Weaving 101 Part 1: Looming Decisions
by Amy King
Set your needles aside for a moment and take a look at another way to create with fiber. This new series will introduce you to the basics of weaving and a world of projects from quick-to-make scarves and dishtowels to more labor-intensive wraps and blankets.
Like any any artistic endeavor, weaving requires the right tools, and the tool that's most essential to woven fabrics is a loom. This installment will introduce you to one of the best, easiest, smallest ways to begin your weaving adventures: the rigid heddle loom.
by Leslie Petrovski
Anne-Marie Chmielewski of the Mountains and Plains Fibershed is waiting. Since June 2017 when she and her daughter drove 20 pounds of Rambouillet/CVM to the Mora Valley Spinning Mill in New Mexico, she has been waiting for samples of a 70 percent wool/30 percent Colorado hemp yarn—the penultimate product in Fibershed’s years-long Colorado experiment to turn hemp seed into cloth.
Mary Pettis-Sarley of Twirl Yarn in California is also waiting. She has ferried several batches of wool/alpaca/kid mohair/domestic hemp she’s already blended to the Mystic Pines mill near Williams, Arizona and is waiting to have enough yarn to market to knitters and weavers. She’s also on a quest to perfect an all-natural, all-American toe-and-heel sock yarn.
Stacie Chavez, president of Imperial Yarn, is waiting, too. Spurred by inquiries from fashion brands, Imperial Yarn is looking to create both production and hand-knitting yarns that incorporate U.S. hemp. At this writing, Chavez is hoping for samples of what is, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, the first commercially scaled American-grown hemp-blend yarns—in a few weeks.
So, here we are on the fragile precipice of a new American fiber industry.
By Kim Werker
In the last
I didn’t mention in that column that ten years after discovering what I love most about knitting, I hit a new level of satisfaction while I was on a plane. During my family’s flight to Hawaii over winter break, I hit a special spot of nirvana when, for the first time, I knitted and read at the same time. Yup, it was stockinette stitch in the round, and yup, it was on an e-reader I could prop up in front of me and tap to advance pages.
Stockinette stitch in the round on a plane. Soon, I pulled out my e-reader and experienced ultimate knitting-reading bliss.
The project I was knitting on the plane is one I’d set aside for much of the month of October while I indulged a compulsive need to carve stamps for Halloween. (Yes, when I put a project down in October it’s totally my M.O. not to pick it back up again until late December.)
They’re Not Worthy
By Rachael Herron
When I was 29 (almost two decades ago) I quit smoking–one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I rewarded myself by knitting as much as I wanted to. Up until
New knitters are so eager in their gifting, aren’t they? It’s a wonderful thing to watch: their first wonky scarves going to mothers or grandmothers, their first hole-ridden hats going to dads and brothers.
The right kind of person wears whatever you make them. A great friend will receive a felted pair of slippers the size of the Grand Canyon and immediately tear off her shoes and proclaim them just the right fit. A beloved sibling will put on the neon-blue muppet-like sweater and not take it off till the spring thaw.
But not everyone is worthy of being knitted for.
By Rachael Herron
I’ve got to come clean with you.
I’m known as a minimalist knitter. I’ve written about it in this very magazine.
But here’s the truth: I’m a maximalist who would love to be a minimalist but probably never will be. My stash is still on the small side, with all yarn reserved for specific projects (please don’t make me prove that—I can’t justify the cashmere except that it’s cashmere).