It feels like gasping for breath. Our new place now has working interweb functionality, but tomorrow I’m headed to the ol’ family seat in NJ. I predict that there will be little web contact during that time. Lots of bowling, though. I’m hoping that all of the box-hauling I did this week has strengthened my arm a bit, because when we last bowled my sister outscored me by the end of the night. This can’t continue.
I have many knitting things to say! Unfortunately, the vast majority of these things require diagrams, and this in turn requires a scanner. The scanner is located somewhere in the third quadrant of Figure 48, and its associated computer is somewhere in the second quadrant, and ne’er the twain shall meet today.
Instead, I’m going to filibuster with a thought-question that I found in the archive of Get It Knitted.
my SP8 hostess posted this question “Someone has stolen your stash and all your books: now what are you going to do?”
Here’s my answer: I’d totally retool my knitting M.O., starting with the yarn I use. I haven’t had much chance to discuss my love of recycled yarn on this blog, but it comprises approximately 50% of my stash. Yes, yarn recycle and rescue is laborious and a bit of a gamble, but it’s also really exciting to be able to create a luxury good (which wool has become) from thrift scores and castaways[1]. It recaptures a bit of that DIY aesthetic that initially attracted me to knitting, and it prevents me from outknitting my stash too quickly.
I hate wasting things, and I know there are people out there besides myself who worry about the market and environmental implications of their purchases. I’ve often considered teaching a craft class at my school on yarn recycling, or starting an etsy shop for recycled wool. There used to be a recycled knits KAL-type group online, but I think I missed my chance to join.
Yep, I’d go recycled on everything except socks*, and I’d tailor my book rebuying to match. After 20 years of knitting I can write my own patterns, and I’ve often considered eschewing patterns totally and just knitting my own things. The length constraints and irreproducibility of recycled yarn imply that it would be best for me to just design from scratch. Maggie Righetti (and others, I’m sure) talked about how yarn often tells you what it wants to be. I’d love to explore this side of the knitting aesthetic more deeply. The only books I’d buy to restart my knitting are the Barbara Walker stitch treasuries.
There is a certain Kantian ethic to all this that I can’t ignore: if all of us who could use recycled yarn did use it, the handknit yarn market would fall apart. But hell, if all of us were vegan, then cows would go extinct. ….I’m not sure where I was going with this, exactly. See you next week.
[1] (As a slight tangent, I’d like to give a shoutout to Leah’s Repurposed Goods on etsy, which manifests this aesthetic awesomely with non-knitted items.)
[2]Recycled socks are just not worth it. I do have a pair, and I expect them to fall apart within three wears. What a waste of some beautiful knitting.