A welcome blanket

Most of the time knitting is a solitary occupation. My friends and I often knit in company with one another, but it's not often that we are able to collaborate on a joint project. However, over the last few years there have been a number of babies born to this group of friends and we've developed a tradition of knitting blankets to welcome the new arrivals. This is the latest:



Kylie has written a great account of the project and the occasion on which it was given to Alison. As usual, the blanket involved numerous email discussions to decide on the project and organise the logistics of its making. I think this time we actually produced a 79 email thread! The yarn needed to be passed among the participants, and the finishing was done by several different people. My contribution, as well as knitting one of the colourful squares, was to knit the i-cord edging.



I think we are all very happy with the outcome. The pattern is the mitred crosses blanket from mason dixon knitting. The coloured parts are knitted in noro taiyo and the cream background is (the sadly discontinued) noro shirikaba. Both the taiyo and the shirikaba are mixtures of silk, cotton and wool and are an ideal texture and softness for a blanket.

Marking Chinese New Year in Young

I guess most countries have events in their history which are shameful by modern standards. In Australia we certainly have such incidents in the story of European settlement and its impact on Aboriginal Australians. More generally, the history of race relations in Australia since European settlement can unsettle and challenge many of today's more liberally-minded inhabitants. It's hard to know how to mark these events for modern-day Australians. You can't 'celebrate' actions that deny people equality on the basis of their race, but I think it is important to mark them and to acknowledge that these events have been part of our past and have shaped our present society.

I've been thinking about these matters because I visited the south-west NSW town of Young again to help my cousin sort and distribute the possessions of another cousin who died recently. We had some time to spare and decided to follow the sign to the Chinese Tribute Gardens that we'd passed many times on our way to and from our cousin's residence. I'd expected that the Gardens would in some way mark the 'riots' between Chinese and European goldminers in the mid-nineteenth century. Young began its history with the name 'Lambing Flat' and is infamous in modern Australian history for the 1861 conflict between Chinese and European miners who flocked to work the recently discovered gold deposits. There was a history of tension between Chinese and European miners in many goldfields across the 1850s and it is generally agreed that the conflict at Lambing Flat was the most violent and presented the greatest threat of civil unrest. The riot was in fact a number of attacks by European miners on the Chinese in the early part of 1861 that resulted in a police and military presence in Lambing Flat for a large part of 1861 and an uneasy truce with Chinese and European miners in segregated areas of the goldfields.

These events reflected many of the debates and tensions within parliament and the wider society and resulted in the passage in the NSW parliament of the Chinese Immigration Regulation and Restriction Act 1861 - a precursor of the infamous White Australia Policy.

Anyway, back to our visit to the Chinese Tribute Garden:



It was a lovely place to visit on a hot inland day - coincidentally at the time of Chinese New Year. There are some of the required elements of a Chinese garden - plants, water and rocks, though the garden misses the element of a pavilion or contemplative room. There's an arched bridge, a gateway, ducks and swans, and meandering walkways that frame the views. However, there's a spaciousness that I don't remember in any of the Chinese gardens I visited in China, and the bright blue sky and surrounding gum trees are of course very foreign to traditional Chinese gardens. But all in all, it's a real pleasure garden.


What surprised me was the information plaque at the entrance to the garden. No mention of the Lambing Flat riots. The plaque tells the history of the garden site. The small lake around which the garden is based is called 'Chinaman's Dam'. A creek was originally dammed by some European miners to facilitate alluvial mining and was later sold to a group of Chinese miners - hence the dam's name. Even this is a story of loss and dispossession for the Chinese miners. The sale was never formally registered and the land was resumed as Crown Land which it remains until today. The plaque goes on to say (without evident irony) that the garden is a tribute to the contributions over many generations that Chinese Australians have made to our history.

We also had time to visit the Lambing Flat Folk Museum in town and amid all the random elements of small-town historical museums (which in this particular case included my Auntie Mollie's exquisite cream-coloured satin wedding dress from the late 1930s) we found a detailed and dispassionate retelling of the story of the goldfields' conflict and the original roll-up banner under which European miners had marched on the Chinese miners.

I'm really not much further ahead with knowing how to mark such events in our history. But I do know we must continue to tell the stories, and we must realise that some of the vaunted events of our past - such as the Eureka Stockade or the events leading to Federation - were near neighbours and sometimes bedfellows of racist and unjust actions and laws.

Acts of knitterly kindness

When I returned to knitting about six years ago - anticipating the birth of my grand-daughter - I expected the pleasure I have always had in making something that I consider aesthetically pleasing with my hands. What I never expected to gain were the friendships and sociability that knitting has given to my life. Most weeks I meet at least once, and often more frequently, with knitting friends. These groups are informal, and people join and leave them. Some people I see frequently; others, because of work or family commitments, or travel, I see less frequently. But there's a core group of people who have been constant across the six years. Without particular effort we know about one anothers' lives and interests. What I particularly like is that these are people I might never have met, if it weren't for knitting. Most of them are much younger than I am and I'm constantly surprised and delighted by how much I've been welcomed by them. They keep me up to date with what's happening in the world - particularly its technological advances - and enable me to pretend I've at least heard about events in popular culture.

I've written before that what I particularly appreciate is the ease of these gatherings. I can chat, or hold forth (I hope not too often) or just sit and knit. They are companionable gatherings.

Recently, when I was incapacitated with my broken hip, a group of them also undertook an act of knitterly kindness. They gave me a beautifully packaged kit of yarn and pattern to make Brooklyn Tweed's Sempervivum shawl. I think you imagine that when you are recovering from something like a hip operation, which seems to bear no relation whatsoever to your hands and brain, that you will have lots of time for knitting. I discovered that I had the time, but not the inclination. It seems to take a lot of energy just to recover. But my friends are also deviously insightful when it comes to knitting. Several of them also decided we should have a knit-along (KAL) to encourage one another to finish the shawl.

Somewhat reluctantly, I cast on for the shawl when I came home from the rehabilitation hospital and knitted, with increasing pleasure, as the shawl grew and was finally finished.



This is a most ingenious pattern. The same lace motif continues across three different sizes, from the outer to inner edges of the shawl. However, there are some knitting challenges within this ingenious pattern. You cast on at the outer edge and so begin with more than 350 stitches. For a considerable time you knit and knit and seem to make little progress as the rows are so long. Then the middle-sized motifs involve knitting lace variations on every row - much more challenging than having a purl row 'rest' between rows of yarn overs and knitted togethers. By the time you get to the final section you've been through all the complicated stuff and there's a wonderful rush to finish.



The yarn is Brooklyn Tweed's Loft - a rather 'catchy' tweedy fingering weight yarn that I think results in a modern take on traditional lace shawl patterns. The colour is Button Jar. I gather there was a great deal of discussion among my friends about the most suitable colour. They certainly chose well. Such kind friends.



And a final thanks to Margarita for the great photos.

The familiarity of the past

I've been to Young, in central-west NSW, for a cousin's funeral. As I drove to Young I was acutely aware of the accuracy of the now-cliched description of Australia in Dorothea Mackellar's poem - that we are a country of 'droughts and flooding rains'. It was raining as I left Sydney and the radio was a constant flow of information about the imminent dangers from floods in Queensland and Northern NSW. But as I drove further west the country-side changed from green to the gold of stubbled paddocks and dried pasture-land.



The grey clouds of my photo brought only a few spots of rain. Not enough to please the farmers.

The cousin whose funeral I attended is the first of the cousins of my generation to die. It's a significant marker of passing time. He had a mild intellectual disability and had lived a sheltered, very private life. He was steadfast in his Catholic faith all his life, so that the requiem mass with its well-worn ritual and predictability seemed a perfect last marker of his life - even to an unbeliever such as I.

Afterwards there was tea and sandwiches (and later, beer and wine) and gossip among the cousins who are now spread around NSW and whose last catch-up with one another had been the funeral of an aunt from the previous generation of relatives. One of my cousins is compiling the family history of this part of my family and took us to see the gravestone of our earliest Australian ancestors in the Young cemetery.




Thomas (1807-1877) and Catherine Joyce (1811-1871), my great-great-grandparents, came from County Kilkenny in Ireland to join their three sons, Thomas, Edward and Patrick who had already settled near Young. I don't often catch up with members of my family of origin, but it's always very reaffirming of my past when I do.

New for old

For some time now - maybe a couple of years - I've been reading, and admiring, the Spirit Cloth blog. Its author is US textile artist Jude Hill who describes herself in this way:

My style is based on layers, the nature of cloth, redefining traditional techniques, unconventional cloth construction, mending and the relationship of sewing to weaving. I call myself an alternative quilter and a folk artist (if I have to use the word artist)

Jude Hill uses recycled textiles and her work has a patina of age and past histories.I like her refusal to be pigeon-holed by craft categories - 'weaving', 'patchwork' or 'embroidery' and her 'what if' approach to her work. Spirit Cloth is an extreme example of process-driven craft.

Over time there's been a very positive response to her work and she now offers on-line classes for some of her techniques. I've just taken up her class on cloth-to-cloth weaving which is one of her ways of working that delights me. She uses strips of textiles, mainly torn or roughly cut, to weave smallish blocks that can then be combined with other similar blocks to make quilts or table pieces or simply left as they are. The woven bases are embellished with further layers of woven cloth, applique, stitching or quilting. It's not a craft that rates highly on producing a useful outcome but, as I've already mentioned, the process is engaging.

I've been working on the base for my first block:



Jude Hill's use of recycled textiles comes from a deeply held anti-consumerist philosophy. While I admire her stance, I live my life differently. But I like the soft, worn quality of used textiles and I've always found it difficult to throw away clothes I've worn out - particularly when I've loved the fabrics. So, my block so far is made from the remnants of two old pairs of linen pants worn to holes, a stained and torn batik cloth I've had for decades, and backed by an old sheet from my mothers's house - torn, but saved because of its hem-stitched edging. I'll soon run out of fabrics I can recycle, so I imagine that if this interest continues I'll be visiting second-hand shops for suitable scraps.

Let's see where this takes me.

For my knitting friends - don't fear this means an abandonment of knitting. My Sempervivum shawl is currently blocking and I've just cast on for a new cardigan for my grand-daughter. I just have more time to fill with such activities than I used to have.

Purl and plain - in all sorts of combinations.

I was listening to Radio National Breakfast this morning when the presenter, John Doyle, had a brief, informal interview with the Prime Minister, Julia Gillard. They discussed the break she'd taken over the Christmas / New Year period and he asked the PM what she enjoyed doing in her 'down' time. She mentioned the pleasure she took in knitting.

John Doyle has the most ironic voice on radio - perhaps even in the entertainment business more generally. I never know when he is sending someone or something up or when (if ever) he is being serious. He compared her knitting to the leisure pastimes of previous PMs - Empire clocks and Mahler (Paul Keating), punting and sport (Bob Hawke) reading and history (Gough Whitlam). He commented that he really didn't get knitting as a hobby - though I'm not sure whether he was sending himself up with this comment.

Anyway, trust Julia Gillard to spring to the defence of knitting:

Being prime minister is a pretty stressful job. There’s a lot on your shoulders, you often get back at home late at night, and you’ve got to get some sleep, you can’t stay up pottering around for hours.'

The thing that’s good about the knitting is that it takes up enough of your attention that your mind can’t race at a million miles an hour, but it's repetitive and soothing, so it helps you transition from work.

She summed it up as 'purl and plain - in all sorts of combinations'.

I love the fact that we have a Prime Minister who is a knitter.

Knitting 2012

I'm running rather late with my knitting summary for 2012 and have chosen a rather strange day to write it. It's currently 42 degrees celsius (about 107 fahrenheit) in Sydney with a dry, hot wind. Not really the kind of day when knitting springs naturally to mind. But the new year inevitably brings with it thoughts of planning for the rest of the year and an implicit review of what was achieved in the past year. I have to conclude that I've achieved much less knitting than I hoped for. Fewer, and less significant items than in 2011, and that was already a decrease on 2010. I made a single resolution for knitting in 2012, which was to knit as whim and fancy led me. Unfortunately, whim and fancy have not proven to be productive leaders and I think I might have to choose a more ambitious strategy in 2013.

So, what did I achieve? I completed 16 projects in 2012. All of them might be classified as 'accessories' or small projects. Six shawls and scarves, four pairs of socks, five hats and a baby cardigan. As for 2011, most of my knitting has been given away to friends and family, though I have achieved some additions to my wardrobe that have been well and constantly worn. I've also participated in a couple of group knitting projects that have been great fun - a jointly produced Wollmeise baby blanket for a friend, and knitted bunting for the NSW Knitters' Guild stall for the Royal Easter Show.

So, to continue the tradition of previous years - my awards to myself for my knitting. The prize for the project of which I'm most proud goes to my Summer Hat



This is Jared Flood's Seasons hat pattern, bought as a kit in the 'summer' colour-way. As I commented at the time, I'm not a very skilled colourwork knitter. I can't knit ambidextrously and so changing colours while preserving the needed tension is difficult for me. But this hat worked well, with no puckering or obvious tension issues and, to my great pleasure, the inside was as neat as the outside. Maybe I can now attempt a more ambitious colourwork project.

The most favourited of my projects on Ravelry was, by a huge margin, my Big Shawl.



This is a minor modification to Stephen West's Transatlantic shawl. I'm not even sure I could call it a modification as the only change was that I kept knitting till I thought the shawl was the size I wanted. I've worn the shawl many times. It's large enough to wear it crossed in front with the long tails tied behind my back. This is unexpectedly elegant (if a bit eccentric) but also wonderfully cosy. Just what I wanted.

The Big Shawl was a close runner-up for the prize for the most worn item, but in the end nothing could rival my Textures scarf, knitted to Heidi Kirrmaier's Windward pattern.



Unexpectedly, the brilliant mustard colour of this scarf suited me and seemed wearable with many of my clothes. I loved it and received many compliments from others. I want to knit this pattern again as it is so easy to wear almost anywhere. I could even wear it with jeans if I had any.

And finally, the prize for the project that was most fun to knit. There is no doubt that this was the 'bunts' I knitted to contribute to the NSW Knitters' Guild's string of knitted bunting.



There were several weeks before Easter when almost every knitter I knew was knitting bunts. Even people who initially were uninterested in the project were caught up in bunt mania. It was a wonderful way to use up odds and ends of sock wool in all colours and combinations. And we had the satisfaction of seeing the very lengthy strings of colourful bunting that resulted. Great fun.

So, I'm not really satisfied with my 2012 knitting output. I like the things I've produced - I'm even very happy with some of them. But I don't feel I've challenged myself with my knitting or achieved anything major. Left to themselves, whim and fancy distract rather than inspire. I'm not sure just yet what I'll do for 2013. I think I need a bit of a knitting plan, but I don't want the kind of plan that becomes a tyranny rather than a guide. I'll have a bit of a think and report back.