art on and on

My workroom is unworkable at this time. Every surface is covered with piles of something. Journals. Vintage hand knits. Needles. Bags of "keeper" yarn. Copies of the anthology. Handbags and magazines. But I'm making progress in my declutter campaign. Delivered four cartons of books to SOMOS. And four trash bags full of yarn stash/leftovers to Twilight Kallisti - fiber artist extraordinaire - who will turn my leftovers into something beyond my imagination. Like Purl the knitted skeleton, featured here a few months ago. Today she was sitting in Twilight's car getting ready to go to another exhibition of recycled art.

It feels good to liberate myself from yarn hoarding. Intentions never manifested. Almost finished projects abandoned for years. Neither wanting to finish or rip out. Erased. I admit that as I sifted through every ball and skein I considered a plethora of winter projects - until reality (thank goddess) clicked in and I knew with certainty that they wouldn't be made this winter or ever, and years from now, after I'm gone, they'd still be languishing in storage boxes in the garage - only to be thrown away by fiber unenthusiasts ("who wants all that old yarn anyway?" I can hear them saying). However, I'm still here today and there is a fun part to all of this. I uncovered half-remembered vintage knits.

8th grade prom stole

Aunt Jenny taught me how to crochet this stole when I was thirteen. I have no idea now how I did it. Jenny died the following year and I was devastated. She was my mother's sister and I always believed I'd been born to the wrong mother. She and I were totally in sync which, sadly, my mother and I never were. However, my mother was a crafty woman too and I found a shawl I can still see her wrapped in on winter nights watching variety shows and movies in The Television Room.

The I Love Lucy Shawl

It's big and she was small. It was more of a blanket on her and she loved it. She didn't knit much, but liked making things with her afghan needle (which I still have). And unlike me, was a meticulous finisher.

Also extremely practical. She added a pocket for her eyeglasses and handkerchief. She loved to "paint with the needle" (her words) and usually embellished most things she made with a bit of embroidery. Her touches of whimsy in a practical world of necessity show up in the creative striping, fringes, pocket details.

To be fair, my mother taught me how to knit. Once. She wasn't interested in following up, I wasn't interested in sitting by her side to master the "proper" way to do it and consequently have my own version of casting on and purling. What I didn't know at the time was that Elvira taught me to knit continental style just as her southern Italian mother had taught her. Maybe it was a hybrid method even then. As a young adult during one of the knitting surges of the early 1960s,  I was embarrassed to knit in front of my friends. The final result might be flawless (not), but my working style was quite different from theirs. It took years to get wise to the variety of knitting methods used throughout history.

So, onward I march. Have to get more empty cartons from the grocery store for clothes and am in process of scheduling a day and location for a huge handbag and yarn stash sale with (also out-of-control-stashwise) friends. Stay tuned.