Flawed Shawls - Responses to Knitting as Lifestyle

Thank you so much for all the insightful and thoughtful comments to my piece on why I worry we are slowly killing off the craft revival. I am going to highlight a couple of responses and then, perhaps paradoxically, I am going to respond to my own post. Austen wrote about her own personal and professional experiences in Craft/Life and also linked to this fascinating blog post about similar(?) issues in food blogging (skip halfway down for the good bits). Heather took her cues from one of the many Twitter discussions and examined the representation of the Self in everyday knitting. Finally, Ellen wrote quite a meaty response in which she pondered knitting as a subculture.

I have been mulling over my own response.

I am not sure where knitting is heading as a community but I worry we are starting to talk way too much about ‘personal brands’ and ‘lifestyle’ instead of talking about the actual things we make. I love the act of making something - seeing something come into existence because my brain and hands made that thing happen - and I love seeing what other people make. Making is an act of story-telling and it is a story so much more powerful than any photo of me holding a branded 'limited-edition' purse with needles sticking out. No, the branded purse photo does not exist but it's the sort of thing I worry we will see emerging on social media a year from now.

(You don't see this happening? That's okay. I don't think I would have felt the urge to write all this if we were already in this place. Like most future predictions, this is all about the paths we choose to take right here, right now.)

So, let's talk more about making things. Make things you love, not because you think you should. Choose to make things because they will bring enjoyment to you in your life. Share the things you enjoy making and do so with pride. Making stuff is not a race and not a competition - everybody's life is different and that is fine. Make only that which is beautiful and useful to you at the pace you find most compatible with the rest of your life. And if making something sucks, it's okay to stop making it even if everybody else thinks it's awesome.

(And if you do not agree with me in any of this, that is sort of the point too.)

Yes, part of it also comes down to my personal struggle to think kind thoughts of myself. I have a strong streak of perfectionism in me and I never feel like anything I do has any merit (until six months later when I look back and am surprised by how nice something is). And this makes it tough to accept compliments. Louise once said something to me when I was having a bit of a wobble:

We are [all] like the shawl that gets admired and we cannot help but say - "Oh! but there is a hole here that you can barely see. I am showing you this because I made a mistake. Am I not a less accomplished knitter due to this flaw?"

This struck a chord with me because one of my pet peeves is when somebody comes up to me wearing a beautiful shawl they've knitted and then react to my compliment by pointing out all the places they've deviated from the pattern. I tell them to own the shawl they have made, to celebrate their accomplishments as a knitter and as a maker-of-things, and yet I do this knee-jerk self-effacement myself when people say nice things to me. Working on accepting compliments is on my list.

So, when I receive emails talking about "lifestyle branding strategies" - well, it weirds me out a bit. Partly because I am not sure why anybody would want lifestyle commandments from me and partly because I'm not really sure who I am. Life is an on-going process and we all contain multitudes - so why try to pin things down? Why not just throw ourselves into this wonderful mire we call life and try to muddle our way through? And maybe, just maybe, try to make sense of it all by making stuff (creating order from chaos!) and sharing our making efforts with strangers who may/may not become friends?

We are all in this together, flawed shawls and all.

Where Are We Heading? Knitting as Lifestyle Brand?

Lately I have been thinking a lot about celebrity, privilege, aspiration and the craft world. Could I have picked thornier topics? Probably not. Apologies for the long rant ahead. I had a lot to squeeze in and I could not always go as in-depth as the subject required. Thanks to my job I spend a lot of time on Pinterest and looking at personal craft websites. After a while much of it blurs into one giant peach/mint blob of perfectly-coiffured people showing me how to make organic acai berry mojitos in expensively procured 'authentic' jam jars. It feels like much of the 'making' out there is now designed to get commercial brands interested in working with you rather than about the crafting/making itself. In its own way this reflects the lifestyle websites GOOP and Preserve launched by celebrities like Gwyneth Paltrow and Blake Lively. These are aspirational websites. Websites that  are full of words like 'artisan', 'authenticity', and 'mindfulness' - whilst making you feel you are a bit of a failure for not being tall, skinny, blonde and rich.

This depresses me. The craft revival is precariously close to becoming Gooped and I fear we could be looking at the peach/mint-coloured beginning of the end if we are not careful.

Looking from a knitting industry & community perspective, we are not quite a peach/mint-coloured blob but we are looking awfully white, able-bodied, heterosexual and middle-class. I've thought a lot about the idea of privilege in knitting and I've had very long discussions with myself - from "Ravelry is showing us such a vast cross-section of body types" and "Knitting makes good clothes super-affordable" to the way I present my own identity online. It took me a long time to realise that the majority of popular patterns on Ravelry show a conventionally attractive white woman as their main photo; it took me far less time to notice how much we talk about high-end yarns. For years we have been having conversations about diversity in knitting, and yet I was strangely reluctant to start designing garments because I am plus-sized (I loathe this term, incidentally). Why did I feel so unsure of my body type in an environment that seemed to celebrate diversity? This was my personal light-bulb moment. The knitting world is not Goop or Preserve, but it is a great deal safer, more conventional and much more aspirational than we may like to admit.  I mean, when one of the most controversial topics in recent knitting times was simply that a guy was wearing make-up in photos, it is maybe time to hit pause and reflect a bit. 

So I hit upon a snag when it came to body image, but there is no denying that I am privileged. I am white, I scrub up nicely in photographs, and I can write fully-formed sentences in my second language from my charming kitchen office in adorable Scotland. It's a nice mental image, isn't it? You can almost taste the homemade acai berry mojito, right? I've written about this previously - but the knitting community does not tend to share the complexities of our every day existence (a few people do; most don't). And I am one of the ones who shy away from writing about the darker sides of life. Writing about artisan yarns, authenticity in design, and mindful knitting is a lot nicer - even if it veers awfully close to Goop territory. I wonder if we are seeing a slow slide into lifestyle marketing of knitting? Will the knitting world eventually become a peach/mint-coloured blob as lifestyle becomes more important than what we make? 

In my 2013 post I asked what would happened if we had to be ourselves online rather than a 'carefully pruned, shaped thing that is presented to you [as] truth' (to quote the author Jean Rhys)? The overwhelming response was that people were worried about presenting themselves as failures and that they felt compelled to be positive. I wrote that two years ago and I find it really interesting to compare the discussion to the idea of 'a personal brand' which is really pervasive in the knitting industry now. We have specialised marketeers now that work on defining brand identities, deliver customised social media content, and create marketing strategies for individual designers. I know some of them (all incredibly talented and hard-working people) and I am happy to see them work with some incredible designers that benefit from having a social media presence etc. On the other hand, there has been a real growth in out-of-nowhere 'life coaches' that talk about 'being your Passion', 'finding your personal Joy', spirituality, self-awareness, and so forth. This development confused me at first as I had assumed professional business advice would be flowing into the industry (accountants, graphic designers, admin tools) but I am wondering if it is the first sign that lifestyle branding is taking over? Working in the industry is now a lifestyle that necessitates a life coach, but not an accountant? Really? Will knitters be the next ones to need gentle guidance?

But going back to the idea of 'a personal brand', I have always struggled with this. Like so many other people in this knitting world, I am an introvert. I have a rich inner life; I like spending time on my own; I am quiet; and I like all those stereotypical introvert pursuits like reading a book, writing, and going to the library. Having to talk about myself and my work is really, really hard for me and while I love meeting other knitters, I find crowds quite stressful. Ultimately I rebel against the 'personal brand' tag because my job isn't about me - it is about knitters. I was once asked 'what do you want to be known for?' and my honest answer was this: I don't want to known for anything.' For me, my job is to be a catalyst: Doggerland was about knitting inner landscapes and enjoying soothing, meditative knits as much as it was about making a shawl. It was about the person making the shawl, not about the person who wrote the pattern. It's really, really not about me (even as I'm having this semi-rant).

Finally, a call to arms. Let us focus on the simple things in knitting. Let us make things because they bring us happiness. Let us focus on the knits and the purls. Let us embrace the joy of making something that keeps us warm in the depths of winter or on a cool summer's night. Let us recognise and celebrate that we are all just ourselves. Reject the commodification of 'the knitting lifestyle'. Reject narratives that tell you that you are too old, too young, too fat, too skinny, too anything to wear/make something. Reject narratives that only tall, skinny, blonde and rich actresses are worth our time. Reject notions that you have to knit with super-expensive yarns or circular needles to be a 'real knitter'. Be yourself and enjoy your knitting.

Pass me the authentic superfood jam jar mojito.

Yarn Shop Day, Knitting Retreats & Thank Yous

I'm supposed to be enjoying a long bank holiday weekend, so this blog post will be short and sweet. All photos by Mr D. who has lately begun taking more abstract photos and I'm enjoying looking at the world through his eyes.

First, thank you to everybody who made the trek to the Fluph yarn shop in Dundee this past Saturday for Yarn Shop Day. I lost track of quite how many people dropped by but I loved saying hello to all (including the dogs that people so thoughtfully brought along). I also loved seeing all the knitwear on display - from a stunning Aidez cardigan to the most exquisite cobweb Shetland "wedding ring" shawl.

(Fluph-owner and all-round lovely person Leona also managed to squeeze an unorthodox interview out of me. It includes a question on Eurovision!)

Later this month I am heading to Yorkshire for another knitting retreat (I'm combining it with seeing far-flung friends). However, I've had yet another jury citation - this is the third since November - so my retreat plans may be cut short. I love spending time in Yorkshire, I very rarely get to see these friends and the retreat location includes a short stroll to a delightful yarn shop, so fingers crossed everything works out. I know many of you wonder about knitting retreats - while you obviously have the option of arranging one for yourself, there are a few lovely 'open' retreats. Helen Lockhart of Ripples Crafts has been running a regular knitting retreat on Tanera Mor, an beautiful island off the Scottish North-West coast, and I know she is planning more retreats in the Scottish Highlands. You could also opt to spend time in the beautiful Welsh countryside together with Brenda Dayne (of Cast On podcast fame) and Felicity Ford at the Gwlana retreat. I am sure there are other retreats scattered around the British isles - do share your info in the comments section if you know of any!

Finally, thank you for all your kind words about the passing of my art teacher. It was a hard post to write.

Haere ra

Earlier this month the great-grandson of Post-impressionist painter Paul Gauguin passed away. It did not make headline news anywhere and I only found out via social media. The news upset me greatly. I grew up in a very rural part of Denmark. Prime farm country, most of life revolved around agricultural shows, travelling circuses coming to town, and the occasional dance at the local community hall. I was a bookish child and was a regular visitor to the local library. Books became my solace as I felt out of place - I read a lot of historical fiction and I made fanciful, historical outfits for my dolls. I was a lonely child.

When I started 5th grade, Mr Clovis Gauguin was assigned as our art teacher. He had a large, unruly beard and wore colourful scarves. I had never seen anyone like him and his name was hard to pronounce. He began by declaring art classes should have soundtracks and for the next few years he played us everything from 1950s jazz to 1970s prog rock while we painted. Occasionally he'd urge us to bring our own tapes to class.

And he'd show us art.

His family connections made Post-impressionism the obvious place to start. We sat copying paintings by Georges Seurat, Vincent Van Gogh, and (my favourite) Paul Cezanne as well as Gramps Gauguin. Then Mr Gauguin asked us to paint in the styles of the painters we had studied and the paintings were displayed at school. My mum later told me that Mr Gauguin had pulled her aside to talk to her about me. I was going to stretch my wings one day, he told her.

I did stretch my wings. I left my childhood community when I was 18 and moved to big cities doing things I could not have imagined as a lonely child stuck in the middle of nowhere. Thanks to social media, I reconnected with Mr Clovis Gauguin a few years ago and we had some fantastic conversations about art and music. I told him how much his encouragement had meant to me and he was delighted to hear that he had made a difference.

The difference was this: Mr Gauguin showed me there was a world out there filled with art, beauty and truth. He taught me to express myself, to trust in myself and that life could be very different. While many of my passions can be traced back to the Friday afternoons we spent with Mr Gauguin (late 19th century art and early 20th century culture in particular - but also poetry, abstract art and cool jazz), it is very possible I would have discovered these things in my library books. But I would not have known that I had colours and words inside me. Another way of life was suddenly possible thanks to my art teacher.

On the day of his funeral, Mr Gauguin's Facebook feed was filled with stories shared by people all over the world. Unsurprisingly I was not the only one who had benefited from his joie de vivre, his passion, and his encouragement. Concert videos from a restaurateur in the Southern United States who had once hosted Mr Gauguin's jazz band; Tahitian relatives sharing memories of drinking beer with Mr Gauguin outside a memorial service for his great-grandfather ("Paul hated the church, so in his honour.."); but mostly stories similar to mine. So many people writing about discovering a big, big world - both within and outwith themselves.

I cried when I heard Mr Gauguin had passed away, but he left his mark on the world by inspiring and nurturing people whenever and wherever. Sometimes you do not need to generate headlines to be a big, important person. And he really was such a person to me.

Happiness is a Warm Cardigan

Last week was warm enough that I could sit outside and work just wearing a t-shirt. This week we are back to sleet and snow. It's Spring in Scotland. This is what we can expect ("if you don't like the weather, wait ten minutes"). This morning the postman brought me my Scollay sample from the Knit Now office. What perfect timing. I am wearing it on top of a striped tunic, black tights and black shoes. It is perfect. Happiness is a warm cardigan.

(pardon the poor selfie!)

I've spent some time thinking about cardigans lately. I tend to wear cardigans more often than jumpers, and I tend to wear the same two cardigans. What makes a good cardigan in my book?

• Easy to wear. I have so many cardigans that only go with one outfit.
• Easy fit. Fit is such an individual thing (and I'm going to write more about fit in the future), but I like cardigans that skim my figure rather than hug it tightly or hide it.
• Right colours. My wardrobe tend towards deep jewel colours, navy blues, and greys. I need to remember this when choosing colours for cardigans rather than "challenge" myself to step outside my comfortzone.
• Buttons. I love buttons and I love buttoned cardigans. Unbuttoned cardigans may look chic in photos but do not work for me.
• Details over features. I like cardigans with clever little details rather than statement pieces with huge, eye-catching features. Hey, that's probably my taste in all things summed up by one small sentence!
• Truth to materials. This is an Arts & Crafts tenet that I've stolen, but it rings true to me. A good cardigan is knitted in a yarn that showcases the design and will last longer than me wearing the cardigan three times. I've learned this the hard way.
• Long sleeves. I am always cold and short sleeves don't work for me. I can embrace 3/4-length sleeves if for a trans-seasonal cardigan, but let's face it, long sleeves are always better. It's just a shame I don't like knitting sleeves..

What do you like in your cardigans?

News, Actually.

Some proper news! After numerous prompts I have finally set up a newsletter which will be a monthly summary of what I have been doing, plans afoot and some exclusive previews of future designs. I always find it a struggle to keep everybody up-to-date with all the things that is happening (designs, visits, events etc) so I figure a newsletter is a great way to summarise everything in one fell swoop. You can subscribe to my newsletter below - know this: I'm the only one who has access to the mailing list; I will only send out one newsletter per month; and I am not going to sell any details to any third-party people.

Subscribe to my mailing list (hit enter)

And hey, the Scollay cardigan is now out in general release! Drumroll, please!

This was the first garment I ever designed and it was knitted in glorious New Lanark DK (spun just down the road from me at a UNESCO Heritage site!). The pattern comes in seven sizes (from extra-small to 3X) and is both charted and written-out. I know many of you loved Dave's illustrations for my Doggerland collection and he's drawn the schematics for this one too. It's just such a nice, every-day cardigan and I love it to bits.

I am wearing the 1X size in the photos and I'm wearing it with no ease. I have included notes on sizing and modifications because I know some of you like a comfortable fit and other prefer a more fitted version. I'm rather short-waisted and the cardigan hits me below the hips, so I've also addressed the length of the cardigan in the notes. Customising fit is so important and I'm going to talk more about that later this year. Also, look out for a proper Scollay knit-along led by Louise Scollay of Knit British - yes, the cardigan was named for her!

Speaking of Louise and news, she's got a podcast interview with me up on her blog. I was interviewed by her on the second day of the Edinburgh Yarn Festival. Let me know if you can tell when my morning caffeine kicks in! We discuss future plans (oh, I am spilling a lot of beans), my work/life balance and I'm asked some rather great questions.

Now I'm off to knit in the sunshine. I wound a skein of Triskelion Taliesin 4ply this afternoon in a gorgeous emerald. I bought it last year at Unwind Brighton. So many memories contained in a skein of yarn..