Studio Notes

T H I S is why I spin.

I’ve always dreamed of being able to make the fantastical yarn that lives in my imagination, the kind of yarn that takes over my dreams and haunts my waking hours.

When I realized I could open my heart and let paint move freely across the page, I wondered I could spin as freely.  I was thinking too much when I sat at the wheel, worrying the fibers into position, examining the twist and forcing the yarn to BE something in particular.

This was quite different.  I carded locks of wool into slightly lumpy bats, placing the colors in the intake tray very quickly. Then, I spun them as they wanted to be.  Thick. Thin. Whatever the fleece wanted.

Years ago I read an article about wrap and roll spinning.  It sounded physically impossible. You ply the wool with a fine core yarn, sliding the wraps up to completely cover the core. The core is twisted by the wheel and untwisted by a drop spindle at the same time. Surely I needed at least three hands.

What the author didn’t say was that the core yarn takes care of itself. You don’t work the drop spindle in the usual way. You gently nudge it into motion. You make the yarn inch by delicious inch.

But, don’t listen to me.  Listen to your fleece.

I only had 120 yards of this yummy Lisa Souza hand-spun. It’s a Merino/Blue-faced Leicester blend, soft as a kitten and as smooth as butter. Obviously I wanted to snuggle it under my chin. I don’t really like wearing those very narrow, stringy scarves, so I cast on a respectable width and knitted as fast as I could.  You do know that if you knit fast you won’t run out of yarn, right? *wink*

I must have slowed down, because I ran  out of yarn after 28 inches of knitting. That’s too short to overlap and pin shut. The edges just met, and would not overlap at all. And that was the answer.

People, color, fiber! Need I say more?

I wish I had more photos to share, but it wasn’t permitted. I understand that the vendors want to protect their creative products, but for those of us who think in pictures and colors, it makes things difficult.

Compared to the sheep and wool festivals, the Stitches marketplace is very removed from the source of the fiber. It’s citified. There’s more yarn and less fiber, so it’s a feast of c o l o r – C o L o R – C O L O R. It was held in the Baltimore Convention Center, so there were level floors, no hills to climb, and plenty of places to sit. I still missed the fresh air and the rustic setting of the outdoor festivals.

I”d promised not to buy any yarn, and I almost stuck to it. I did need a small skein of yarn for the color class I took, but that was all. I bought a deliciously complex merino/BFL skein by Lisa Souza that plies solid teal single with a warm and bright variegated one. This was the first lesson of the day: A bright yarn can be muted by plying it with a solid complementary color.

I know you are dying to see what I bought.

From the top left:
Two braids from Creatively Dyed, one hank from Lisa Souza, and a bag of Louet silk noils.
Kid mohair locks, four braids in two colorways from Neighborhood Fiber Company, and Wensleydale locks, Habu silk cocoon.

Yes, I carried all this home on the train. It’s bulky but light. I had a backpack and two tote bags. Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full!

I just made up my mind. I am going to Stitches East in Baltimore tomorrow, just to buy some fiber to spin. Spur of the moment decision, for sure, and I am so glad for that.

A long time ago, before all the bad stuff happened in my life, I used to do things like this.  I’d wake up in the morning and decide to go somewhere, just because it sounded like fun.  No plans.  No worries. No doubts.

There was the time I drove to Alexandria to buy a pen, found none in stock, and flew to Boston where I knew I could get one. Yes, from Virginia to Massachusetts and back, all for a pen.

So, I am taking a verrrrrry early train to Baltimore. I have the whole day to poke around, and hopefully will find some roving (quite likely) and locks (less likely). A lightweight drop spindle would be nice, too. I love my new Golding spindle, but at 1.9 ounces, it’s just a bit heavy.

I don’t need any yarn.  Really.  Stash makes me nervous, and even too much project-specific yarn makes anticipation turn into obligation.

Baltimore holds a special place in my heart. Twice, it was destined to be my home, and twice, circumstances sent me in completely different directions.  I don’t regret that I didn’t marry that charismatic and intense law student. Sometimes I do regret that I didn’t end up a shopkeeper in the Inner Harbor, but it wasn’t meant to be.

I’m so excited. I can’t stop grinning.

My mother and I made an annual tradition of attending the NY Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck.  We were both deeply bound together by the fiber arts.  She knitted joyful and complicated sweaters, and I spun, wove, and sometimes knitted simpler accessories.

In 2006 we enjoyed for one last time the creative riot of color and the easy interchange of ideas as we designed future projects inspired by a handful of beautifully dyed fleece. We basked in the autumn sunshine and tasted Artichokes French. 

She was knitting a siimple and classic sweater in deep blues, greens and purples in the last weeks of her life in April 2007. I have yet to finish it, but someday I will.

October 2007, I drove to Rhinebeck alone and wandered through the barns in a daze. It wasn’t the same. I bought a tapestry beater and some white warp. Where was the color?

This year, I was determined to reinvent the joyous experience. I reached out of my comfort zone a few weeks before the festival and started chatting with other knitters and spinners on Ravelry.  Shy me.  Can you believe it? I made plans to go to meetups and parties.

I’d like to thank every person who said hello or commented on my handknit socks. You brought color and warmth to my weekend. I’d especially like to thank the Holidome knitters and spinners who welcomed me to the tribe.

Next time, I’ll share some more of my colorful purchases. You’ve already seen my Lendrum wheel, Golding spindle, and some of the Romney sliver that I dyed.