Flint Knits

You know how some people are just good to knit for?

Well, maybe we should address first those people who aren’t. Those people who get a handmade gift and set it aside or stuff it in a drawer; who don’t recognize the love and labor that went into it. Or who grumble that it’s not as good — as perfectly symmetrical or as neatly pressed or as easily washable — as a machine-made store-bought version.

Fuck those people. Never make them anything else, ever again. They do not deserve it.

But then there’s the people who not only (1) recognize what it takes (the expense, the thoughtfulness, the hours of your labor creating hundreds of tiny stitches, or seams, or bits of glued macaroni) to make and share handmade gifts, but also (2) really, really appreciate it. Those are the people you just want to keep giving stuff to.

Do it. They deserve it.

Years ago, my fabulous friend Michelle was so excited when I made her a simple garter-stitch scarf that she blurted out, “Oh my god it looks like you got it at K-Mart!” Which was her hilarious way of saying that she was impressed. Okay, maybe you have to know Michelle to understand how that’s a compliment — she’s kind of a weirdo. But the point is that, since then, I’ve made her a bunch of stuff, and will continue to make her bunches of stuff until she tells me to knock it off. Because she’s just one of those people that it’s a joy to make stuff for.

And so is my brother-in-law, Nate. Two years ago, I made him a colorwork hat with a secret Star Wars-themed lining and, when I gave it to him, I swear to freaking Yoda that he was so jazzed that he teared up a little. And then wore it around the house all day. Seriously, dude? That wins you handknits for LIFE. So the following year, I gave him a photograph for Christmas.

This is hockey legend George Hay, who played Detroit hockey in the 1920s and 30s. He played for the Cougars before they became the Falcons, and the Falcons before they became the Red Wings. And — the important part for me — he and his teammates wore some seriously badass sweaters.

14 months later, I mailed this to Nate in Denver.

pattern: Seamless Hybrid, from Elizabeth Zimmermann’s Knitting Without Tears
yarn: Louet Riverstone (from Hello Yarn), and Cascade 220
[raveled]

There’s not much I can say about the simplicity or perfectness of Zimmermann’s pattern that hasn’t already been said by Caro or Jared or — in a post that might make you cry — JulieFrick. I just added some stripes and block letters into the mix.

The Wings are headed to Denver soon to play the Avalanche. And Nate will be at the game wearing his sweater, even if, when it shows up at his door tomorrow, it turns out to be 3 sizes too big or too small, or the wool makes him break out in an itchy rash, or Mail Moths from outer space gnawed it to pieces in transit. Because that’s just the kind of dude he is. And why there’s loads of handmade prezzies in his future.

NOTE: Big, big thanks to Julia and Adrian for sharing their dye-setting wisdom — they two formed a thin woolly line between Nate and a blotchy pink sweater.

ANOTHER NOTE: ATTN: NATE! HAND WASH! COLD WATER! LAY FLAT TO DRY!

I’ve been hard at work on a research/writing project for the last two weeks. After 10-hour days at the library, my brain has been either too fried or too over-stimulated to sleep right away. So each night, I’d spend a couple of hours before bed watching tv-on-dvd and knitting. And before I knew it, I had sweater!

I cast on for this sweater in March, and it started out as my Zombie Knitting. You know, that giant tube of stockinette-in-the-round that you can work on in darkened movie theatres or on bumpy bus rides? The project you don’t actually have to look at while you’re knitting? So I’d pull it out once in a while, work an inch or two of the body, and put it away.

But once I got to the colorwork and the sleeves, I couldn’t set it down.

It’s a classic Norwegian-y sweater, with drop shoulders and steeked armholes.

Here’s a glimpse of the steeking process: sew, cut, seam.

This is the first time I’ve done Norwegian-style machine-sewn steeks, and I have to say I prefer the flexibility and precision of Fair Isle steeks. And no, these particular machine-sewn steeks aren’t the prettiest (I probably shouldn’t have done them at midnight after one of those 10-hour days), but such was the irresistible pull of this project. I was driven to finish.

pattern: Elizabeth Zimmermann’s “Norse Sweater” from The Opinionated Knitter
yarn: Ella Rae Classic wool
needles: 4.5mm DPNs, and 24″ and 16″ circulars
[Raveled]

I also discovered that Ella Rae Classic is great for colorwork projects: wooly, affordable, thinner than Patons merino, fuzzier than Cascade 220, and it took spit-splices like a hot, slobbery dream.

Here’s a full-on modeled shot:

And a look at the innards, for those of you who care about that sort of thing:

I’m not sure I like how the drop shoulder works for a sweater this close-fitting. The sleeve facings get a bit cumbersome under the arms, which wouldn’t be an problem in the roomier fit you usually see with this style. If I were to knit another worsted-weight sweater with steeked armholes, I think I’d use a finer yarn for the facings to cut down on bulk.

According to The Opinionated Knitter (probs one of the greatest knitting resources of All Time), EZ named this motif “Siwash” because the swirls seem to spell out that word. But I recognized “siwash” as a racist slur that comes from the French word for “savage.” So of course I immediately went into research mode.

I learned that Native folks in Vancouver have a long tradition of fiber arts, and have been knitting a particular style of big heavy sweater for over a century–they even raised and herded wool dogs before European colonizers brought sheep to North America. Whites started calling these sweaters “siwash sweaters,” and kept calling them that for a long time (i.e. well into Zimmermann’s time). Today we know them as Cowichan sweaters, named for the Cowichan First Nations. Then Michele told me about a great documentary called The Story of the Coast Salish Knitters, which I snagged through interlibrary loan. People of the Coast Salish First Nations of southern Vancouver Island were the original Cowichan sweater knitters, and the film tells the story of three generations of crafters. It’s well worth tracking down.

While EZ’s simple pattern may be inspired by Cowichan sweaters, you should definitely check out what an actual, amazing, authentic Cowichan sweater looks like. They’re pricey, yeah, but as knitters, we know how much labor goes into this kind of artwork. And buying them supports Cowichan First Nations artists and crafters. I wonder what it would take to convince every douchebag who ever bought a sweatshop-made $1000 cashmere sweater from some corporate designer label to buy one of these pretty babies instead … ?

If you haven’t entered the contest for the woolgirl.com gift certificate, there’s still time! Go! Go!

Big thanks for all the kind responses to the February Lady Sweater!

If you’re interested in making a version that’s more faithful to Elizabeth Zimmerman’s original, several folks have made larger versions of the original baby sweater, by doing some serious math. I mentioned Jenny’s in my last post (could she be any cuter?), and you should also check out this super-gorgeous version. In fact, I just found out that Ravelry has a whole discussion going on about how to re-work the math for an adult size, with a few pictures of finished ones. (Shoulda known–there’s a Ravelry thread for everything.) And someone even made a grown-up version just by using superbulky yarn and the original pattern.

EZ’s original baby sweater is, of course, fucking brilliant in its construction. It has a lot of increases over a small number of rows, to create a rounded shape that will suit a wee baby’s round body. The pattern I wrote, on the other hand, is just a basic top-down raglan. This construction means that, instead of fitting a baby’s round body, it’s made to be fitted across an adult’s shoulders and upper back, then drape all swingy-like down from the bust (yeah, no, I could not get a job writing for J. Peterman). If you’re familiar with top-down raglan construction, you really don’t even need the pattern, just this one-sentence command: “knit a top-down raglan using EZ’s gull stitch pattern, with a row of 40-45 increases just above the bust.”

Finally, some folks have emailed because they’ve had problems making the raglan increases work. The issue seems to be around the phrase, “mark the next stitch.” This is not the same as “place a marker.” Rather, you mark the next stitch you knit. You can either place a marker on either side of that stitch, or slide a split ring marker through the knitted stitch, so that you know to put a m1 increase on either side of it for the raglan shaping. If you’re good at reading your knitting, you don’t even need a marker–just increase on either side of the same stitch each time. Hope this helps! (I’ll also go clarify in the pattern itself.)

I do actually have other knitting projects, too! I just started a pair of Sandra’s Charade socks in some Wollmeise sockenwolle that Kris sent me a while back.

But I’m not sure I love the striping. Should I embrace the striping? Or frog it and find a better pattern/yarn match? I beg you, be ruthless in your advice

**UPDATE! A LIST OF COMMON MODIFICATIONS TO THE FEBRUARY LADY SWEATER PATTERN IS NOW AVAILABLE HERE.**

As soon as I finished knitting Elizabeth Zimmermann’s Baby Sweater on Two Needles (more commonly known as the “February Baby Sweater”) for my niece, I thought, “I need that sweater.” Not for any other babies I know (and I seem to know an awful lot these days), but for me me me.(If you don’t already own Zimmermann’s Knitter’s Almanac, you should. It’s the best $7 you will ever spend on a knitting book. For reals.)

Jenny was steps ahead of me, and had already made her own “giant” version, in baby pink. But I wondered if there was a way to make it more fitted on top, so the whole thing had a kind of 50s a-line shape to it. Enter the top-down raglan cardigan—the easiest sweater structure known to knitterkind.

I started with basic raglan shaping for the collar and yoke, then stuck in a row of eyelet increases just above the bust to add fullness all the way around. (I may still make an icord with pom-poms on the ends, and thread it through the eyelets, like so.)

And ended up with my new favorite sweater.

yarn: Sundara Worsted Merino in Green Over Ochre
needles: 5mm circular
buttons: 7/8″ wooden

Want to make your own? Sweet! I wrote up a free pattern.

[ravelry link]

YARN: approximately 750 (850, 950, 1050, 1150) yards of worsted weight yarn. This lace pattern is especially lovely in semi-solid yarns—I used Sundara Worsted Merino in “Green Over Ochre.”

NEEDLES:
• US 8 (5mm) 32” circular needle, or size needed to get gauge
• US 8 (5mm) double-pointed needles, or size needed to get gauge

GAUGE: 18 stitches / 4” in garter stitch

FINISHED BUST SIZE: 35 (37.5, 41, 41, 44, 49.5, 52.5) inches (bust is the same for S and M, but sleeves are 1.75” larger on size M)

A note on sizing: You can easily make this cardigan smaller or larger by casting on fewer or more stitches at the beginning, and/or doing fewer or more raglan increases—just be sure that your final stitch counts for the sleeves and body are a multiple of 7 so that the stitch pattern works.

My raglan math (such as it is) owes a great debt to Barbara Walker’s Knitting From the Top, and to Laura’s fabulous (and free!) “Easy and Top Down” pattern.

All mistakes are, of course, my own—bring them to my attention at flintknits@gmail.com.

Wow, has it really been a month since my last post? Oh, but the semester! It is almost over! I’m into the home stretch now, with just a stack of exams to grade and some final math to do.

And even though I’ve been feeling like the semester wasn’t very productive in the academic/professional sense, when I think about all I did, it’s kind of exciting: teach two new classes; finish and submit an article for publication; re-construct a draft of one of the lost chapters of my dissertation; go to two conferences… I am quite not as lazy as I thought! Or at least, not as unproductive.

But now there are 857 (857!) unread blog posts in my Bloglines. I love you all, but I’m taking three precious words of advice from Laura, who heard them once from Rachel: “Mark. All. Read.”

Done.

And moving on. As soon as you all gave your input about the best baby knits (thanks again!), I started another Baby Surprise Jacket.

The Twisted yarn is fantastic to work with. Meg hand-dyes it here in Michigan, and there’s always a massive pile of it at Threadbear Fiber Arts in Lansing (seriously. massive. I call it Twisted Mountain). It’s one of my favorite indie self-stripers, because she does several different styles of striping/fading, and because it comes in heavier weights, along with the sock yarn.

(Also, I think she just updated her shop. So, go!)

I alternated between the self-striper and a solid brown merino, then did the trim and edges in brown. If it’s possible, I might be even happier with this BSJ than I was with my last one.

But I’ve also bought another supply of Hello Yarn Fat Sock, so a third is definitely on the way.

p.s. these photos were taken in November, after the first snow of the year. There’s not a trace of any of this greenery (or ground) left. Happy Winter to those of you in my part of the world!