A night at the Opera House - Tori Amos

Finally, the night I'd been looking forward to for months arrived yesterday. I got to wear my Myrtle Leaf shawl to the Sydney Opera House to see my long time love, Tori Amos.



This photo was taken by Ailsa of Knitabulous, just before we went in and it's my favourite. The shawl and the Opera House.

Here's another one that turned out well, this time with the Harbour bridge. This feels a bit like a Tourism board post but what the hell, if you can't make the most of the venue and have a bit of fun then there's something wrong!



Earlier, when we were on our own, Sean took a few full length shots. The forecourt of the Opera House is a bit of a construction zone at the moment, probably because of Australian Idol.



He didn't get the shoes in but I was wearing my favourite red heels. All in all, I loved having something so elegant to wear to such a spectacular venue. What fun to dress up! I don't do it often enough.

So, about the show. Probably there aren't many readers who know or even love Tori Amos like I do but if you love music, or if you've followed an artist's work for a long time, I'm sure my feelings and thoughts will resonate for you. By her own admission, she's like anchovies. She's not popular. But if you get her, it's an incredible ride.

I was struck while listening to Tori, who is touring the country solo, that when you've loved an artist for the better part of eighteen years, sitting through a two hour performance is really an exercise in reliving those years, and your own story, sonically.

Tori has been the cornerstone for me, in terms of music, since I was twenty. Finding her first album, Little Earthquakes, was one of those defining moments. In 1992 I was struggling deeply with Christianity and trying to work out all sorts of stuff about navigating my way from adolescence to adulthood. Little Earthquakes, I'm certain, showed me some of the way. I don't think it's overstating the case to say that. She's a writer and songs can be as illuminating as any writing.

Her voice, the piano, the artful storytelling all combine to make a musical experience that has kept me riveted for many, many years. I think deep loyalty to an artist means that you commit to growing with that artist as she grows, even if sometimes her work goes in directions that seem baffling. You can't ask an artist to still be writing the same songs she was writing when she was in her twenties. The songs she's writing now are lightyears from what she wrote in the early nineties and she's an amazing example of how women can grow older and still be creative, passionate and evocative forces in modern music. She continually provides vision, strength, honesty and ultimately sublime music all wrapped in one amazing package.

And that, really, is why I cling to her. She's been there through all the important phases in my life, sharing the stories, expressing just what I need to hear at just the right time. There was the faith crisis, the difficult pathway into adulthood, the relationship breakups, the journey to self awareness, the miscarriages, the yearning for motherhood, and the artistic development. I'm not a song writer but I'm creative and she remains for me a symbol of what it means to embrace your creativity and in the words of Joseph Campbell, how to follow your bliss.

It was wonderful to dress up, go out with Sean and some friends and spend an evening in a truly amazing concert hall in the presence of a great and, to me, incredibly inspiring woman.

Flickr set with more photos here.

Bells

Blogtoberfest Day 24: Myrtle Leaf Shawl with Willow Border

Today a bunch of friends joined Dr K in the glorious Southern Highlands for her birthday lunch. A little village called Burrawang, with a stone cottage for a pub. RoseRed has some lovely photos. So does Miss Fee.

While there, showering Kylie with birthday gifts and affection, we had a little fun doing a photo shoot for my finished Myrtle Leaf Shawl with Willow Border. We tried hard to emulate the photos from Victorian Lace Today because, well, why not. In a setting as green and English gardenesque as this, you sort of have to, I think.



If you know the book, these might make you smile.



So this is one of those projects that takes forever and pays off in the end by being every bit as delicate and beautiful and ultimately triumphant as you could hope a piece of knitted lace could be. I really don't think it gets better than the feeling I've got from having finished this. It's not just relief. I don't even feel in mourning for it being over. I just feel so pleased!



And getting to drape it around my shoulders and have a bit of fun playing with Dr K as photographer and George as stylist was just the icing on the cake.



Myrtle was started on the Australia Day weekend in late January and I did put her down for quite a long time while I got on with more practical knits, so really, I think she took seven months all up. It's the kind of project that I think, if I focused, could have been done in three months. I vow next time not to let a big piece of lace drag on because near the end, it does all become a bit of a burden as the desire to work on something new takes hold.

All black is not easy. I think I suffered a fair amount of eye strain as I tried to get through it. The pattern itself is not hard. It's a two sided pattern, which was my first time of doing such a thing, so with no rest rows, it's fairly intensive, but there's nothing overtly challenging once you settle in.

Knitting on the border was a bit of a challenge at first but once I was in the swing of it, it took about three weeks.

The yarn is JaggerSpun Zephyr Wool-Silk 2/18 and it's just stunning. I'd use it again and again. In black. In any colour. It's the nicest laceweight yarn I've used.



Sure, she's not the kind of shawl I'm going to get to wear every day, but I have plenty of everyday shawls. This one's for special moments, like next month when I get all dressed up to see Tori Amos at the Opera House. That'll be just the right night.

Bells

Persistence pays off

As I mentioned in my last post, I was really struggling with the border of my Myrtle Leaf shawl. If you don't know this pattern, or the book it comes from, here is an image from the book, Victorian Lace Today.


It's a long shawl. By the time I finished the forty leaf pattern repeats, it was, unstretched, taller than me (I'm short, but that's still a hell of a lot of black lace by anyone's standards!). But the body of the pattern was not the end of it. Oh no, not by a long shot.

What follows the main body of the knitting is what some have called the arduous task of knitting on the Willow border. I didn't read the instructions for it until I was ready to do it and with the benefit of hindsight, 6:30am on a Sunday morning when I was not in the most happy or confident of moods was probably an unwise time to try and come to terms with something that seemed a bit daunting.

But with fresh eyes and more than a few helpful comments, plus email discussion with a couple of helpful people, I made it. Last night, I sat at the dining room table, under good light, with the lap top beside me, the book open in front of me and I gave it a go. Here's what it looks like now.



The verticle line of large holes is where the border connects to the body. The border is only eight stitches wide, and the wrong side rows are just purl rows, so once you get going it flies along nicely. I'd like for this not to drag on for an eternity, so I'm going to plug away as consistently as time and alertness allow.

I'm not sure I know what was so hard now. It's true there are a few lines in the instructions that seem kind of odd and unhelpful. I wish Jane Sowerby didn't write that this was unorthodox border because it's not, in essence, that different to the border I learned to do through Elizabeth Zimmermann. I expected it, after that statement, to be radically different and it wasn't. Not really.

Now that I can do it, I wonder what I made all the fuss over, but I suppose that's what learning is all about. What was difficult soon becomes commonplace and easy. Or easier.

All I need to do now is knit the thing.

Bells

Myrtle. Twelve Weeks From Here.

As I've been recovering from all this illness and working steadily on my Myrtle Leaf shawl, I've been pondering where one goes with a new, beautiful piece of lace.



She's not finished yet and she won't be for some weeks, but it's lovely to look into the future, imagine yourself draped in black silk and going somewhere special, and make a few plans.

In a cafe yesterday afternoon, bathed in winter sunlight, I worked on Myrtle while Sean and I drank coffee and tea. I said to him I thought Myrtle ought to get to go out when she's done. Somewhere special. I began to imagine a nice restaurant or even just a walk somewhere beautiful for some dramatic photos and then it hit me.

In November, exactly twelve weeks from today, we've got a big night out coming up. Tori Amos, a woman whose work I have loved often to the near exclusion of all others for 18 years, is touring again and on 16 November she'll be playing the Sydney Opera House.



The last time we saw her there was a beautiful evening in 2005. We drank champagne overlooking Sydney Harbour and went inside shortly after for a truly spectacular performance, during which I'm not ashamed to say I cried.

In November we'll see here there again and at least two other knitters I know are going to the same show. Ailsa and Jody. The venue, the friends, the music all mean that I must work hard to get Myrtle done by then - I imagine she'll be finished well in advance, but she'll have her debut that night.

I simply can't wait.

Bells

Time Travel

As a child I longed to be able to travel through time. I'm not a sci-fi geek, just a lover of what as children we probably all called 'the olden days.'

I know there'd be no running hot water, no central heating and none of a whole bunch of other conveniences, but I can't escape the fantasy, even as an adult, that it would be so much fun to break through time and find out what it was like to be, say, a woman in Victorian England.

I have a shelf full of young adult and children's fiction about girls and boys who got to find a way into the past and even a few adult books on the same subject (hello, Diana Gabaldon!) which are nice little worlds I retreat into sometimes when I want to indulge the fantasy.

At other times, I'm just happy to read literature from the periods I love best, or lose myself in those gorgeous, wonderful literary adaptations (or costume drama as it's so often called now) that seem to take up a lot of space in my DVD collection. 

And what's even better is finding something to knit that is in some way contemporary. Lately, I've been reading Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford, which is full of treats for the knitter. Discussions of the procurement of shetland wool, the wonders of lace and the frequent mention of 'worsted work', which I initially thought was perhaps knitting in heavier weighted wool but is in fact a kind of needlework. 

To that end, I've spent the last day and a half sheltering from the heat by a fan, with cold drinks and my Myrtle Leaf shawl while watching a borrowed copy of the recent adaptation of Cranford. It's the story of a fictional small village in the north of England in the mid-19th century. It's a fabulous cast, bursting with names such as Dame Judi Dench, Dame Eileen Atkins and a whole host of faces you'll recognise if you've watched anything by the BBC in the last two decades. 

I'm disappointed to say the writers didn't include all the knitting in the adaptation, although there is a scene or two which focuses on a piece of lace which is reputed to be so fine because it was made by nuns (who have plenty of time to concentrate, given they don't speak much). I'm also disappointed to see very few knitted shawls. 

As an aside, I'm also listening to Thomas Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbevilles at the moment and it seems every other page contains someone throwing a knitted shawl over their shoulders. I sure hope the new adaptation is chock full of country women wearing knitted shawls when I finally get to see it.

Nevertheless, I have wrapped myself happily in this sumptuous depiction of Victorian rural life and worked on my shawl which is just about the most joyful lace experience I've had to date. I love it. Love it, love it, love it. But it's only good for day work. Can't manage the black lace in the evenings very well, so I'm making the most of it this week while I'm not at work.

Isn't she lovely, my Myrtle? I've had to tink back a few times but on the whole, I'm in a groove now and simply can't imagine anything I'd rather be knitting. Obsessed? Just a little. Happy? Oh yes! I'm not sure it gets better than this.



I took a break from the DVDs only for a moment to write this. Next, I'm heading into another Mrs Gaskell novel - Wives and Daughters. I've done my chores for the day. I'm free now to do as I like.

Cranford airs on ABC 1 soon, if you're local and that way inclined. I'll be watching it again.

Bells

Swatching the Moment

Thank you so very much for the care and concern and kindness in light of the loss our dear friend, Mick. Sean doesn't often hang out here checking the comments, but I know he did today. Very kind. Thank you. Now we just have to make it to Friday afternoon when we will really say goodbye - and Sean will give a eulogy. A big day for him.

***
Today there was post on Gidgetknits about knitting through the inauguration ceremony for President Obama (oh how magical that sounds!). Both RoseRed and I were suitably inspired and agreed to do the same tonight, watching the ceremony. I didn't end up rewatching it. I actually got up at 3:30am to watch it live - I wasn't sleeping well last night anyway and loved every moment.

But tonight as my 'tribute' if you like, I cast on a swatch for something new and watched the news and thought about the great and important change that's taken place. I truly think it began in some way with our own nation getting ride of John  Howard in 2007. It was a sign of things getting better.

So instead of Knitting the Moment, as Gidget and RoseRed did, I swatched the moment. 

Here is my 'mini' Myrtle leaf shawl from Victorian Lace Today. I think I'm in love. She's a little wonky, but that's what swatching is for, to figure out the wonk.



This weekend, I'm starting this shawl with Kylie when I and a few other knitterly people hang out at her house for the long weekend. We chose the black yarn last year and promised we'd knit it together, starting on the Australia Day long weekend. Now that I've swatched, I just can't wait.

Bells

Great Expectations

For Christmas, Sean bought me two books I have long wanted to own. 

Victorian Lace Today

and A Gathering Of Lace.

These are both books I pick up again and again in bookshops and at friend's houses. I've gone over and over patterns on Ravlery, seeing how others have made them and I have dreamt of great and wonderful projects I want to make. 

Since opening them on Christmas morning to great surprise (I knew Victorian Lace Today was coming, but A Gathering of Lace was a surprise he thought of all by himself) I've devoured each of them, dreaming, planning, scheming.

Eventually, once all the busy stuff was over, I set about casting on. I could bore you with the process of arriving at a decision but I won't, except to say it was not easy. I was quite literally suffering from an excess of choice and each choice seemed loaded with, well, difficulty. 

I know, I know, how hard can it be? Pick a pattern, find some yarn, cast on. 

Wrong.

See, I really think I am my own worst enemy. I build things up to such an extent that the moment can't actually live up to the expectation. All through the Christmas knitting of November and December, I knew this moment was coming. I had the special yarn selected and I saw myself floating in a sea of quiet days and delicate stitches. 

So far, I have cast on and ripped out three items. Casting on itself is part of the problem. Casting on in lace, if you've not done it, isn't easy. I don't like it. To me they are flabby, clumsy pieces of work and I get upset. 

Rather amusingly, when I was googling for alternative methods last night, I came up with a post by Samurai Knitter Julie which was actually written for me, and I'd forgotten about it. Sean found that highly amusing - that I googled a technique and found a post written just for me.

Julie wrote about the long tail provisional cast on and what do you know, it works! 

Now if I could just get through a first repeat of the Curved Shawl with Diamond Edging without screwing it up, I'd be ok. 

Three hours work today and I have this.


It was going well until I hit the end of the first repeat and realised I'm seven stitches short. Also, more so than any other lace I've ever knit, it looks butt ugly. I know it'll probably look marvellous once it's blocked, by my God knitting lace is sometimes such an act of faith. You have to believe it'll be incredible because you sure as hell can't see it during the knitting.

So once again, my ability to blow what was a nice plan into The Big Moment has hindered rather than helped me. You'd think I'd learn.

Maybe I'll go knit something plain for a while.

Bells