Thoughts On Spinning (From A Spinning Newbie)

April 25, 2016 by Ani Lee in What's On My Needles

You know when you discover something and you're like "how did I not know about this before? what was I doing all this time? my world is completely changed." This happens to me on a fairly regular basis - some examples I can think of - bringing my bicycle to college and being able to cycle around The Bay, buying garlic Persian fetta and putting it in salad, and most recently - spinning. Clearly I am easily pleased/my life is easily improved.

Spinning has my head, well, spinning - with ideas of what I can make, ways I can get more creative/have more control over the things I make. My mind feels like tons of tiny little lights are twinkling at once - or something like that. The plying possibilities- the spinning possibilities, the fibre I can source, the learning the thing. It's all so damn exciting.

spinning attempt #2 - mid Andean Bracelet Making attempt

Thinking of trying spinning? Here are some thoughts I have/things I've learnt (but take this all with a grain of salt, because I am clearly no expert)

See if there is a local spinning guild you can check out. Mine has been a ridiculously amazing resource and community. It has a library of tools- and I was even able to loan a drop spindle so I didn't have to buy one outright! In all likelihood, there's one in your area and the people there are the best people in the world (cuz, the fibre community, amirite?)
Try starting on a drop spindle - they're cheap, portable, and that makes it easier to get started, I think. That way you can easily start without a lot of upfront cost, and you can do it wherever. If you're anything like me, you'll be so stoked that you will take it with you everywhere- to the park for your lunch break, to the farmers market, etc
If you do start on a drop spindle - try the "park and draft" method first, just to get your bearings. You start by sitting down and over-spinning so that you don't have to do the downward motion + draft (aka pull the fibre through your fingers) at the same time. Here's a video that might help get you started.
If you have long hair, tie it up before you start, or you might spin your hair into it.... (not that i did this or anything)
Speaking of hair ties, have a couple on hand, they're really useful for tucking the excess fibre into on your left wrist so that you don't accidentally get too much fibre all mixed up in your work before you're ready to draft it.
Get some roving if you can, it's a little easier to work with than a raw fleece (at least for me so far) and there's minimal processing that you need to do before you can start working with it.
Try not to have clammy hands - I've felted some bits of my wool because I have perpetually clammy hands- I've not worked out a fix for this yet.... I'll update this if I get any advice on this.
Want to Ply? Look up: Andean Plying Bracelet for a simple way to get the fibre off your hand and plied! I think it's pretty amazing that you can make a plied yarn with nothing but your hands and the drop spindle.
Just start! It doesn't even matter if it's lumpy and weird and over-plied. It'll all work out. Wash your skeins when you're done, and that'll help even that shit out.

I'm thoroughly loving spinning - and I'm not seeing this love/obsession changing at any point. If you want to get started and need a hand, I'm happy to help! I can try giving a lesson over skype (or in person, if you're Aus based!) and I'll do my best to help you out. Shoot me an email at hello@closeknit.com.au if you wanna chat spinning :)

Ani

HOW TO :: (NOT A HOW TO) Improvise a Quilt

April 21, 2016 by Ani Lee in Learning As I Go

A few weeks ago, I made a quilt. Well, kind of. It's a wonky mess, that's not finished "correctly", but it is technically a "quilt" and I slept with it on my bed last night, and it didn't fall apart, so I'm calling it a quilt.

I went into this whole quilt-making thing not wanting to follow any rules, any tutorials. I was in a mood and I was just not having any of that. I was not about to cut anything straight, measure anything, do any math. I just wanted to make. the. thing. damnit.

Here's what I did:

Step 1. Take a bunch of old sheets and pillowcases - doesn't matter how many, I used 2 pillowcases that were different colours, a big flowery sheet, and a double bed fitted sheet. If, like me, you're using a sheet with elastic in it, rip that shit out. Seriously just make a cut with some scissors and then rip it out.

Step 2. Rip up your sheets/pillowcases. Doesn't matter the size, or if they match or anything. Maybe keep one that's reasonably big to use as the backing for the quilt. I basically ripped a double bed sheet in half (roughly) to get the backing for my quilt.

Step 3. Lay those ripped up pieces out in front of you and start jigsawing them together. Bonus points if - like me- you tried to do this on your bed and accidentally pinned through your sheets a lot

Step 4. Pin your pieces into place once you roughly have the look and size quilt face that you want - it doesn't have to be perfect here, I left a few spots that I filled in later with bits to fit the quilt backing that I'd made. I decided to fold my pieces over so that there weren't raw edges, but raw edges would be cool, too (I guess you'd just have to worry about the seams coming apart after a while)

HOT TIP (which I learned after I made mine, of course): try using safety pins instead of regular pins when you're pinning your quilt pieces together so that they don't just all fall out when you go try to sew it.

Step 5. Sew your quilt top! start wherever the hell you want. I know I did. There's probably an easier way to figure out where to start, but I don't know it.

Step 6. If your seams are so wonky that they cause a whole part of your quilt to get all billowy and floppy, just fold that bit over and make it an "accent" - make it work, right?

Step 7. with right sides facing (this is the only time that a rule matters) sew your quilt backing to your quilt face - now you've got a lil quilt cover-y thing that you can slide some batting into.

Step 8. Go buy some batting - and maybe measure your quilt before you go - that way you're not wasting money/batting. Bring your batting home. Cut your batting (probably don't try to rip it, that probably wouldn't work out well) to just under the size of your quilt - I didn't measure, I eyeballed.

Step 9. With your quilt cover thingy right sides out, slide the batting inside. Trim if it doesn't fit inside. I had to. Then once it does (roughly) fit inside, pin it in a couple place so that it stays put.

Step 10. Make some cross marks with pins (or don't) and just start hand sewing little x's every so often to hold the quilt in place. I guess mine ended up somewhere around 10cm apart - but again, screw measuring.

Step 11. Sew up the top of the quilt either by hand or by machine.

Step 12. Admire your wonky ass quilt.

You've just improvised a quilt! Sorry in advance to all the real quilters who actually know what they're doing - let's just call this thing a "how to that's not really a how to".

Thoughts On Sweater Knitting - The Good, Bad, and Ugly

February 03, 2016 by Ani Lee in What's On My Needles

Each Week (more or less), I'll share a quick (or sometimes not quick) snippet of what I'm currently working on, no matter how small (or rough) it is.

A couple of weeks ago, I was farmsitting up at Nan's, and I knew I needed a big project to work on. I'd been eyeballing the Lila pullover for some time, and just needed a sweater's quantity of wool. That's where Nan came in - generously letting me take some luscious White Gum for this sweater (!!). Marlee of Have Company happened to be on the same wave length as I was, so we started our sweaters around the same time and kept each other up-to-date on progress using our lil' hashtag #crosspacificknitclub.

It was a fun and eye-opening process - knitting this sweater, making mistakes, slowly fixing them, seeing Marlee's sweater progress, loving her sweater, suddenly feeling very inferior and slow. It was a process in self-care and weird competitive vibes for sure.

The anxiety and jealousy vibes I was feeling made me ashamed. I didn't want to feel these things, because knitting a sweater shouldn't invoke those feelings, and Marlee had been nothing but incredible supportive the whole way through (read: ALL the moral support when I was majorly confused about short rows and concerned I'd made a sweater for a giant).

So I stepped back from the sweater for a day or two, mostly because my hands were starting to hurt (early onset arthritis, anyone?), and took a little time to reflect on those feelings. I think they stem from a really deep-seated desire I feel to compete, to be instantly gratified, and get validation on the interwebs. The more I took a hard look at those feelings, the more ridiculous they started to seem. And when I finally verbalised them to a friend, I realised how utterly useless they were. Since I'd gotten my petty feelings out in the open, I could actually move into making this sweater happen, and do it with focus and good intentions.

After that, I finished knitting it, was feeling pretty happy with it, and then went to block it (because, ya know, trying to be a "good" knitter"). Then the shit hit the fan because it looked as though it had stretched waaaay out. So there I was, on the bathroom floor scrunching and squeezing and hoping it wasn't 7 sizes too big. And it took over 2 days to dry, so I was a hot mess for 2 days wondering if I'd just made a sweater for a pregnant human.

Turns out I was overreacting and it was a pretty good fit afterall.

Lessons learned - try to be less critical of myself when knitting (even if I'm slow AF), trust in the magic of blocking, and trust in the magic of internet friendship and KALs (knit-a-longs) to keep you honest, grounded, and supported. Oh, and grey is remarkably challenging to photograph - that was the other (much less profound) lesson learned.

Ani

Learning As I Go - On Self-Acceptance

December 19, 2015 by Ani Lee in Learning As I Go

The 'Learning As I Go' series invites you to take a peek behind the curtain. Each month, I'll be posting thoughts on life, crafting, pursuing passions, and the messes I make along the way. I hope you'll join me on this journey of mine.

For the first post in this series, I wanted to talk about something I find difficult to talk about. Silly as that may sound, my hope is that in sharing this, however inarticulately, it might help others on their journey with self-acceptance, wherever they may be .

Now, let me tell you, I am far from being all "I love me, I love myself, I don't need anybody else" (sorry for the ridiculous reference there), but I'm getting better at accepting the parts of myself I used to feel really ashamed of.

I think it started in high school, my being cognisant of my difference, that is. I didn't really feel like going out, partying, drinking. And at first I think it stemmed from this weird place of judgement. I think I liked feeling "above" people for not partaking in activities I saw as bad or unhealthy. And this stemmed from my school environment - 200 of the same students, more or less, for 12 years. I couldn't break out of this "goodie-two-shoes-stick-up-her-ass" image people had in their heads. So that's what I was - a goodie-goodie. But I wasn't feeling myself that whole time.

Fast-forward to university, and things were feeling a bit better. I found like-minded friends, strong, athletic, tender women who raised each other up. But still, there was this nagging feeling. Every Friday and Saturday night, my co-op would boom with loud music, friends and acquaintances would run down the hallways, screaming til the wee hours of the morning. And sure, there were times that I was that person. My face painted, high heels on, I was running up and down the halls, dancing til my feet felt like they were going to fall off.

But something about that never felt right. I would often drag myself to parties, only to leave 30 minutes later, feeling deflated and honestly just sad. I'd pity myself and reflect on how "boring" I was, how different I felt to everyone else my age. I'd try to shake it off and poke fun at myself, saying I was an 80-year-old in a 21-year-old's body - but I'd mostly say that just to make the joke before someone else could.

There was one night that I had a moment of peace with it all. I was walking down "frat row" - the street that had all of the sororities and fraternities (aka party central) - as it was the fastest route from my co-op to my partner's house. I looked around at all the people, drunk and stumbling, giggling and singing. I'd just finished performing at an African Dance concert, and I was feeling alive. And in that space of contentment, I thought maybe I'm more like everyone else than I had believed. Maybe we're just all looking for ways to have fun, ways to be happy. And for me, that's dancing in an ensemble, knitting alone on my couch, singing in my shower. And for others, that's dancing the night away, imbibing, living wildly. And we're both right. Neither of us is doing things wrong, we're all just trying things on to see what fits us.

Maybe we're all just learning as we go.