This is not the project I thought I'd dive into when I returned from my travels.
It was not even on my radar.
But a few days ago,
there I was,
cutting up an early backstrap experiment,
knitting short rows panels with leftover bits of the same walnut dyed yarn
(Brown Sheep Nature Spun Fingering used double),
and sewing them together.
there I was,
cutting up an early backstrap experiment,
knitting short rows panels with leftover bits of the same walnut dyed yarn
(Brown Sheep Nature Spun Fingering used double),
and sewing them together.
I have long clung to a belief that I am an organized person
(at least in the realm of my textile work),
a planner who spends months on tapestry cartoons,
and years bringing ideas to fruition.
But apparently, instead, I am a slave to the thrills and chills of
making-it-up-as-I-go-and-using-what-is-at-hand-on-the-roller-coaster-ride-to-an-unknown-outcome.
Who knew?
(at least in the realm of my textile work),
a planner who spends months on tapestry cartoons,
and years bringing ideas to fruition.
But apparently, instead, I am a slave to the thrills and chills of
making-it-up-as-I-go-and-using-what-is-at-hand-on-the-roller-coaster-ride-to-an-unknown-outcome.
Who knew?
Another early backstrap experiment --
linen paper yarn from habu textiles that I'd had for years and years and years,
then wove and indigo dyed last summer--
turned out to be the perfect thing to fold over the top edges of the woven fabric
both protecting the cut edges of the woven cloth
and giving the knitted sections sufficient structure to prevent the skirt from falling down.
And when I ran out of the walnut dyed yarn a few inches shy of making it around my butt,
the idea of an indigo button band became a reality.
linen paper yarn from habu textiles that I'd had for years and years and years,
then wove and indigo dyed last summer--
turned out to be the perfect thing to fold over the top edges of the woven fabric
both protecting the cut edges of the woven cloth
and giving the knitted sections sufficient structure to prevent the skirt from falling down.
And when I ran out of the walnut dyed yarn a few inches shy of making it around my butt,
the idea of an indigo button band became a reality.
The buttons themselves are a mixed bag,
though most are all that is left of a beloved dress I wore till it was compost.
though most are all that is left of a beloved dress I wore till it was compost.
Along with my sense of myself as an organized person,
I've also nurtured definite ideas about mixing woven and knitted structures --
NOT in favor.
But changing my mind has not been as painful as I might have thought.
I've also nurtured definite ideas about mixing woven and knitted structures --
NOT in favor.
But changing my mind has not been as painful as I might have thought.
Just a couple of leg lunges
while taking unintentional and rather grim selfies when trying to show...
while taking unintentional and rather grim selfies when trying to show...
...how the woven panels over my butt will (hopefully) prevent that "cling and sag" effect of so many purely knitted skirts,
made me reassess all my 'never mix never worry' prejudices about knitting and weaving.
Which reminds me of yet another assumption with which this garment has forced me to contend:
made me reassess all my 'never mix never worry' prejudices about knitting and weaving.
Which reminds me of yet another assumption with which this garment has forced me to contend:
that I am not the kind of person who wears short skirts.
But just because I have not done such a thing in the past
does not mean that today,
a couple of months shy of my 57th birthday,
is not a fine time to start.
does not mean that today,
a couple of months shy of my 57th birthday,
is not a fine time to start.
I mean -- what the heck?
