Kitchen Knives

Today I'm thinking about cookery. I just finished reading My Life in France, by Julia Child, and in light of our Christmas dinner debacle, I am thinking back to a time when I just plain did not see the point of cooking.  Don't get me wrong, I love food.  And not in that, I'd eat a dozen donuts if no one was looking way.  I love it in the way that, if invited to dine with good people (gourmands of my own type) at a good restaurant (good based on my own criteria) I'd hock jewelry or max a credit card to do so, especially if there was the chance of a tasting menu with wine pairings.  

Now I married someone who likes to cook and who is very good at choosing recipes.  He has a subscription to Bon Appetit and has never thrown away one issue in over 12 years, as far as I can tell.  Sometimes I find very old, crusty and stained issues on the kitchen counter and realize they were originally sent to a wife he isn't married to anymore, at an address he left when the boy was 6 or 7 (Boy is now nearly 18.) But a recipe does not exactly go out of date.  Sometimes on Top Chef a judge like Gail (Editor at Large for Food and Wine) will say some dish reminds her of the 1990's.  Well, okay - food goes in and out of fashion, like the episode of Friends where Monica meets her soul-mate and both proclaim sun-dried tomatoes are "so last year," but really, if you like sun dried tomatoes in the first place, have you ever really stopped eating them?  Not as long as you can still find them at the supermarket, I'm willing to bet. 

But I digress.  Despite the fact that Man had been planning on cooking Christmas dinner, I lobbied for a change.  He was going to make beef, and that brought up all kinds of those Christmas memories for me that are the kind that make people hate Christmas and stop speaking to their relatives.  I don't hate Christmas and still speak to my relatives but it's still a matter of some sensitivity that years ago when I did not eat red meat, my mother would persist in doing a giant prime rib because my brother-in-law (who is Jewish!) seemed to like it.  So, I would fly 2300 miles through crowded airports to celebrate this holiday by "filling up on sides." Vegetarians have to do this all the time, I know - and I have lobbied for one of my nieces, based upon my own experience of how absolutely dreary it is to "feast" on potatoes sans gravy, rolls (which may or may not be from Costco or Sam's Club, since the only reason they're on the table is to fill you up), a micro-waved vegetable and if you're lucky, maybe a decent salad of some fashion.  

Man wasn't particularly happy about the change of plans, and wanted no part in collaboration. So, after I interviewed Boy on his dietary preferences (lamb or duck was okay) I checked out the internet and ventured out shopping, 3 days before Christmas.  Well, it's been snowing here, a lot. I drive a small car and it's not terrible in snow, but it's no SUV.  The biggest issue is that when there's a lot of snow and the plows come, the hills of plowed snow make it difficult to see around corners.  This was something I experienced six times, in entering and leaving parking lots of 3 different stores, including one actual meat market, a long way apart, without either lamb chops or duck breast, growing more and more upset at each turn.  

Now one of the things we discussed having was the item I was most fond of for Christmas dinner the whole time I lived in Seattle: salmon.  The food I like best to celebrate with on my birthday is Alaskan King Crab.  These two items I encountered in solidly frozen and in the case of the salmon, heartily smoked form, in abundance at both the grocery stores. No duck breasts were to be had anywhere, and although there were numerous legs of lamb, I found nary a chop!  (My mother had ironically selected salmon as her own main dish this Christmas.)  The sight of those mountains of ice-coated crab legs just depressed me to no end.  I got extremely homesick ("This would never happen in Seattle!") and when I arrived empty handed back at the house, I told Man I hated living in the MidWest, this was a stupid place where there was no good food and I didn't know why anyone lived here at all. Then I burst into tears. He agreed to go to Woodman's (where we mistakenly believe they "have everything!") and came back with...nothing, except a new opinion on the price of goose.  I went back to the web, tearfully resigned not to cook either delicious recipe I'd previously chosen, and was convinced eventually I could make a whole duck.  It would feed 3 and I might as well, since there wasn't anything else left in the stores anyway.  Later a whole frozen duck appeared in the refrigerator, and Man spent the rest of the evening commenting on the price of goose (which I gather is outrageously high.) 

Well, I cooked it.  You are instructed to pierce the entire duck with a skewer to render the fat. I guess I didn't understand how much fat we were talking about here.  It was a lot of fat, so much so that I was pouring it off every 20 minutes as instructed and feeling that the bird was out of the oven more than it was in the oven.  Essentially, it's pretty easy to cook a duck, but in the end, it's just not really that worth it.  Sure, potatoes cooked in the rendered fat later were good, but the duck itself was so unappetizing after having spent the better part of my day with it, and it's grease, I was ready to order Chinese food.  It was much harder to carve than a chicken or a turkey, just because there's all that duck fat - the carving fork got away from me, the knife was slicked with oiliness and I my hands were so slippery it was difficult to grab a leg and remove it. It's a miracle no one was hurt. But no, it's not hard to cook a duck, seriously!  It's just hard to eat it after you've cooked it.  There's not much meat on a duck, but we had an okay meal.  Not really a feast of any manner, since I once again found myself tempted to "fill up on sides." 

There are many among my readers (if I have readers!) who will find my tail of woe just disgusting.  I know most of my friends from days gone by aren't going to be happy that I even looked for lamb chops, but I'd like to point out that the first time I ate a lamb chop I was at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, CA, and that was just what they were serving that night - I had very little choice, I was an invited guest!  (Although filling up on sides at Chez Panisse would raise the whole practice up a big notch.)  I don't know when the first time I ate duck was, but I suspect it was somewhere nearly as important.  I do not argue with the menus of chefs who have changed our entire way of eating as Americans.  Also, living, as I do, here in the dreaded midwest, I actually have been to the fair and seen those 4H lambs being raised by children whose parents are just praying their knees off that the kids will want to stay and run the family farm.  Karma gets real tricky when you know farmers personally.  

I know I should just be happy to have Christmas dinner at all.  Sides to fill up on are a true luxury.  All the leftovers were really delicious (because Man got out the Emeril Lagasse cookbook and generated magic, bless him!) and now that the oven has been cleaned and no longer smells of duck, I know I will order it at restaurants in the future, if I'm lucky enough to find it on the menu.  We will remember this Christmas dinner at our house.  And next year go back to beef.  I think we're going to look up a good recipe for hot gin punch, too, as it seemed to make the Cratchits feel a lot better about their extremely small (and apparently deceptively priced) goose. 

Brainwashing: I read it in the newspaper!

This morning we're watching it snow and I'm checking through my email for things that need attention.  But there's not much except that I've been given permission to post some work by Amii Johns (up later) and also I got a message from my old friend, painter Sienna Reid, who is living in Italy right now, but apparently is still reading the New York Times Arts section (which I can never remember to do.) I'm fortunate that Sienna sent me a link (via Facebook) to this article.

Be sure to read the whole thing. It starts out all nice and "who knew?" and goes along to the key question, Why Embroidery.  Ruth Geuter's essay may be worth the price of the catalogue, which  you can bet I will be trying to order very soon. 

Grandmothers should be angry!

So, today is a snow-day here in chilly Wisconsin, so I checked to see if any of my students had left me a comment on sharpandpointedobjects.  They didn't. But, I got a great comment from Craftivism blogger Craftivista.  She directed me to an article in Craft magazine called Who's Craft is it Anyway? Pretty interesting question. The premise of the article is that craft product marketers have been over-using the phrase, "Not your grandmothers_" (insert any craft here.) In reading the article I reflected on some of the crafted items I have that my own grandmothers have made, and especially my mom's massive craft output over the past 7 decades.  Frankly, there are some embroideries around here that look like you could have gotten them yesterday at Urban Outfitters. They were made by my grandmother Lawson, who's own mother was a professional seamstress. 

The pictures are probably from an Erica Wilson kit. When I was a kid I actually thought needlework designer Erica Wilson was as famous as Mary Tyler Moore.  My other grandmother crocheted.  She had a more economical tendency not to use really good materials, but she was fast, and had sort of a Gee's Bend approach to color.  Lots of people on my father's side quilted, and everyone sewed.  

I have a picture my grandfather took of my mom learning to knit, and she's wearing a two-piece suit that her grandma, the seamstress, made for her. She's about 8 years old in the picture. My mom still knits me sweaters sometimes, when it's my lucky year to get one.  Since I wear them all the time, you can assume my attitudes towards my mother's knitting would not make me run to grab any project labeled "Not your mother's knitting."  Her knitting is vastly superior to mine, even, and I'm a professional. Why wouldn't it be? Practice does make perfect, and I was raised in a household where the most oft repeated phrase might just have been "Wait until I finish this row!"  And my mom is a total snob about her craft output - natural fibers, the top brands, patterns only from a few classy designers. She visits Iris, our local yarn shop, about once a week.  She likes a bargain, as any artist does, but she's apt to splurge if she finds that perfect assymetrical, complex cable pattern,  avant garde, "is she freakin' out of her mind?" sweater while in a knitting mood. 

Speaking of my mother, I need to call her today - she just got back from Colonial Williamsburg, where she was on an Embroiderer's Guild workshop trip to learn to replicate someone's historic sampler.  It's absolutely true that most of what we see at Michael's, JoAnn's, Hobby Lobby, or Walmart is indeed, Not My Mother's Embroidery.  But it's not just the historic stuff - for years she was in charge of finding jurors and organizing the jury process for Fiber Forum, which was the contemporary arm of the EGA (Embroiderer's Guild of America.) That experience prompted the birth of a family joke: One of the jurors, who shall remain nameless, once sent back a bunch of entries with only one comment on the sheet: "Why Embroidery?"

But that's a good question.  Why embroidery? does beg a valid question - nowadays, as throughout the early to late 20th century, there are plenty of people who embroider just because they find it a pleasurable activity.  But some of the imagery they're embroidering is ridiculous.  In some hands, a threaded needle is as powerful as a loaded gun. In other hands, it's just another tool allowing Disney and Hallmark to financially exploit the masses. 

The other issue is quality. Most of our grandmother's and mother's craft production from before say, 1973, is different than our contemporary crafts because it's simply a lot better made. They were taught this stuff when they were tiny girls!  They were forced to keep doing it! The work was well done because it was something that was used to discipline them - they had to learn how to go back and fit whatever was wrong.  There was no such stitch as Frankenstein Stitch. There was just sloppy, ugly, and wrong, and you'd better do it over. This is why many women wanted to go into the workforce, people!  What we so fondly call "crafting" now, was, in fact, historically a contributing factor to the Women's Movement.  Ever heard of women's lib?For vast numbers of women, that meant liberation from having to sew, knit, crochet, embroider, and quilt.

If you're a trained artist of either sex using embroidery for any reason, you better have an answer to that question: why embroidery?  There are plenty of other ways to capture an image, and if you can't justify why you're using embroidery instead of photography, painting, drawing, pastel, or crayon, then you run the risk of really insulting those who are using embroidery because of it's history, social status, embedded subtexts, aesthetics, process, or repetitive nature.  Artists have to be aware - with textiles, it really can't just be about process unless it's all about process.  Is it your art or your hobby?  If it's your hobby, have a good time.  If it's your art, learn a little about what you're doing - read about it, or talk to your elders.  

In either case, if your crafting is not specifically designed for simple enhancement to basic clothing or shelter, it's probably NOT your grandmother's embroidery.  But then again, it'd probably be news to quite a few grandmas out there that this stuff could be Art. 

School, pointedly.

Hello!  Well, it's really snowy here, and I promised my intro class I'd update the ol' blog to help them with their embroidered self-portrait projects. Here are some from a few semesters ago, made by Sarah Condon, Jess Rosenberg, Kelsey Eglehoff, Jenna Gleason, & Jacob Yahnke. 

So, I'm going to write a little bit about what happened when I PowerPoint-ed for them on Monday and how I'm probably going to go through a big stitching phase now that I've committed to knitting Christmas presents.  I blame the students, of course. If they just weren't so darned thirsty for sharp and pointed knowledge, I could allow myself to forget how much I like my subject matter, even when I'm not teaching it.  (And this is where John would pretend to sneeze while actually saying the word, "Nerd!")

Okay - our Powerpoint presentation featured the work of those anonymous laborers who brought us knowledge of the Battle of Hastings.  For being the world's most famous textile, the Bayeux Tapestry is pretty unknown - but not for it, we'd have no historical record of William the Conqueror and how the Saxons lost back in 1066 to the Normans.  I prefer to show the really gorey bits to my students, because really, the more you study embroidery, the more you realize it's not been about Precious Moments or Home Sweet Home until pretty recently in history.  How many British royal women passed their days in the Tower, awaiting execution, while stitching away on some bit of needlework now preserved in the Victoria and Albert museum?  Plenty.  How many bitter babes with no "voice" managed to tell it on a sampler? Too many to count. Anyway, at the conclusion of our presentation, Adam informed me there was a youtube video of the Battle of Hastings in which some clever person had animated the Bayeux Tapestry.  Check that out!  We did.  Pretty good sound effects.   We jetted then through the centuries and touched on a sampler done by an 11 year old (I could have used one done by a nine-year old, but since the students just learned to do French Knots, I didn't want to demoralize them totally.)  We then hit on some biggies from the resurgence period, as I like to think of it.  The second wave of feminism has a few big conceptual artists we have to look at - and frankly, all you young third wave crafter feminists out there should be ashamed of yourself if you don't know these people - Elaine Reichek and Annette Messager.   I was unable to find the Elaine Reichek image that shook my world as a graduate student online - I'm going to see if I can find it in an old copy of Fiberarts, because it's a killer and should be seen by all.  With Messager we just focused on her proverbs, though she's done a lot of stitched works, or deconstructed stitched work.  Moving on from there, we got to contemporary embroidery.  We looked at Hella Jongerius' embroidered ceramics; Clare Coles' embroidered wallpapers and furniture; Richard Saja's reworked toiles and glow in the dark french knots (but I skipped showing any Orly Cogan, who would be a good companion to Saja's because she works in a similar vein, her work is more pornographic than his, faint of heart be warned!) We also checked out some of the other artists who are in "Pricked, Extreme Embroidery" at the Museum of Arts and Design in NYC.  These included the Phrenology Heads by Morwenna Catt; two works by Tilleke Schwarz; and Afro Abe by Sonya Clarke.  The best compilation of images I found from the show and also a good bit of editorial can be found here.

Some themes that emerged in my search for new embroidery were that many of the artists aren't restricting themselves to just embroidery - this may seem obvious except that if you think about artists who identify as painters, they pretty much always use paint on canvas.  Lots of these artists, like the artists in the Lawton Gallery's recent Craftivism show, identify or are identified as Conceptual Artists.  The other big observation is, the work coming out of Europe, and most specifically Great Britain, tends to be the most relevant today, and isn't laboring under any crazy bad notions of cross-stitch kits and Aunt Martha's iron-on days of the week towels.  American seem to need to constantly talk about how they're "referencing the domestic" (I admit, I've done it myself multiple times - once totally confusing a Scottish curator.) There's only one Lou Cabeen and the rest of us should get over it.  I'd like to see more racial, ethnic, and historical references in American embroidery, like Sonya Clarke's Afro Abe, (which, sharply and pointedly, I find vastly more interesting than her hats and prayer bags.)  Let's face it: there's a lot more in America that can be referenced with needle and thread than "the domestic," and in case you think that's tattoos, check out what Jenny Hart does when she's making art rather than designing for her line of iron-on transfers for Sublime Stitching.   Word to the wise, the tattoo thing is just about played out.  Matthew Benedict was doing it back in '98, and no one's done any better since, in my book. 

We wrapped up our class on Monday with a quick demo of a technique I actually learned from the aforementioned Lou Cabeen, which was how to keep paper stable if you're going to stitch on it.  For those heading off to the studio here are my answers to the questions I most anticipate from anyone who's thinking of doing this: What you're looking for is by Pellon.  Do not use Stitch Witchery or Wonder Web.  The generic name for the Pellon is fusible interfacing (if you're going to the fabric store.) Place it dots side down on the back side of your paper matrix, iron with steam and not much motion on a medium heat until the dots obscure and the bond holds.  You won't be able to use a hoop for your stitching, and you can't pull stitches out without making permanent holes in the paper, but if you do a test run you'll get the hang of it.  And yes, you can take cloth out of the cabinet in 416, as long as you cut from the end, and leave a clean edge on the roll or bolt.  You're allowed to use the cotton, black or white, but don't use the silk or satin, please.  

Today's post is: Not my job.  Sometimes, the most sharp and pointed objects I use are words, I'll admit it. My patience is a little short these days. Tomorrow we have a big critique in Intro Textiles. One of my better students swears it was supposed to be yesterday, but apparently the rest of the class didn't notice, because when I walked in yesterday, there were dye pots all over and sewing machines running and other signs of "critique in 2 days" going on.  The room is a mess. 

The ones I'm most likely to throw a sharp word or pointed comment at are: the one with blood red dye left in a bucket on the floor; the one who showed up just as I was leaving class today and wanted a critique (having missed the real critique last week), the one in advising who told a student there were no graphics classes Spring Semester, the one who didn't even thank me for showing his student where to find her course list for spring semester, the committee member I normally love who revealed today she'd not even started her work for our meeting on Friday (I've been prepping for 3 weeks), the one who emailed and asked that I email her homework because she was missing class tomorrow (no reason given) and finally, the custodian who won't even run a broom around the edge of a table in my classroom once in a while. 

You might feel like pointing something sharp at these people too, because their actions distract me from doing nice things for people like you. Enough rant. Check out the new art Malcolm suggested - ginger's text messages, link at the side here. 

Here's the dog I've been talking about to my students and others. He's made of dog-show ribbons that Chris Walla gave to me, some time ago when I was visiting him up in Moorhead.  I haven't counted them, but there are a lot!  The dog is only made of the first prize and winner ribbons, except to fill in I've used the green obedience qualifier ribbons.  They're attached to a floor pillow that's been squished up into a dog-like shape.  He's pretty abstract, I know.  He's also just mostly pinned together in this photo (don't tell the juror!) The dogs who won the ribbons were named Gremlin, Gillian, Chelsea, and Tiffany.  They were German Shepherds, Australian shepherds, American standard pitt bull terriers, or Alaskan Eskimo dogs...I can't tell which dog was which breed, though.  The ribbons are from competitions all over the U.S. throughout the late 80's and mid 90's.  But the quality of this photo shows how much I need a different camera.  

Okay, so if you've come here to see the winner of the Puff Paint Challenge we had in the Stitch gallery, I'm going to have to apologize because I needed to take a picture, and my batteries keep discharging in both camera and phone. Finally, I have the winner's photo! Though I admit it's lousy because I had to use my phone to take it.  Anyway....A big congratulations to Allison Wagner, who's entry is constructed of wired ombre dyed ribbon and glow in the dark shiny paint.  And just in case you were wondering about the Stitch gallery, I've got an image on the left of how it looks from the "street."  You can sort of see the other puff paint entries as well, just beyond the velvet ropes.  The participants were, top to bottom: A. Johns, A. Gates, E. Rose, A. Wagner, and D. Schmidt.  November's challenge is the I "heart" goodwill tee-shirt challenge.  We may have to bust out of locker 527 for that one.

   

It's been super exciting these last two days up in 416 - the studio classroom where Textiles happens.  There was a movement afoot a few years ago to start calling 416 "Cellblock No. 9" because me and a few of the advanced students all went crazy over rockabilly royalty, Wanda Jackson, and a song of hers about a riot in a women's prison that goes, "There's a party goin' on... up in cellblock #9."  Well, the Textiles studio does sometimes feel a little like the laundry at a women's prison, or so I imagine.  (My poor assistant Allison has been washing "free" theatre drapes up there every spare moment.  We got them from surplus through a big comedy of errors - we'll use them to do discharge projects, and hey, it's free fabric. I did have a drapes-shop flashback when she opened the giant box they came in.  One's past never leaves!) 

Anyway, we had a visit yesterday afternoon from Faythe Levine, who directed the documentary film, Handmade Nation, and who is on our campus because she curated a show for our gallery called "Craftivism."  She has sharp eyes, she noticed a St. Vinnie's treasure that hangs over our chalkboard right off the bat.  It's a tiny embroidery that says "Plan Ahead" but of course, the funny part is, that the stitcher had to put the last a and the d on their sides to fit it on the cloth (or so it seems.) I had to fight Jaana for it in the store when we came across it.  Anyway, I was impressed that Faythe noticed it because it's one of those things I've been looking at for so long I can't see it.  Faythe seemed very cool, and we're all looking forward to seeing the show when it opens on Wednesday.

This morning my advanced students were super rowdy and came up with a ton of interesting ideas.  Then because I was impressed with Drew's handmade message shirt, I got the idea that I'd post their handwork here.  Stay tuned for Drew's rebus shirt.  The other plan we've put into action is that the Stitch Gallery (in locker 527) would issue a challenge every month. October's is the "First Annual Puff Paint Challenge" and they're all out there buying that awful stuff right now, I would bet, for their 6"x6" works of puff paintery.  I'll post the winner here.  

The Stitch is getting a remodel over the next couple weeks, so it'll have lights and a floor. It was closed all last year due to well, basically, management's involvement in Women's Studies. With the big conference last year there was no time for the Stitch, even though as a gallery it's only the size of a locker and has no regular hours.  I will be sure to post a picture of the place here - we do have a velvet rope, and have been working on marble flooring, but that's not going too well so far.  We may have to switch to wall to wall carpet, or handwoven rugs.  Now that they've loosened up the locker policy, there may be a chance to take over locker 525, below the Stitch and put in a coffee house, so it'll be sort of like the old O.K. Hotel in Seattle.  

The other big exciting thing is that Spring brings Mindy Sue Meyers back to us!  Mindy just had a super great show for her MFA and got reviewed in the legitimate press, and also on All Things Cupcake.  Take a look, unless you're hungry. Then, you want to wait until you get back from your favorite bakery. 

Patterns, Cheap and dirty

I was thinking after my last post about where I go for patterns, and how we decide what to knit when.  Aside from the vintage books I've already talked about, available at your local thrift and or charity stores, I also have a few great places I go for free or really inexpensive patters when I get the itch to knit, and don't exactly know what I'm in the mood for.  Most knitters by now are pretty familiar with knitty.com, which does a great job keeping the knitting world up to date and in-fashion.  I have noticed lately that they're getting more sophisticated, and it's not as good a site as it used to be for sheer nuttiness and quick weekend gift projects, but still worthwhile if you're ready to dive into a big sweater project or are one of these sockaholic types.  Another place I frequent for free patterns is Berrocco.  They send me a newsletter via email called the Berrocco KnitBits newsletter and it's pretty interesting what they offer in the way of free patterns. If you go to their website you can search an extensive database of cataloged patterns, and their gift patterns are usually super cute and not tacky - for tacky free I go to Lion Brand. No, just kidding, sort of. Lion is a real conundrum for me, as I hate about 50% of the furry, synthetic and trashy-sold-as-sexy crap but on the other hand, they know their knitters. So they also have nice organic cotton, cashmere, and wools that you won't find at Michael's or the other big-box craft stores, and the free patterns for those yarns are pretty decent.  Baby sweaters for the upcoming shower are one thing you can find here that are cute, and done in fibers that will neither embarrass you in front of the mother nor damage the child's emotional well-being for life.  I guess what I'm saying is, Lion's website is worth a look for free patterns as well.  The last place I visit regularly for inexpensive knitting patterns is Webs.  The patterns that they work up for their own line of Valley Yarns are downloadable for about two bucks, and they have one designer, Kristin Hipsky, who's work is really to my taste.  The patterns are well written too.  

With winter coming on, I will probably be hitting the internet for knitting patterns, and indulging in a little bit of free-style knitting as well. The stash, after all, is still lurking in my basement. I will never be a person who catalogues her stash, this I know about myself. But I had an important lesson in stash management last week. The long and the short of it is, remember that one day you too will die, and it's true you can't take it with you.  I don't want to torture any fabric collectors out there, but I saw a basement full of luxury fabrics valued at about $100K on Friday, and the lucky parties who inherited this gold mine can't use it up in their lifetime (some of it they've already worn as children and teenagers!) nor are their children interested.  It's a bad day when you have to call your local college art department and ask to have a professor sent over to offer solutions to how to unload your mother's fabric stash.  I can't at this point say what's going to happen to all that material. But I think I would be remiss if I didn't just say, "Stashers, consider the children."  

Having no children, I plan to just keep knitting for another 4 decades. 

Fashion: Where you find it.

I had a student named Kay, who, because she's just a great person and knows how to multi-task, got herself a volunteer position at our local St. Vincent DePaul thrift store, to be closer to the "art supplies."

Our Vinnie's is literally a tourist destination - like a last outpost of civilized thrifting before you hit the edge of nowhere.  We schedule a trip to this store whenever visiting artists we like come to town. Everyone believes it's the most amazing St. Vinnie's ever, even long time thrifters like me. The best part of the store is the fabric and notions area.  It's run by some tough ladies of a certain age, and Kay was really lucky the day she was told she'd been assigned to help them out.  One of the things she does is sort the donated craft and knitting magazines. 

Old knitting and craft mags are pretty amusing reading; my mom has given me many I remember from my childhood, and the weird thing is, some of those patterns are back in style. With knowledge of yarn substitutions you can actually save a ton by buying these old magazines and adapting the patterns (which are NOT of course ALL worth adapting!) to a more modern color and yarn. I get the feeling this is exactly what some contemporary knitting patterns are, in fact: a new yarn, a new skinnier model to wear it, and bingo, who can tell this was originally seen in a Paton's brochure from 1976?  (I also swear I have a pattern book from 1985 with Lisa Kudrow on the cover - if I could prove it maybe I could sell it?)  Anyway, back to Kay.  

One day she's sorting the pattern books and magazines and the woman in charge tells her to toss everything from the 1980's.  Kay at first thinks it's because the 80's are so over, no one will buy them and it's some sort of retail marketing strategy, but no, she learns: it's because the ones from the 80's are "too risque."  Knitting books, banned for being sexy.  

Now, think about this - who was knitting in the 1980's?  My mom, my best friend's mom, and well, that's about it.  Knitting got really basic, maybe because of knitting machines, which had been rethought as homemaker's appliances (like the sewing machine) that could knit the image of a sheep or a balloon into your oversized Cosby sweater. Knitting was the opposite of sexy, which had to be hard on the Europeans who were producing a lot of sexy yarns, like Phildar, a French company.  Phildar's solution was evidently to take all undergarments off the models, put them on the beach sans tanlines, and sell oversized cotton sweaters as potentially the sexiest little toppers imaginable.  Hence, St. Vincent DePaul, a Catholic charity, has a volunteer (in this case, Kay) weed out the entire decade and toss it in the trash.

But Kay is not reliable. She smuggles the magazines out to show someone who will appreciate this, namely ME.  After we have a laugh over what the Notions and Fabrics Superintendent has censored from the shelves, I notice something.  I'm strangely attracted to pattern number 30, from the Phildar catalogue 106, published for summer 1984.  They call it a short camisole.  I think, a vest, to keep the bust modest and the tummy free from sweat at the same time.  Perfect for the changing climate of the building where I teach.

So down to the stash I head one afternoon and I find 2 balls of Avalon alpaca/mohair blend in black.  This yarn cost me next to nothing - part of a life-changing event that I'll write about another time, it's practically Free Clothes once I put in the time to do the math, swatching, and of course, knitting.  It actually took much longer than it should have, since the thing is so small and took less than 100 grams of yarn, but it was knit on 3's and 4's, and I redid my ribbing about 3 times before I liked it. I also see I have 4 buttons on mine, whereas the original had 3. Whatever! The original was also varigated, metallic, and

worn with nothing underneath! Mine (shown here blocking) is fuzzy, black, and will never be worn without a shirt - I just don't have the tan for it.  

My point here is, learn the difference between 'style' and 'fashion,' put in some man-hours, and you'll never be left with "nothing to wear." 

Not so good at blogging

Well, I'm formulating my first posting, which will focus on a knitting issue I'm dealing with currently.  First of all, I got an email today from a person who wanted to see something I made, which was apparently referenced in someone else's blog.  Sure wish I knew who the first blogger was, but anyway.  I had to send her to a museum's website and tell her to download a PDF catalogue.  This got me thinking about the original piece she'd asked about. Why do I just make stuff and send it off and act like it never happened?  I liked that work, I was proud enough of it to submit it to a show, but still and all, I think I was worried about recreating it, or using it professionally, because it's jewelry, and I'm no jeweler, I have no academic background in that, and I have infinite respect for my friends who are trained as metalsmiths (oodles of friends who are metalsmiths and/or make a living off creating unique and wonderful pieces of jewelry.)  Anyway, here are some images of the work I'm talking about, called Return to Tiffany's, and including the one piece the museum did not want which I call Charm.  (I guess my 'heart' does look like a big tongue. Not that that's necessarily a BAD thing. )