HARLEQUIN AFGHAN…or….relationship advice.

"Come on, here's the camera, take a few shots before you leave!"

Blocked & positioned on matching rattan furniture.

And it's off the hook, assembled, complete. The Harlequin Afghan, finished.  I blogged about this piece just days ago, and before that, a few other times.

What to say, now?  Perhaps an homage to the sort of playing with cameras that we enjoy…or at least I enjoy, with the indulgence of my family members.  Peter is responsible for this collection of KSN photos in the back yard, modeling the afghan as wrap/cape.

blocked, ready for use.

 Every once in a while I start to wonder if we ham it up for the camera a little too much. After all, some of us are not getting any younger.  Then again, it's terrific fun, especially for the self-absorbed.  I'd also dare any of you, LFs, to do the same.  Why not?  In this instance, I'm rustling up the attention of my long-suffering spouse.  One of the remedies to long term relationship blues is to simply ask for attention.  It's so easy for us to focus lots of energy on self, on kids, pets, work, house, and forget about each other.  So, on a Friday morning when I ask my spouse to take a few extra minutes to shoot these photos, I'm asking for attention, interaction, a laugh or too, and, thanks to the technology, a memory.

"This is going to look fabulous. I can wear it wherever I wish!"

 Somebody warned, in an earlier post, that this afghan is too gorgeous to not convert to a wearable item.  Now that it's finished, I sort of agree.  It's main purpose will be to adorn my mid-century rattan couch, but whenever the fancy hits, I think I'll break out the "Harlequin Cape". why not?  One hundred percent worsted wool, it's soft, not too scratchy, and warm.  I'm fond of the colors. Chartreuse, coral, black, grey, white. Great midcentury colors, still classic today.  I'm wild about the juxtaposition of classic vintage detail with modernity.  In this case, the whole set-up looks hopelessly modern.  The Harlequin Afghan time traveled to today and got stuck in a selfie-shoot and an outdoor affair.

"Go ahead. Just try to tell me what I can and can not wear!"

And so we have it.  I can't help but try to synch the piece up with a pop song, and for some reason Hall and Oates comes to mind, again and again.  If you see the cape around town, you'll know who it is.  You'll also know what it is.  And if you see me running/riding/sitting with this cape wrapped around my shoulders, you might even hum a few lines from a Hall & Oates song:

"It's up to me, what will be…"

"She's gone." 

"What went wrong?"

"Face ain't looking any younger, now I can see, love taking her toll on me…"

And to quote the photographer: "I like seeing you argue with the camera!" There is usually a fair amount of arguing, but not without it's fun. Next installment of yarn madness, nobody knows.  But there is a small chance that it will be painstaking, unique, and possess bit of whimsy. 

In which an eternal project nears completion…or… I'm gonna make an afghan, "Just Because" I can.

 

Can you say 1950's?

 I'm obsessed with a lot of things, and vintage afghans are right  up there with jigsaw, crossword puzzles, and needlepoint. It takes a yarn goddess special personality to move up from the smaller items that might adorn oneself in the outside world to making giant pieces that take forever to complete.  A few of the afghans I've finished have the added status of mind-numbing details.  My current afghan project entails the crochet construction of one hundred-eleven small-ish diamonds,  sewn together, painstakingly, by hand (naturally).

This afghan is exciting, also, because it is one of the patterns in an old book that was part of my mom's collection, ca. 1956, called Modern and Traditional Afghans to Knit or Crochet.

Mom kept everything in mint condition.

So it's been a long time coming. In fact, I think I've blogged about this very project (in another lifetime?) at least twice.  Now that it's almost the moment of truth, I don't know if I love or hate it.  I certainly love the inspiration from which I embarked on the project.  Nothing like planning and purchasing and starting out on an endeavor, with nothing but possibility ahead, and about twelve skeins of wool washable yarn.

Early days, meticulous blocking.

An old blog post,  Spring 2103

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way I came to believe that I didn't have that *special stuff* required of the fifties housewife or whomever was expected to make these monster blankets. Much to my disgust, I realized that many of my diamonds were inconsistent in shape and size. 

early assemblage and blog-bliss

 Blocking (deep steam pressing) takes care of this problem to a certain extent, but, truth be told,  I can be a little devil-may-care in my approach to projects, so…Not. Perfect.….Which means, not a terrible thing in many projects (pie, for example) but for a piece that requires over a hundred perfectly symmetrical parallelograms sewn together with all seams equal, there erupts a problem.

But I persevere, and insist that this afghan will be worthy of the party that is our house-full-of-lap-throws.  The four of us often sit around, and whomever grabs afghan first is cozy and ready for whatever it is our family is up to (conversing, reading, drinking wine,  coffee, tea, dessert or sleep).  What I really love is having a project to work on (okay, many projects) so I'm never thinking or feeling that the things I do I do because I'm being *forced* to do them.

 Projects are so compelling to me simply because I don't really have a reason.  I just do.  There's no income, there's no *should* , there's no status.  All I have is the human desire to make something, and do something.  Call me entitled.  Sure.  But also, call myself Unencumbered.  This is the idea.  Amidst all of the shoulds, the worries, the what-ifs and the what I forgot to take care of,  insert the devil-may-care, "Just Because."  I'm gonna make an afghan, "Just Because" I can.  "Just Because I want to."  Or, finally, "Just Because I really really really wish that we all had to or wanted to make things for ourselves, because, of course, making things takes time, and this is what we've been doing since the beginning, and it's only in the very recent past that we've forgotten all this, and not needed to make things that take time for ourselves and for our survival and for our family."

What's Terrific? Raren to Go!

My friend, Julie, took me to a reading by her friend, Peggy Shinner, from a recently published book of essays, You Feel So Mortal. Julie figured that I would enjoy the vibe and the content as it related to older and dying parents, loss, and our relationships with our own bodies. At the event itself, there was a lot to like.  Friendly people, beautiful food, not too noisy, and a sunny, terrifically rehabbed Chicago two-flat.  Peggy's reading was alive and vibrant. I was riveted by her stories, of her mother, her father, her self.  When, at the close of our event, my friend raised her hand and asked a question of the author, it was the closest I had been to crying in quite some time.  Sitting through these essays about dying parents, everyday life, the tears didn't come.   Somewhere between the   heavy loss that I'm experiencing and the joy of experiencing an afternoon with one of the most brilliant, vital, funny friends in my little hood, there was a sliver of teary hurt.  But I didn't, (cry), partly because I wasn't about to spend the afternoon talking about what 2014 means to me (except I do like to say 2014 is about paying cash).

So that was terrific.  There is a lot of terrific.  So much terrific, that I feel overwhelmed by it, particularly now that season has shifted to the lightness of Spring.  I went home with Peggy's newly signed book of essays, and I settled in to a dinner of leftovers (alone) and proceeded to read the whole thing by the following morning.  She's that good.  So many pieces resonate, and to my Chicago friends, especially Albany Park and environs, perhaps more so.  But now, as in many quickly read pieces, the detail flutters away,  but one word... Liberating.  Peggy said that losing her mom was liberating.  I'm sure this is true for so many of us, although the why has  to be different for each of us.  How losing my parents has liberated me I'm not really sure. I don't hold with myself the feeling that I'm doing anything for them, nonetheless, as I sat awake in the wee hours, about a week ago, I pondered not doing triathlon this summer, not even doing Ironman Wisconsin this summer, I felt that profound sense of. Liberation.
And the amazing thing about letting go of so much, I get more and more excited about doing things in place of those encumbrances.  Why do Ironman, when I can do ANYTHING!

Aided by today's sun, I took a moment to get a few shots of the Harlequin Afghan (wip).  This afghan represents a convergence of creative endeavors that have been fueling my fire.  It's a vintage pattern, it'll adorn my creative office space, it's portable, the colors are deadly, and it bridges the gap between then and now.  Even in the work that I'm doing, there's a sense of reaching back in time, I go through objects from years ago as I clean and organize my house, and welcome objects from Mom and Dad's estate.  I was rummaging through my old sewing patterns a few weeks ago, wondering what, if anything, of that collection I would be willing to sacrifice  to ebay, in the name of declutter.  Lo and behold, I was reminded that years ago, possibly even my first Ironman (certainly a half), I wore a tri-outfit that I made myself.

And so, the adventure of a new life, but in my case there's a heavy dose of things that have been there all along.  Some of those things hearken back to before my parents were very old, or even ill.  Those things remind me of myself before marriage, before kids, before mortgage, before co-habitation, even.  This little suit I made in my beautiful attic apartment near Holy Names college.  I had a little nook for sewing and I could watch the sun set over the south Bay.  How's that for terrific?  There aren't enough hours in the day to contain my creative urges.  Swimsuits, crochet, knit, food art, car art, redesign my home, jewelry!!!! I'm ready, and Rarin to go…in fact, years and years and years ago I had a terrific friend, full of energy and verve and my nickname was: Raren…Raren to go.

Why Do We Do the Things that We Do?

 This afternoon I took pause to capture images of the active yarn projects spread around my home.  I skipped over the projects that have sat dormant for four or more months.  Inventory?  About nine open accounts.  Wow.  And what do I really have to show for it?  Sometimes, I've got to wonder.  After all, I've repeatedly said that there's no way to make money off this stuff, it's not as if I'm converting my passion into, say, a yarn-work teaching store or even a design house.  It's a sort of applied art meets walking self expression art installment meets a vision of retro-leisure-time-activity.  Who knows, maybe it's just giving expression to modern day angst in a fashion that is quiet and portable and socially acceptable.  And really, why justify it with a cause, a purpose? 

Why so many?  Why not so many!

I'm quite satisfied with the variety, style, craft, and portability of the work at hand.  A benefit of working different projects simultaneously is that any project might fit the moment.  Need some mindless work for sitting at a swim meet?  How about a newly generated concept, full of life and potential?  What about a piece that has failed in it's initial efforts and needs some re-working and careful thought?  And of course, what about the statement piece, one which is always a conversation starter, a gem, piece of my mind, quite literally, out there for all to see? 

Forever Projects Work Wonders on our Sense of Time.

This afghan is one of my favorites.  It's called the Harlequin, from an old Afghan Catalog that I've been carrying around for years, Modern and Traditional Afghans to knit or crochet.

The Harlequin

From Mom's collection of course.

I'm thrilled with my color choice.  The sixties pattern calls for primary colors on a white background.  My taste, and to fit my front porch/office area is the chartreuse/coral/black/grey.  The black background seemed like a great idea, but it's turning into a bit of a nightmare.  I've got about forty more black diamonds to crochet and assemble, and the yarn is difficult to see, especially when working in challenging light.  I'm probably about twenty-five percent finished, so, like many pieces, I may never finish.

Don't give it away.  It's purpose is fulfillment. 

Mobius Cowl

I'm happy to make another Mobius Cowl.  I made this wrap/shawl/warmer for another friend at a time of illness and recovery.  This deep purple cowl is going to someone nearby who has had a difficult season.  I am not too fond of making objects as gifts.  A big piece of why I work yarn crafts is that it's a way to make things without always making things for other people (kids/spouse/etc), and as soon as one fills their to-do list with gift items, well, then, poof(!), there goes the huge part of crafting that is self care and meditative.  That said, I'm ocasionally inspired to make a gift, and this wrap is so clever, in that you never have to lift the hook (it wraps on top and bottom as you crochet), there something delightfully giving about the essence of how the cowl works up.

The message: Oh Well. 

Oh Well! Hat.

Heavy on concept,  the Oh Well! hat is one of my favorites.  It's a double knit, so as I work the main color, the contrasting color can spell a design or word out.  "Oh Well." is my first and very favorite bumper-sticker of all.  That said, it's not my favorite piece of yarn work, and I'm not in love with how it's working up (too clunky, too loose with the two color scheme).  It's also a scrap yarn, so although lovely color and yarn, possibly not the best delivery of my message.  Often times, the concept itself is much more inspiring that whatever it is I actually come up with.  So many ideas, and so  little actual time, of course, to bring ideas to light.  I'm completely captivated with yarn-bombing of all sorts, but truthfully, I can't fathom being able to cover such vast spaces with my work, so I need to settle for wear-able yarn art.

Sometimes, an idea fails. Move On.

Crochet or get out of the way. Move on.

I'm kind of moving away from my obsession with granny squares turned into garments.  So this really delicious yarn (baby cashmere merino silk), that I've already used for fingerless mittens and hat is sort of taking up space in my project mind.  I want to turn it into a skirt, but it's just taking too long, and I'm not feeling it.  Let's face it, anyone who's ever made a lot of stuff knows the truth.  Some projects just don't work.  This might get pieced together one day, but it's hard to
feel it, sitting in a purse, day in and day out.  In some ways, life is a lot like this.  Sometimes, something seems like a good idea, but once the inspiration is gone, move on.

 Meditation, Repetition, Prediction.

Needlepoint bench cover. Just like Grandma's.

 And then, there's a giant needlepoint bench cover that I found, half-worked, in a thrift store last summer. Something tugged at my heart when I saw it, and I was back in my Grandmother's house, learning to needlepoint, and admiring her cane wood chairs each carefully covered with a maroon-backed floral print.  Needlepoint is tedious, a tremendous eye strain, and not very creative at all.  It is, strictly, pattern piece work.  That said, there's a terrific meditative rhythym to this work, and there are mornings when there's nothing that I'd like to do more than sit in bed with coffee in hand, working this piece which, surely, will take a lifetime.  Then I can dream on to the discovery of what and where I might find the proper bench to place this work upon.   Originally, I imagined some sort of giant coat backed with this piece, but now I've come to realize that this sort of needlework will probably never make it outside of the house....well, as far as I can think....

Foresee the inevitable.  Weather will change.
Cozy in the American Tourister suitcase, a pair of mittens, worked up with yarn that will match the "Oh Well" hat.  I originally conspired to put little ducky on the back side, but the pattern I was using was completely wrong and my tension was miserable.  So it was, just a matter of days or weeks ago that I unravelled last winter's work and started over, perhaps to do a simple striped glove or the like.  For the time, I need to let go of my beloved stencil-patterns for knitting.  Now that it's actually snowing, I sort of wish there was a way that I could have foreseen the cold.   I'm enough of a fair weather athlete to absolutely wait until the weather shifts before I perform any seasonal projects.  Poor planning? Perhaps, but then again, if my intention is to create a feeling of being unencumbered within myself, then I guess I'm on the right track.

Wish List: Always Creating. And, speaking of scraps, I've got in my head that I'd like to build a mod-style dress out of cast-off yarn. Crochet is the craft, and I'm thinking a fairly bulky design on vertical stripes.  Lo and behold, the scraps that I was considering, probably wouldn't be enough for a skirt, let alone a dress, so it's back to the drawing board on that one.

And so yes, why do any of this? Why do what I do? Why do what any of us does?  It's in this world, a world endowed with leisure time and technology and mass production and the mad rush to achieve, earn, survive, that we wish and wonder why.  I argue that we do this because we must.  We must do something to create a sense of ritual, peace, art, joy, connection, belonging.  Some of it turns around and makes the world a better place, some of it sits in our own cocoon and withers, but it's what we must do.  We must try to do something, try to create something, after all it's the hope and the wish that we're building something beautiful, meaningful, worthy of this life and more.