Giant Projects
So I'm reading War and Peace, and a ripping good read it is, and by the time I'm 100 pages in (that's be 1/15th of the book), I notice that, though it SEEMS to be about big ol' issues like, oh, war, and peace, that's a ruse! Yes, a ruse, to disguise the true concern of the novel, which is -- needlework! No, really, no kidding. Every chance Tolstoy gets, he's dragging in needlework. Ladies carting embroidery around, maids sewing, footmen knitting -- all that fluff about Major Issues is just fog, meant to distract the reader from the examination of textile arts, which lies at the heart of the novel. At the end, you remember, we'll get to the climax of the novel, which would be Anna Makarovna's double knit socks (she knits two socks at once on the same needles) unveiled at a party, to the delight of the children.
Well, that theory was going on pretty nicely, till I got to the second 100 pages, which started the War part, and we haven't had any needlework since then. Too bad. If I find any soldiers darning socks, though, we're back on.
I'm trying very hard to obey the rule of the non-knitting season -- that one doesn't actually do any knitting -- but it's driving me crazy, since none of my embroidery or sewing projects travel easily, and so I don't have anything to carry around and take to meetings. So forget that. I'm swatching. I think I'll start something blindingly easy -- I've got a vintage sweater/skirt set kit I bought on eBay, which would work nicely. Simple raglan cardigan, done in hunter green Shetland wool, with green tweed with which one can make a matching skirt. Yeah. That's what I'll do. But I'm ONLY going to carry it around, and save my valuable nighttime for getting some of the many embroidery projects I've started out of the way.
As, for instance, the Teresa Wentzler "Millennium" design I started in 1999, two years before the millennium actually started. I intended to finish it in 2000 (the cultural millennium), but, obviously, I didn't. When I get to the part where I embroider the year, though (traditionally the year in which a piece is finished), I'm going to embroider "2000," rather than "2003," or, more likely, "2008," or whatever year I finally finish the thing. Rather than thinking of this as outright lying -- which would be, I admit, one way to interpret the gesture -- I'm thinking of "2000" as a symbol, rather than a date.
The piece is enormous, and extremely complex, and contains a lot of tiny stitches which are 1/4th the size of the normal stitches -- that's why it's taking so long. I like the way Wentzler describes it: "I'd rate this design at a little more than average difficulty," she says, "because of the over-one stitching of the faces and hands, and planets. It, of course, has its share of blended floss colors and fractional stitches. Otherwise, it is pretty straight-forward, with no specialty stitches or unusual fibers...just some beads." Right. Rather than thinking of this as outright lying, I'm thinking of it as exemplative of the rarefied atmosphere in which Wentzler lives.
But I do notice that I'm involved in Giant Projects in many areas of my life -- pulling together a book manuscript, ploughing through the Millennium sampler, planning several time-consuming sweaters for the upcoming knitting season, including Starmore's "Margaret Tudor" (that lace thing with all the buttons), cutting and sewing all that fabric I bought when I wasn't looking -- and I wonder what this is all about.
I don't want any more stash. I want to finish things up.
Well, that theory was going on pretty nicely, till I got to the second 100 pages, which started the War part, and we haven't had any needlework since then. Too bad. If I find any soldiers darning socks, though, we're back on.
I'm trying very hard to obey the rule of the non-knitting season -- that one doesn't actually do any knitting -- but it's driving me crazy, since none of my embroidery or sewing projects travel easily, and so I don't have anything to carry around and take to meetings. So forget that. I'm swatching. I think I'll start something blindingly easy -- I've got a vintage sweater/skirt set kit I bought on eBay, which would work nicely. Simple raglan cardigan, done in hunter green Shetland wool, with green tweed with which one can make a matching skirt. Yeah. That's what I'll do. But I'm ONLY going to carry it around, and save my valuable nighttime for getting some of the many embroidery projects I've started out of the way.
As, for instance, the Teresa Wentzler "Millennium" design I started in 1999, two years before the millennium actually started. I intended to finish it in 2000 (the cultural millennium), but, obviously, I didn't. When I get to the part where I embroider the year, though (traditionally the year in which a piece is finished), I'm going to embroider "2000," rather than "2003," or, more likely, "2008," or whatever year I finally finish the thing. Rather than thinking of this as outright lying -- which would be, I admit, one way to interpret the gesture -- I'm thinking of "2000" as a symbol, rather than a date.
The piece is enormous, and extremely complex, and contains a lot of tiny stitches which are 1/4th the size of the normal stitches -- that's why it's taking so long. I like the way Wentzler describes it: "I'd rate this design at a little more than average difficulty," she says, "because of the over-one stitching of the faces and hands, and planets. It, of course, has its share of blended floss colors and fractional stitches. Otherwise, it is pretty straight-forward, with no specialty stitches or unusual fibers...just some beads." Right. Rather than thinking of this as outright lying, I'm thinking of it as exemplative of the rarefied atmosphere in which Wentzler lives.
But I do notice that I'm involved in Giant Projects in many areas of my life -- pulling together a book manuscript, ploughing through the Millennium sampler, planning several time-consuming sweaters for the upcoming knitting season, including Starmore's "Margaret Tudor" (that lace thing with all the buttons), cutting and sewing all that fabric I bought when I wasn't looking -- and I wonder what this is all about.
I don't want any more stash. I want to finish things up.
<< Home