Recently when I was scanning my current projects, I realised that most of them are lace of some variety. Two of them are very fine, delicate lace. Two of them are less so. At that moment, the words of a knitter I knew very briefly a few years ago came back to haunt me. I knew her through a lunch time group of crafters who met in my department in 2005. It was short lived as a group, everyone drifting off after only a few months.
As I sat there in a sunny conference room we were using for our lunch time gatherings, this woman said to me, 'You're a plain knitter, Helen, aren't you?'
Was I? I hardly knew. I looked down at my project. I recall it was a vest (I made quite a few in 2005). It was bright green, Patons Bluebell, acres of stocking stitch. I suppose it was plain. But what did she mean?
Was it a put down of my work? Or simply a comment? To this day I don't really know but I took it as a slight on my skills at the time. I was still new. Of course I was going to be doing plain stuff. What on earth could I do to change it? And did I want to?
I was knitting garments. Garments I was wearing with pride. To me that was the epitome of what I hoped for from my knitting. I had no idea yet of doing anything like socks, or lace! I doubt I even knew you could do such a thing. The thought of it! I grew up watching my mum make cardigans and jumpers we all wore for years. Nearly always stocking stitch, garter stitch or rib. Good, proper, plain but beautiful knitting. I was simply doing what I thought knitters did.
The woman's words haunted me when I was going over my lace projects and I wondered if instead of seeing what she said as a slight, I could see it as a starting point for when I began to try and do bigger, bolder things. Maybe. Maybe not. I think it was quite some time before I began to expand. I hadn't found knitting on the internet in 2005. I didn't know people were out there doing amazing things, making incredible pieces in such clever ways. I only knew about my 'plain knitting.' I thought a bit of shaping for waists or shoulders was downright clever.
On the bus yesterday, I was working on a garter stitch bib for Baby Alice. Could it get more plain than a cotton, garter stitch bib? I ran my hands across the neat, even rows imagining when in a few days I'll put it around Alice's neck and watch her dribble pureed fruit or some such down it.
There's a place for plain knitting and it's beautiful and comforting and I won't ever stop doing it. For me it's always been about the stitches, neat rows stacked on top of each other making something wearable and wonderful. Plain or otherwise.
Bells
The woman's words haunted me when I was going over my lace projects and I wondered if instead of seeing what she said as a slight, I could see it as a starting point for when I began to try and do bigger, bolder things. Maybe. Maybe not. I think it was quite some time before I began to expand. I hadn't found knitting on the internet in 2005. I didn't know people were out there doing amazing things, making incredible pieces in such clever ways. I only knew about my 'plain knitting.' I thought a bit of shaping for waists or shoulders was downright clever.
On the bus yesterday, I was working on a garter stitch bib for Baby Alice. Could it get more plain than a cotton, garter stitch bib? I ran my hands across the neat, even rows imagining when in a few days I'll put it around Alice's neck and watch her dribble pureed fruit or some such down it.
There's a place for plain knitting and it's beautiful and comforting and I won't ever stop doing it. For me it's always been about the stitches, neat rows stacked on top of each other making something wearable and wonderful. Plain or otherwise.
Bells
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