L. and I have decided to create our own knit along. We discovered a sweater knitting class offered in town at Three Bags Full but just couldn’t wait until February to start. So we’re going to start knitting our own next week.

Reindeer Sweater from Canadian Living

I think these are so beautiful. And I’m sure you’ve noticed their strong re-appearance in the fashion world in the last year.

I’ve been reluctant to call these what they are: Cowichan sweaters. Cowichan sweaters have been knit right here in British Columbia for over 100 years by Cowichan First Nations women. Using fair isle techniques brought by settlers and made of thick, undyed and unplied wool, the sweaters are traditionally knit without side seams and usually feature an animal and/or geometric motif.

In truth, I’ve been mulling over what it means for me to knit my very own Cowichan sweater knock-off for a few days now. Canadian readers will likely be familiar with the recent controversy over the 2010 Olympic sweaters, Cowichan look-alikes that Cowichan women bid unsuccessfully to provide. Phrases like ‘cheap imitation’ and ‘cultural appropriation’ quickly entered the discussion (note that this is an old issue elevated to a new Olympic scale; Cowichan sweater knock-offs have been produced and sold to tourists since at least the 1940s). But does this apply to the lone knitter who is not knitting for profit?

Technically speaking, my gut tells me that, like non-Hindu women wearing bindis, like non-Chinese people getting Chinese symbol tattoos, this is indeed a form of cultural appropriation. But it’s interesting that, apart from the Olympic controversy, it seems to be a non-issue for other knitters. Even Interweave Knits has an article in the latest issue about a company that makes sweaters based on the Cowichan style, but there is no mention of cultural appropriation.

So in this instance, my inner knitter wins over my inner cultural theorist: I really want to make a Cowichan-inspired sweater. It’s possible I’m making a big issue out of nothing anyway, which I hope is true. I just want to knit an awesome sweater.

It might be apparent that I’m struggling with the weaving lately. This is true. Knitting makes way more sense to me than weaving, so while I’ve been wrestling with the loom I’ve had some knitting going on the side. These gloves are the result: I love love love them. They fit. They’re chocolate-coloured. They’re soft and squishy and warm.

I especially appreciate the lace pattern (very easy) and the nice long cuffs. They’re knit with Koigu yarn, which I’ve long admired but never purchased. Sadly, the gloves are pilling quite a bit even though I’ve been wearing them for less than a week. I specifically bought sock yarn to avoid this problem, so Koigu’s in my bad books for now.

Thank you, Heather, for the photos (and the berries!).

I finished weaving this green and grey scarf two weeks ago, but I’ve had trouble taking photos of it. The alpaca has given the scarf a bit of a grey halo that looks fine in person but somewhat dull in photos.

It’s amazing how much the scarf plumped up with fulling (although Irene, my weaving teacher, cautions me that it may be dangerously close to being felted). The difference between the piece on the loom and the piece you see above is amazing – it’s still very hard for me to predict what my pieces will look like after they’ve been washed and transformed.

A few technical notes: This scarf was woven at 10 epi, 2/2 twill, from a combination of wool and alpaca yarns. The weft is a fine merino weaving yarn that I dyed. The alpaca, predictably, adds a lot of softness; unpredictably, it went really squirrelly with fulling. The fringes are a loopy, knotted mess because of it – not sure if tighter fringe would prevent this on future projects, but I can’t say I wasn’t warned about mixing fibres in the warp. Otherwise, it’s a nice, soft fabric.

I’ve been hanging onto this one for awhile, not sure what to think. I spun up Felicia’s pretty August fibre club offering (50% merino, 25% bamboo, 25% tussah silk) using the fractal method, as she suggested, with one ply having long colour repeats and one ply having short colour repeats. But I thought I’d mix it up and add some knots, a technique I learned but haven’t ever used.

Here’s what I have to say about this: Despite trying, I’ll probably never be a student of the Lexi Boeger school of art yarn. My tastes run towards the simple – give me stockinette, give me plainweave, hold the sparkles and lumps. I just want fibres that are natural, simple, and lovely.

Which brings me to my next point – I don’t think I like bamboo fibre. I know, shocking, given its trendiness and supposed eco-friendliness. But when it’s spun up it looks too synthetic for my taste. And, unfortunately, it only takes a small proportion to achieve this polyester sheen.

On the other hand, the colours grow on me more and more. I think this one is destined for a weaving project, though I’m warned that it should only be used for the weft. For knitting, bumps like these will only show up on the purl side so I guess I could do another baby hat in a purl pattern, too.

I still have two other treats from the fibre club to spin up but I may just go back to my tried-and-true plain spinning.

This hand-dyed blue-faced leicester: weaving procrastination.

I think I’ve got too much on the go. I say this because I keep starting things and working on things but nothing gets done. My new woven scarf is a prime example; I think I started it a month ago, but I only work on it once a week at my weaving class. There are too many things to knit, projects to weave, rovings to dye, colours to think about, and books to read. They’re all too much fun not to work on.

And so we limp along.

The scarf is being woven on a borrowed Nilus Leclerc table loom with various wool and alpaca yarns. To be honest, I’m not digging this new scarf. Part of my brain keeps telling me to do warp-faced projects, but it’s not actually what I end up liking. Plus, I don’t recommend stash-busting for beginner weavers like me. The results are too unpredictable, and in this case I ended up really struggling to find a weft that works with these yarns. I’m hoping for a transformation once it’s washed.

C. just complained, “You know, you really should have a glossary for this blog.” Warp-faced: the warp shows more. In the photo above, the warp is the brown and green yarns. The weft is the thin green yarn running perpendicular to the warp. So for a weft-faced weave, the weft pattern would be dominant and cover up more of the green and brown warp.

A long while ago, I started knitting some gloves with my handspun. From the start, I wasn’t thrilled with the colour of the yarn, and as I progressed it became clear that these gloves would never make it onto my hands. The pattern I chose was for large-ish hands, and despite my modifications, they just weren’t going to be snug enough to show the lace panels on the back. The 3/4 finished glove sat accusingly next to the sofa, making me feel guilty, until…riiiiip!

The reason for my new-found zeal is a very similar glove pattern in the fall issue of Vogue knitting. No mucky modifications required, so I’m hoping for a good fit this time. I mean, it’s getting chilly out there, not to mention the number of gross people that sneeze all over the handrails on the skytrain. So I happily cast on some Koigu in my favourite shade of chocolate brown and hopefully will have cozy, germ-free hands soon.

colour bridging and composition exercises

Wow. I spent all last week at Maiwa’s Colour Institute workshop, led by Michele Wipplinger. At the risk of sounding gushy, Michele is very inspiring both personally and professionally. The whole week was simply an immersion in colour, with plenty of show-and-tell: woven, quilted, and dyed items from around the world, books, and yarns. It was like an advanced colour theory class, with tons of exercises using different colour systems (like Munsell and NCS), watercolours, and plain old paper and glue. One interesting highlight was the colour vision test, a test of colour discrimination that left me feeling a little cross-eyed.

In addition to being a colour expert, Michele also has a wealth of knowledge about natural dyes. I see a trip to her Seattle studio in my future. So I’m feeling inspired and trying to scrape together some time to put this new-found inspiration and colour knowledge to work, before it wears off. I’ll be going back tonight to volunteer at Maiwa’s Slow Clothes Fashion Show, plus a few more lectures next week. And then my love affair with Maiwa may cool down for a bit.

sample quilt with hand-dyed fabrics

Last weekend I happened upon a food photography workshop at the Roundhouse.

I thought it would help my knitting photography, as both food and fibre subjects are small, close, and need to look delicious.

Friends asked me: Did I learn a lot? Well, no, but I find that getting better at photography, for me, is a slow process punctuated by the occasional ‘aha!’ moment. The ‘aha!’ from this workshop: the five-way reflector/diffuser. I ran straight to Dressew and bought some white nylon for $6 to make my own.