Visual Rhetoric of Knitting

Jordynn and I talk a lot about "visual rhetoric"--a phrase in our field of research that essentially asks how images make and convey meaning.

I was thinking a lot about visual rhetoric when I picked up some vintage knitting needles and saw this packaging.

There are so many things going on in this image, I almost jumped with joy.

This pictures seems to be saying that knitting makes you beautiful, angelic, and gentle (and perhaps blond); that knitting is a meek, humble, and feminine thing to do; that good and pretty women knit.

Does anyone else think this packaging looks like a Summer's Eve label?

Knitting Travels: Gastonia, NC, and other Crafts

I've been out of town the past few days with my husband M.A.P., visiting his parents in Gastonia.

I've been wrestling with a knitting project, that must remain secret because it's off to a magazine as a submission when it's finished. I have knit and ripped this project 5 times now, which is a lot even for a trial-and-error designer like me. I had to set it down and take a walk today, and realized as I was walking that I had a bone-crunching headache--I didn't even notice the headache because I was so caught up in the project. My sister called as I was walking and I told her about the project, and she said, That doesn't sound like fun.

So true.

Question: Is knitting always supposed to be fun? If you knit a project for weeks on end and you feel frustrated, or even miserable, shouldn't you QUIT? I'm calling this knitter's angst. Has anyone else ever experienced this? What did you do to get over it?

While I've been here, I commandeered the garage and worked on some wood. A good break from yarn. Two bed-side tables that I inherited from friends, received a refinishing.

And my M.A.P., a fabulous carpenter/cabinet-maker, built custom cabinets for the laundry room we built.

That's a link to another blog I keep, where I've tracked the DIY construction work at our home. The thing is, crafting is crafting, right? So if I rehabilitate found furniture (like this) I can talk about it here, can't I? I added sewing a few posts ago, since fabric is fiber (right?). Well wood is fibrous too, isn't it? I'm kind of tired of keeping up with two blogs. Does anyone have any opinions on this? Um, like Jordynn?

My mother-in-law offered to take me to the local yarn shop one afternoon this week. It's really a yarn corner tucked into a frame shop. I bought a ball of sock yarn and some size 3 dpns (the size recommended on the ball band) but I should have bought 2s, because that's what Cookie A. always uses in her patterns. And I got to have me some of those socks.

Here's my mother-in-law shopping in the store, Things Remembered (isn't that also the name of a chain store in shopping malls?):

They have Berroco and Cascade mostly, and a few other things.

Here's my small haul:

I'm doing well keeping to my promise to support my knitting expenditures solely with knitting earnings. The paypal account looks small right now, though. I need to launch another pattern.

Coming up:
1. Durham Centerfest, where some knitting buddies and I will be selling knitting wares. If you're local come out and find us. We're called the Durham String Thing.

2. The N.C. State Fair. I'll be entering a project in the crafts category come September. (Another secret project. I hate not being able to share WIP pics on the blog.)

On Knitting in Japan

Japan was a riot. A land of ironies and contradictions. I f*ing loved it. I'm homesick for Japan.

For instance, I've never seen such excellent yarn stores (Yuzawaya, Okadaya), yet I never saw anyone knitting. Ever. Not once. And when C. and I would pull our knitting out in public, folks would stare at us like we were insane. Granted, as gaijin,* we got stared at anyway, but apparently only obasan** knit in Japan. So we started rebelling, knitting in the strangest places we could think of. On the train, for example. You're not supposed to do anything on the train except whisper and send text messages.

Another thing--sex and sexuality erupt publicly in entirely different ways there. Here's a sign I often saw on the train--advertising porn. Like it's no big thing:


And here's a sign indicating that this train car is designated for women only during rush hour because of the problem of men who a**-grab on crowded trains. (Read more about that on C.'s Japan blog here.):


And everyone obeys signs. There's a sign for everything. People even line up to board the trains, following these painted stripes on the ground:


When I came back, everything seemed loud and large. Large (cars, furniture, houses) and loud (people's voices, mostly). I'm in a permanent state of annoyance. I don't leave the house.

For some FOs from Japan, go to this earlier post.

*foreigner
**old ladies

Yarn Ethics

M.A.P. and I are on our honeymoon in a delightful little metropolis in the south. We stumbled upon a yarn store on our way to dinner while tromping around town, and I exclaimed, "Honey! A yarn store! Can you believe it?" and dashed inside. M.A.P. said, "I have been flim-flammed," and sat down in a chair to read Harry Potter.

I limited myself to the odd lots basket and dug out some darling Noro and mohair blends and funky Cascade, loading my shopping basket to the brim, thinking of my pregnant friend as a justification for at least half of the yarn in the basket. I called out to M.A.P. when I reached the counter, seeking his help in curbing my addiction.

Once, twice, three times I called to him. And he never came.

$111.00 later, we stood on the sidewalk; I was accompanied by buyer's remorse, M.A.P. by a rumbling stomach. I blamed him for the remorse I felt, insisting that in the ethical contraptions that shape our relationship, it is his duty to limit my spending in high-risk situations like shoe stores and yarn shops.

(Similarly, given my training as a lawyer and in the area of close-reading, and given we double-tipped the waiter at the resort restaurant last night because an 18% tip is included by the resort on all purchases and M.A.P. doesn't tend to examine receipts, it is my job to ensure that all annoying paperwork is read completely and filled out properly. See e.g. our life insurance documents.)

And he didn't fulfill his duty today. Even though I asked thrice.

Apologies were made and accepted. Shortly thereafter we stuffed our faces on half-priced appetizers at a fun little bistro and drank fruity beer.

M.A.P. then observed that it isn't like we threw the money away on the yarn--like with the double-tipping--since we did purchase worthwhile items that I will certainly turn into other, even more worthwhile items with my knitting.

Did I marry a winner, or what.