Copyrights and Such

Long ago and far away, I had a home-based business selling my original architectural needlepoint designs, which I put up as kits complete with hand-painted canvas and Paternayan Persian yarn.  After a few years, I'd built up quite a nice little clientele. 

One lady, who was a regular customer, once confided in me a coup she was particularly proud of:  She had purchased a stitchery kit from a large department store—solely for its design.  She then xeroxed the pattern and returned the kit to the store for a complete refund. 

Basically, she stole the design.

And bragged about it.

It amazes me how otherwise honest people, who would never steal material goods, can justify to themselves the stealing of intellectual property.  Because make no mistake about it, that's what a design (or a book, or a song) is:  intellectual property.  Intelligence, if you will.  Like software.

Now, I ask you, why should a designer put in the sometimes hundreds of hours it takes to develop and transcribe an original design . . . for free?  If everyone cheated in the manner that "lady" did, how many designers—or artists, or composers—would be left?  We'd all starve to death.

 

Getting Your Beads On #2

So, before I tell you how those glorious garnets got me into trouble, let's review how beads get knitted into your work in the first place. 

Blackberry Blossom Scarf takes the unusual approach of knitting them into a long-tail cast-on.  Erica, the talented young designer at Fiddle Knits, directs us to thread a needle with the beginning end of yarn and then string the appropriate number of beads onto that strand.  Then you pull the beads up the strand until you have a loose beginning tail long enough for your anticipated long-tail cast-on.  Begin your cast-on, and at every other stitch, bring a bead down the string before casting on that stitch.  This knits the bead directly into the cast-on edge.

I found this method to be quick and easy, though it will only work if you're applying beads to the outer edge of your garment.

The more conventional approach is to apply beads throughout the body of your shawl, as I did with Basilica.  Using a steel crochet hook of a gauge fine enough to fit through the hole of your bead, you pass the hook through your bead, catch the first stitch on your left needle (the stitch to be beaded), and pull it through the bead, restoring that now-beaded stitch to the left needle.  Then you knit that stitch onto the right needle.

Sweet Dreams required the second of these two methods.  Now, I had ordered 4mm (#6) round beads of solid garnet—the gemstone, not the color—anticipating that the hole would be the same diameter as the hole through the glass beads I'd used for Basilica.

It wasn't.  It was dramatically smaller.

On some of the garnets my finest gauge crochet hook would fit through the hole, but then as I tried to draw my beautiful silk/seacell yarn through the bead, the hook snagged the yarn, fraying it into fragments.  Obviously another approach was called for.

Instead of placing your bead onto a crochet hook and pulling the stitch through, it's possible to pass one end of a short piece of fine line—beading wire, for instance—through the stitch.  Then you match both ends of this piece of line and poke them through the hole of your bead, drawing the stitch through the bead.  This works.

But not even my very fine gauge beading wire would easily pass through the bead's hole when doubled, and drawing the yarn through was a strenuous physical task.

"Do you have any wire finer than this?" I asked Hubbest.

"No," he replied.  But knowing something about fly fishing, he suggested, "What you need is a tippet."

Turns out a tippet is the very, very fine monofilament to which a fisherman will attach his fly, way out there at the end of his heavier line.

[Interestingly, in this case, a tippet is also the name for a short-than-elbow-length shawlette of yesteryear that draped over the shoulders and hung open in front, just as my modern-day Basilica was going to do when finished.]

Well, I was fresh out of tippets, not being a fly fisherwoman myself, so I used a piece of finely plied metallic thread whose ends would adhere together if I wetted them.  Spit did the job.

You might find tippets a less messy solution to the problem of a very, very tiny bead hole.  

Getting Your Beads On #1

Sweet Dreams, that delightful confection of a shawl, uses beads for glamour and for drape.  They're knitted on, which in this particular case presented something of a challenge, which I'm going to get around to in due time.

First, a word about beading in general.  Most patterns will tell you what size and how many beads to buy.  They'll also guide you as to bead placement, either in written instructions or with a chart.  From there, you're on your own.  The choices can be bewildering, as a visit to any good online retailer (such as ArtBeads.com) will prove. 

Example:  When I worked Basilica in hand-spun pygora, I used 4mm (#6) round glass beads in a lovely apricot hue.  For Blackberry Blossoms (see previous post) in washable merino, I used #6 cube-shaped glass beads with a raku finish.  For Sweet Dreams, worked in silk/seacell, I chose 4mm round beads of real garnet. 

The garnets got me into trouble, and thereby hangs a tale I'll relate in my next post. 

Sweet Dreams, a Silken Shawl

So, Sweet Dreams is off the needles and off the blocking pins.  A lavishly beaded, semi-circular shawl, here's what she looks like close up:

I used HandMaiden's silk-and-sea silk blend in their chocolate color.  This luxury yarn has a sinuous drape and a sleek hand.  Though not inexpensive, it was a joy to work with. 

I always choose the finest fiber I can find, for nothing is more valuable than my time.  If I invest my many hours, I want the product to be heirloom quality.  This is.

Notice the beads.  They're not glass.  Those are real garnets.  Talk about heirloom . . .

Next post I'll speak of beading and the challenges those garnets gave me. 

Unfinished Business

How many unfinished knitting projects can you tolerate?  How many must you generate?

Some folks are driven to finish the current project before casting on for the next.  Others can merrily start three or four projects, alternating among them, ultimately finishing each one.

I'm in the latter camp.  Good thing I have a large collection of needles and a wide range of yarn weights in my stash.

At this moment I have five projects on the needles--circular, always circular:

"Sweet Dreams," by Boo Knits (part of the In Love collection on Ravelry, see Sweet Dreams), is a romantic, lavishly beaded shawl requiring close focus.  It's going to be worth the concentrated attention, but I figure my persistence span is about two rows a day.  So that's my quiet time project #1.  I'll speak of it further; stay tuned.

"Holden," by Mindy Wilkes (a free download on Ravelry, see Holden), is a lacy shawlette some folks used for this year's Ravelympics.  I'm up to the lace portion, which qualifies it as another quiet time project, though not so demanding as Sweet Dreams.  It's in quiet time #2 position.

"Semele," by Asa Tricosa ($6 USD on Ravelry, see Semele), is an intricate confection requiring that I sit tight and read carefully.  I've begun enough to know it's going to be gorgeous in silk ("Apricot Falling Off the Twig," dyed by a couple of young ladies in Nuremberg--so magical these Internet connections).  It's in quiet time #3 position.

"Spectra," by Stephen West (yes, real men do knit), is my pick-up-and-take-along piece ($6 USD on Ravelry, see Spectra).  Its rational repeats keep the fingers busy while the mind engages in conversation.  Everybody needs a knit-and-talk project.

"Blackberry Blossom Scarf," by Erica Jackofsky (FiddleKnits, $5 USD on Ravelry, see Blackberry Blossom Scarf), begins with an outrageous cast-on in excess of 600 stitches--beaded, no less--and then some lovely lace work with nupps, but now I have it to the pick-up-and-take-along stage, so it's knit-and-talk #2.

And then there's my own newest unvention [thanks, E.Z.], a sideways-knit coat of many colors that uses only garter stitch, thereby qualifying as an excellent Road Trip project.  (You CAN knit without looking, can't you?)  Stay tuned for more details and some photos.

So that's, let me see . . . oh my goodness, SIX current projects in process.

That might be my all-time high.  What's yours?    

God Bless Sharp Eyes and Gentle Tongues

On the other hand, designers do make mistakes.  It's so easy, when you know how to get there, to think that you've given someone else the right road directions.

Turns out Eight Godmothers did have a flaw in the pattern.  It should have been CO25, and the last yarn-over on the increasing rows should not have had a compensating k2tog.  With that change, the BO4 makes sense, because you're then back at 25sts.  (If you're not a knitter, this will sound like pure gobbledygook.) 

More than one sweet lady tried to nudge me toward that realization . . . not with an accusation, but with a very gracious question.  And so this morning I am appreciating the sisterhood of civility, the kindness of gentle natures.  In a world of road rage and political invective, the sweet and sincere question is a balm to the spirit.  Courtesy is not dead; it lives on Ravelry.

The amended pattern is up.

[*sheepish grin*] 

Meditation For a Long Path

Let me be grateful for this moment's occupation.

Let me find contentment in the pulling of one stitch through another, hastening not toward the garment.

When life seethes around me, let me take sanctuary in the sameness of this pattern.  Let me be soothed by the predictable, moment after moment after moment, creating certainty in an uncertain place.

For this I can control, this I can count on.

Let me find joy in the doing, knowing that the having will follow in its own good time.

Blessed be this humble stitch.
And this one.
And this one.
And this one.

On Trusting the Design

Remember Eight Godmothers?  The lacy collar that uses a Victorian edging pattern (Godmother's Edging) interspersed with wedges of stockinette?  The design I posted free on Ravelry?

To date it's been favorited 145 times, downloaded 469 times.  (Hmm, let's see:  if it had been priced at $4.00, by now the revenue would have been . . . ) 

Anyway, I've had two people private-message me asking if I forgot to call for casting on 4 stitches at the beginning of each new "godmother."  One person even went ahead, without messaging, and just cast on those 4, assuming I'd overlooked it.  (Her finished project looks noticeably different than my prototype:  her "godmothers" protrude beyond the stockinette wedges farther than they should.)

So, here's the thing:  as each "godmother" develops, it adds a stitch on every knit row (the final yarn-over).  By the end of the "godmother," 4 stitches have been added in this manner. 

Those 4 stitches are then bound off at the end of the "godmother," and the stockinette wedge proceeds as before.

Designers do make mistakes; patterns do come out with flaws.  But sometimes we just have to trust that it's going to work out.  Suspending judgment for a while, patiently following the letter of the "law," can get us where we're supposed to be. 

Picot Ribbing Cast-On

This wonderful cast-on produces a picot edge to ribbing.  If you care about the fine details of your knitting, it's worth learning.  And it's not that hard, because it builds on the long-tail cast-on you (should) already know.  (See this blog's post for April 7, 2011, The Long-Tail Double-Edge Cast-On.)

This cast-on consumes about the same amount of loose-edge yarn as the long-tail, so measure roughly 12 inches for every 20 stitches.  (I hold the leading edge in my left hand and run the yarn about 4/5 of the way to the crook in my elbow:  that gets me about 20 stitches for each such pull.)

Now make a slip knot. 

Make a tent with your left thumb and left forefinger, just as with the Long-Tail.

At this point the Long-Tail takes the tip of the needle up through the hole created by your left thumb.  Hold that thought; we'll get to it in a minute.  But first, for the Picot Cast-On, you're going to bring the needle tip under the left wall of the tent

and then you're going to snag the right wall of the tent, making a simple wrap on the needle,

Ribbing with a Picot Edge

The newest vision Charlotte has presented begins at the ribbed top of a turtleneck.  No ordinary spider she, Charlotte has insisted, this time, on a picot edge to that ribbing.

Here's what it looks like so far:

Note:  that is not a turned, double-back picot edge; it's a single edge that was cast on that way.

Stay tuned and I'll show you how to do it.

Tomorrow:  The Picot Ribbing Cast-On.

Charlotte's At It Again

Well, as you can see from the photo on the right, Charlotte's been busy again.  When the spider speaks, spin and knit I must. 

This lacy collar uses loops and bobbles for its closures.  The bobbles needed a little cotton stuffing, I decided.  One Q-tip per bobble provided just the right amount. 

I'll bet you've never seen a pattern call for 5 Q-tips.

Watch for it on Ravelry:  Sunday at the Sea.

Where Do You Get These Ideas?

At lunch the other day, my good friend Helen (wearing the Have-It-Your-Way Big Beret, photo on Ravelry) asked me, "Where do you come up with these ideas?"

I tried to explain that it's like an image that floats in, unbidden, and won't let go until it's made manifest.

I remembered Ratatouille.  When Matt and I were writing the cookbook (Cast Iron Cuisine from Breakfast to Dessert), I would often joke, in the throes of needing to prove a new dessert inspiration, that the rat was in my hair again.  (If you haven't seen Ratatouille, the Pixar delight, this will sound grotesque.)

But Ratatouille is purely a kitchen diva.

So who is it that takes hold coaxingly, imperiously, and will not rest until the whim has been knitted out?

That would be Charlotte, I believe.

Free or For Fee?

So, a new design is finished and ready to share with the public.  Then I wonder, should I charge for it or give it away?

Others may have their own criteria.  Mine comes down to this:  how much time did I have to spend writing up the pattern?

If the design came together easily, if the prototype joins my Christmas Gift stash, and if the written instructions were straightforward, I am inclined to post it to Ravelry as a freebie.  Easy Rib Turtle Bib is one such.  Eight Godmothers is another.

But if it took me four to eight hours just to create the written pattern, then I feel entitled to some compensation for that time, especially if there were original charts involved.  Lacy Popover was exceptionally time-consuming.  Lady Folderol took many hours.

So for those I charge a little something.

On Having It Your Way

Aunt Ruth crochets marvelous, inventive caps, no two alike—except they're all form-fitting skull caps.

But I like a big floppy beret.  Even better, I like a newsboy cap, or a golf cap, with a bill to protect my glasses from the rain.

So why not a convertible beret, I wondered.  One that can spring forward

 or fall back.

Done and done, worked in 100% pygora (hey, if you've got it, flaunt it).  This used two ounces, spun to sport weight, worked on increasingly larger circular needles, finished on double-points.

Watch for it on Ravelry.

Using Up the Scraps

Who among us doesn't have leftover balls of yarn, too few to make anything with, too beautiful to throw away?  I have bags full.  There they sat, taunting me.  "You're the designer," they teased.  "You figure it out."

After a few false starts, a few dead ends, I finally turned to Barbara Walker for inspiration.

And there it was in her second volume:  Scrap Yarn Afghan Stitch.  I liked best the look of the stockinette version.

This will be a scarf.  Its lovely scalloped edge is perfect for the purpose. As you can see, I used three (harmonizing) colors in a sequence of two rows each. 

Here's a tip:  when working with three strands that begin and end on the same side of the work, begin your knit row by knitting the first stitch with the two lowest strands held together.  (The first stitch of each knit row will thus use two strands of yarn rather than one.) Then continue the row with the color whose turn it is, leaving the other one to dangle at the right edge, waiting its turn.  This will prevent long, awkward skips on the right edge.

Here's the pattern:

Using color A, Cast on in multiples of 12 plus 3.  (The illustration shows 27 stitches.)
Knit one row with color A.
Row 1:  Using color B, k1, ssk, k9, sl 2, k1, p2sso, k9, k2tog, k1.
Row 2:  With B, p6, (p1, yo, p1 in same stitch), p9, (p1, yo, p1 in same stitch), p6.
Row 3:  Color C, same as Row 1.
Row 4:  Color C, same as Row 2.
Row 5:  Color A, same as Row 1.
Row 6:  Color A, same as Row 2.

Seaweed Stitch

If you've been wondering about that Seaweed Stitch, here's what it looks like on the knit side:

The oblique knit blocks meander gently upwards and to the right.

On the purl side it looks like this:

Like its parent k4, p2 rib, Seaweed needs no border.  I like that it adds textural interest without the rigid bars of a plain rib, which to me can feel too businesslike, too masculine.

Instructions:

Cast on multiples of 6.
Row 1:  p4, k2, repeat
Row 3:  p3, k3, repeat
Row 5:  p2, k4, repeat
Row 7:  p1, (k4, p2) repeat, end p1
Row 9:  p1, (k3, p3) repeat, end p2
Row 11:  p1, (k2, p4) repeat, end p5
All even-numbered rows, k the knit, p the purl as they present themselves.

A creative knitter could develop riffs on this basic theme.

The Evolution of a Design, Part 2

"In its knitted incarnation, the first yard or so draped nicely.  But it was somehow still too . . . hmmm, understated?  Not femme enough?  It still looked like something a guy would wear."

And then Lady Folderol wandered in.

Remember Lady Folderol, the yoke that morphs into a cascade of ruffles? 

She gave me trouble enough, that one, getting the ruffle right.  By the time I was sure of the numbers, I'd had to do yet another test knit.  This one was still on the needles, about three inches of it complete.

Lying next to Seaweed, she looked curiously refreshing, like foam on the wave's edge.  Frothy.  Girly.  So I ripped back to collar depth, added an anti-roll border of seed stitch, and bound off. 

Then it was, Where should she ride?  I tried all the usual tricks: Test it here, squint from a distance.  Try it there, walk in on it unawares.  You know the drill.

The scarf's edge seemed to work best, though then there was the obvious conundrum—all the way down an edge?  Both edges?  Well, I only had a collar's worth; might as well add that now, worry about more later, and adding it now as a collar, of course it had to be centered on an edge.  But that didn't look quite right.  Again, set it aside and ponder.  And then serendipity.

You see, when I set the scarf down this time, it fell into a fold occasioned by Seaweed's design.  A natural turn-back.  Which is as you see the finished item featured in yesterday's post.

Designs seldom spring full-blown.  Most of them emerge, evolve in baby steps:  hypothesis, test, revision, over and over.  Adding, redacting, building, ripping.

Until finally, if we're lucky, it feels just right.

The Evolution of a Design

First came the leather jacket.  So supple, so soft, so comfortable:  I loved it.  But all by itself it was too . . . commando.  It needed femininizing.

A scarf would work, I thought.  Something in a brighter hue, but not plain.  Variegated, slightly, like the—aha!—hand-painted merino/tencel the Rumple had led me to.

Not plain, but not bordered.  Here was needed a stitch with some texture, a stitch that wouldn't roll at the edges or curl at the hem.  Ribbing?  Didn't feel right.

Broken ribbing, then?  Still too humpy-bumpy.

"Seaweed."  Seaweed was the thing.  Zoom in:  see how the broken ribbed blocks meander.  Nice.  Suitable for the subtle variegation.

In its knitted incarnation, the first yard or so draped nicely.  But it was somehow still too . . . hmmm, understated?  Not femme enough?  It still looked like something a guy would wear.  (I love ya, fellas.  I just don't want to look like you, ya know?)

Denouement coming.  Stay tuned.  (After all, this thing didn't get knitted in one sitting.)

Kitchener Tips

A few tips for working Kitchener:

1.  Hold your right-pointing knitting needles as close together as you can get them and snug your stitches up firmly as you go.  Otherwise, your Kitchener row will be too loose and when your join is finished you'll have to go back and coax all the gaping stitches into proper alignment with a tapestry needle.

If you can get your left index finger between the two parallel knitting needles, your Kitchener stitches will be too loose.

2.  If you must interrupt a Kitchener sequence (say, to answer the doorbell or the phone or a spouse or a child—you know what is most likely to break your concentration), don't leave off until both stitches on a particular needle, front or back, have been worked.  So, your front needle's "knit off, purl on" should be an indivisible package, as should your back needle's "purl off, knit on."  Keeping to that rule will make it much easier to pick up again at the right place.

3.  If you're working with a very soft yarn, consider threading your tapestry needle with an accompanying strand of thread.  This will help keep the really soft yarn from fraying to pieces.  Later, when the Kitchener row is finished, you can go back and pick the thread out.

Joining with Kitchener

Have you ever wished you could join the body (not the sides) of two knitted pieces seamlessly?  Invisible grafting, otherwise known as the Kitchener Stitch, will let you do just that.  What Kitchener actually does is insert a new row between the two pieces. So artfully is this new, needle-applied row contrived that none but an expert eye can detect the join.

Here’s how it’s done:  

Visualize two lengths of stockinette, still on the needles, presenting knit-side up.  These two pieces of stockinette contain exactly the same number of stitches.  Position these pieces purl-sides together, both needles pointing to the right, with the yarn coming off the right side of the piece in back. 

Cut the yarn, leaving a tail about three times as long as the sides to be joined.  Thread this yarn through a tapestry needle.

The Set-Up:

Now bring the yarn to the front knitting needle.  Insert the tapestry needle into the first stitch as if to purl.  Leave this stitch on the front knitting needle.

Bring the yarn to the back needle.  Insert the tapestry needle into the first stitch as if to knit.  Leave this stitch on the back knitting needle.

Working Kitchener for Knit:

Front knitting needle, first stitch, insert tapestry needle as if to knit.  Remove stitch from knitting needle.  Insert tapestry needle into next stitch as if to purl.  Leave stitch on needle. 

Yarn to back knitting needle.  First stitch, insert tapestry needle as if to purl.  Remove stitch from needle.  Insert tapestry needle into next stitch as if to knit.  Leave stitch on needle.

Continue in this manner until all stitches have been removed from both knitting needles.

Here’s a mantra to help keep you on track as you work:

Front:  knit off, purl on

Back:  purl off, knit on

It will help if you actually verbalize this.  “Knit off, purl on; purl off, knit on.”

Working Kitchener for Purl

To join two pieces of stockinette on the purl side, hold them with knit sides together and follow this mantra:  “Purl off, knit on; knit off, purl on.”  The set-up is opposite of the method for knit.  Beginning with the yarn coming off of the right side of the back needle, bring tapestry needle forward.  Insert tapestry needle into first stitch as if to knit.  Yarn to back needle.  Insert into first stitch as if to purl.  Then proceed with “knit off, purl on; purl off, knit on.”

If you're careful about how (and precisely where) you pick up your stitches, I've found that you can even add to a cast-on edge using Kitchener.

Remember the piece I referred to in my previous post ("A New Beginning")?  The lacy shell that I'd finished, blocked, and assembled before I discovered it just didn't look good at its 20" length?  The garment I decided to add 6" to, from the bottom up?

I used Kitchener in the knit mode to join a 6" extension to the bottom of that piece I'd begun from the bottom up.  Here's how it turned out:

Can you find the join?