued by head office (without knowing what colour wrap we had) which matches the Lotta Jansdotter notecard that I had in my stationery stash.


Also note my wonderful cloth napkins, which I use as placemats when guests come over.