Knitting Camp 2017
First, an apology. I have been so consumed with other things (e.g., a son graduating from West Point USMA, another son graduating from high school, another son home for only a couple weeks, and launching my daughter to a month long trek at NOLS) (And let me just say, sending my 16 year old daughter across the country by herself, to spend a month in the Wyoming mountains hauling everything on her back-- well, it was rather emotionally wrenching. One would think it would call for voluminous knitting, perhaps...)
And there was some knitting- I progressed on several things but this post is going to have to restrict itself to the past long weekend, which I spent at Meg Swansen's Knitting Camp (technically Retreat 2.75).
As always, Camp went way too fast-- and it boggles my mind trying to determine just how to explain and describe the experience. Here is one thought, inspired by a fellow knitter: imagine you have an interest about which you are passionate, or find extremely rewarding, and then imagine spending a long weekend with 60 other people who share your passion. That is Knitting Camp.
But honestly it is more than that. There is, for a knitter, a certain rock-star aura to Meg Swansen, and we love to sit at her feet (as it were). This is not a great picture as I was more focused on listening to her, so my sincere apologies to Meg for a cruddy photo, but here she is reading aloud to us the essay she wrote for Clara Parkes' book, A Stash of One's Own:
Thank you, Meg. 👏
Every year at Camp I resolve to purchase less yarn (I did sort of OK on that, let's just leave it right there) and to not return with 6 new books. I did great there, I only brought back one. It is quite the tome, however...
Lest you think it is just some light weight knitting reading, here is the title of the first chapter: Selbustrikkingas historie. Yes, Selbuvotter, by Anne Bårdsgård, is wholly in Norwegian. Schoolhouse Press imports it from Norway and the shipping is astronomical, which pushes the price rather high. I did not care one iota. It is a phenomenal book. Meg Swansen describes it as "staggeringly beautiful" and I have to agree.
Here's the thing for those of you pondering "Hm, so when did you learn to speak Norwegian, Maggie?" It is chock full of photos and charts of Selbu mittens (as you can see on the cover photo, that is the focus of this book). When you knit a Selbu mitten (traditionally in black and white wool yarn) there are a multitude of motif choices. One for the cuff, one for the back of the hand, one for the palm of the hand, one for the thumb, one for the sides of the mitten (dividing front from back) and still another for the sides of the thumb, and for the thumb gusset. Mind-blowing.
The book has multitudinous charts for all of those motif types. And they are lovely.
The entire Selbu mitten tradition was begun by a lone Norwegian shepherd girl (obviously she was also a knitter) named Marit Guldseth Emstad, born in 1841. I know this not because I suddenly can read Norwegian but because of another book I own by Terri Shea: Selbuvotter: Biography of a Knitting Tradition. Terri Shea, luckily for me, wrote in English.
I would love to be able to read the pages and pages of history, the captions under the photos of knitters, etc, but the charts are truly staggering, comprehensive, and voluminous. I am itching not just to incorporate them in mittens, but also hats and sweaters and even lace. We will see if I can wedge those ideas into the queue demanding attention...
Oh, and I have a Norwegian knitter contact who, when informed of the book, became quite enthused and is longing to read it to me in translation. (Aren't knitters great??)
I am so recording that!!
The funny thing about Camp is that we focus so much attention and energy on knitting and one another, that afterwards I am often completely wiped out. Yesterday, as I sat in the Minneapolis airport (waiting for my flight which got delayed more than 3 hours due to thunderstorms here in the northeast) one might think I would be madly knitting. I did knit, but mostly I just wanted to lie down with my feet up. No, I did not stretch out on either the floor, or the colossally uncomfy waiting area chairs.
Some photos-- not as many as I should have because I can be slow to wrench my phone out when I am listening, watching and, ahem, knitting.
One of the above photos - Cathy's octagonally shaped shawl- is particularly meaningful for me. I started the same pattern quite a few years ago, and at some point put it into a corner to think about. (I hope to come back to this in a later post-- oh yes, and to finish it! Thanks for the push, Cathy.)
The pattern is one in an old German book-- with instructions that are not just in Gothic German, but are quite cryptic. She did a wonderful job figuring out just what was supposed to be going on.
At Camp I usually try to start a new project, or if not, to collect yarn/pattern/concept together to start when I get home. Several years in a row I have left with a determination to knit an Elizabeth Zimmermann design called the Pelerine. It is a sort of a poncho-ette, and if you follow the link to Schoolhouse Press' website you will see a short video of 2016 campers' Pelerines. I did not see any footage of campers from 2.75, but there were quite a few last year. So, ahem, I left last year with a plan to knit one. It is complete thru, let me count, 16 rounds. Hm. Not much progress there...
But there is a positive almost-end to the story-- on Thursday evening as I sashayed thru the camp Market, books and yarn and so on, I spied a color of Unspun Icelandic yarn which I immediately fell for. It is a very pale ice-blue which I believe is simply a different dye lot of the usual pale blue. Now, the usual pale blue does nothing for me, but this ice blue, oh my goodness.
Of course I bought some.
And began work on my lace Pelerine during classroom sessions, as it is relatively easy to work on with only partial brain engagement, at least once it is begun and established.
And there was some knitting- I progressed on several things but this post is going to have to restrict itself to the past long weekend, which I spent at Meg Swansen's Knitting Camp (technically Retreat 2.75).
As always, Camp went way too fast-- and it boggles my mind trying to determine just how to explain and describe the experience. Here is one thought, inspired by a fellow knitter: imagine you have an interest about which you are passionate, or find extremely rewarding, and then imagine spending a long weekend with 60 other people who share your passion. That is Knitting Camp.
But honestly it is more than that. There is, for a knitter, a certain rock-star aura to Meg Swansen, and we love to sit at her feet (as it were). This is not a great picture as I was more focused on listening to her, so my sincere apologies to Meg for a cruddy photo, but here she is reading aloud to us the essay she wrote for Clara Parkes' book, A Stash of One's Own:
 |
| Meg Swansen reading to 2.75 campers from Clara Parkes' book A Stash of One's Own |
Every year at Camp I resolve to purchase less yarn (I did sort of OK on that, let's just leave it right there) and to not return with 6 new books. I did great there, I only brought back one. It is quite the tome, however...
Lest you think it is just some light weight knitting reading, here is the title of the first chapter: Selbustrikkingas historie. Yes, Selbuvotter, by Anne Bårdsgård, is wholly in Norwegian. Schoolhouse Press imports it from Norway and the shipping is astronomical, which pushes the price rather high. I did not care one iota. It is a phenomenal book. Meg Swansen describes it as "staggeringly beautiful" and I have to agree.
Here's the thing for those of you pondering "Hm, so when did you learn to speak Norwegian, Maggie?" It is chock full of photos and charts of Selbu mittens (as you can see on the cover photo, that is the focus of this book). When you knit a Selbu mitten (traditionally in black and white wool yarn) there are a multitude of motif choices. One for the cuff, one for the back of the hand, one for the palm of the hand, one for the thumb, one for the sides of the mitten (dividing front from back) and still another for the sides of the thumb, and for the thumb gusset. Mind-blowing.
The book has multitudinous charts for all of those motif types. And they are lovely.
The entire Selbu mitten tradition was begun by a lone Norwegian shepherd girl (obviously she was also a knitter) named Marit Guldseth Emstad, born in 1841. I know this not because I suddenly can read Norwegian but because of another book I own by Terri Shea: Selbuvotter: Biography of a Knitting Tradition. Terri Shea, luckily for me, wrote in English.
I would love to be able to read the pages and pages of history, the captions under the photos of knitters, etc, but the charts are truly staggering, comprehensive, and voluminous. I am itching not just to incorporate them in mittens, but also hats and sweaters and even lace. We will see if I can wedge those ideas into the queue demanding attention...
Oh, and I have a Norwegian knitter contact who, when informed of the book, became quite enthused and is longing to read it to me in translation. (Aren't knitters great??)
I am so recording that!!
The funny thing about Camp is that we focus so much attention and energy on knitting and one another, that afterwards I am often completely wiped out. Yesterday, as I sat in the Minneapolis airport (waiting for my flight which got delayed more than 3 hours due to thunderstorms here in the northeast) one might think I would be madly knitting. I did knit, but mostly I just wanted to lie down with my feet up. No, I did not stretch out on either the floor, or the colossally uncomfy waiting area chairs.
Some photos-- not as many as I should have because I can be slow to wrench my phone out when I am listening, watching and, ahem, knitting.
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| Victoria had to miss this year but sent some knitting for Poppy to show us |
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| Modeling Victoria's beautiful tunics, with Holly and Lucy |
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| This was knit by a new friend, Cathy, who is so talented, and a delight. |
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| Lucy's shawl. The pattern is an adaptation of an old Herbert Niebling tablecloth |
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| Holly's shawl, adaptation of a different Herbert Niebling tablecloth |
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| Denise's husband made her this Hap shawl blocking frame |
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| Holly's second Fair Isle after Janine's class. The photo does not do justice to the gorgeous colors. |
One of the above photos - Cathy's octagonally shaped shawl- is particularly meaningful for me. I started the same pattern quite a few years ago, and at some point put it into a corner to think about. (I hope to come back to this in a later post-- oh yes, and to finish it! Thanks for the push, Cathy.)
The pattern is one in an old German book-- with instructions that are not just in Gothic German, but are quite cryptic. She did a wonderful job figuring out just what was supposed to be going on.
At Camp I usually try to start a new project, or if not, to collect yarn/pattern/concept together to start when I get home. Several years in a row I have left with a determination to knit an Elizabeth Zimmermann design called the Pelerine. It is a sort of a poncho-ette, and if you follow the link to Schoolhouse Press' website you will see a short video of 2016 campers' Pelerines. I did not see any footage of campers from 2.75, but there were quite a few last year. So, ahem, I left last year with a plan to knit one. It is complete thru, let me count, 16 rounds. Hm. Not much progress there...
But there is a positive almost-end to the story-- on Thursday evening as I sashayed thru the camp Market, books and yarn and so on, I spied a color of Unspun Icelandic yarn which I immediately fell for. It is a very pale ice-blue which I believe is simply a different dye lot of the usual pale blue. Now, the usual pale blue does nothing for me, but this ice blue, oh my goodness.
Of course I bought some.
And began work on my lace Pelerine during classroom sessions, as it is relatively easy to work on with only partial brain engagement, at least once it is begun and established.
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| Pelerine |
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| Closeups of the lace motif |
I hoped to finish it before I reached home, because I knew there was *no way* my house would be as chilly as the hotel conference room we use for a classroom, and in the northeastern US heat and humidity of July, I am not as enthusiastic about knitting Icelandic wool, even into lace. However, as you see, I did not manage to get it done.
I did turn the A/C a bit lower, though-- I just might get done by the end of the week.
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