Traditions Today

Let your digits do the walking...

Linda Ligon — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 11:00:00 GMT

“Please write a post,” Karen Brock asked me, “telling our readers about our new digital products.”


PieceWork July/August 1995

In the 1650s, before my time, digital meant “pertaining to fingers.” It came from the Latin digitus. That’s pretty clear: we have enormous stores of publications—magazines and books—that are about doing things with your fingers. In fact, it’s astonishing what humans can do with their fingers. Knit, crochet, tat, embroider, do stumpwork, for pete’s sake. And that’s not even getting into making music on a lute, constructing origami figures, poking people in the eye, etc. Just our fingers and some thread can digitate a whole universe of tangible items. It’s in our nature, it’s in our DNA, it’s in our history.


	Pincushion from Weldon's Practical Crochet, Eleventh Series, a PieceWork eBook

By 1938 (also before my time, thank you), "digital” had taken on the meaning of using numerical digits, 0 to 9 and beyond. Of course, humans had been using their fingers to count numbers for millennia, and our fingers were even called digits, but for some reason the English language didn’t correlate digit = number with digit = finger until the year that Walt Disney made Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Adolf Hitler kicked off World War II (no correlation). In 1945 (I was just a baby), the term digital made the leap from simple counting to describing how computers worked—substituting numerical manipulations for common sense. (Do you detect a slight bias against computers? Bear with me.)


PieceWork July/August 2009

I confess: all the factoids above came from Wikipedia. Doesn’t mean they are right, of course, just that I can conjure them up by striking computer keys with my fingers. What an eerie coincidence. In the length of time that took, I could have knitted an egg cozy or worked an admirable buttonhole. Digitally.

But back to Karen’s request. What she was referring to, of course, are the “virtual” publications about digitally made objects that can be “downloaded” onto your computer or other electronic devices digitally: whole decades worth of magazines, electronic version of books first published in the 1800s, no end to the wealth of information you can have at your fingertips. And about “virtual” and “downloaded,” don’t get me started.

Cheers,

Spinning in the Andes

Linda Ligon — Tue, 11 Jun 2013 11:00:00 GMT


	In Accha Alta, men still weave potato sacks from natural-colored llama fiber. Photo by Joe Coca.

It wasn’t my first time in the Andes, that trip in 2005, but it was the first time I felt a real connection to the people and the incredible textile work being done throughout the region. I was on a tour sponsored by the Center for Traditional Textiles of Cusco (CTTC) and its North American support group, Andean Textile Arts (ATA). What a trip! We went to Machu Picchu and many of the other notable archaeological sites, we hung out in Cusco, but best of all, we visited weaving centers in the outlying villages. These ranged from nearby Chinchero to distant Accha Alta; from Chahuaytire to Pitumarca, where the ancient art of scaffold weaving has been revived (and where I got a special lesson from a very old weaver). We saw the first natural-dyed ikat warp in decades emerging from the cochineal dyepot in Santa Cruz de Sallac.


In Pitumarca, young men knit fancy caps, or chullos, while the women weave. Photo by Joe Coca.

We were served traditional quinoa soup and, as a special treat, roasted guinea pig. (Tastes like squirrel.) We shared gifts of bread and coca leaves, we received smiles and thanks and heartfelt hugs. The weavers of the Andes are so openhearted, so eager to share their vast and ancient stores of textile knowledge.


	Making colorful warps is a communal activity in Santa Cruz de Sallac. Photo by Joe Coca.

The woman who has been key to reviving the old techniques, to reintroducing the use of natural dyes, to creating viable markets for the splendid textiles of her people, is Nilda Callañaupa, founder and director of CTTC. This year has been a particularly productive one for her, with a major exhibition at Colorado State University, the release of her video, “Spinning in the Andes,” and organization of a spectacular event to be held in Cusco this November.

“Tinkuy” is the Quechua word for “gathering,” and Tinkuy de Tejedores will bring together indigenous spinners, knitters, weavers, embroiderers, and textile enthusiasts from the Americas and beyond. The program will include keynote speakers from the US, India, and the UK, and demonstrations and hands-on workshops in knitting, spinning, backstrap weaving, dyeing, braiding, and more. Dancing, singing, and special exhibits will round out the program. Following the four-day Tinkuy, visitors are invited to take the optional tour described above. Read about it HERE, put it on your calendar. Get out your pushka (spindle) and start practicing. Nilda’s video will put you on the right track.

Cheers,

Magic, Promises, and Thread

Karen Brock — Tue, 04 Jun 2013 11:00:00 GMT

“I had buried my secrets early. . . . I buried my magic stones, my mirror, my special promises, my golden threads, objects of identity that connected me to the world . . .” I reread that passage from Ben Okri’s The Famished Road recently, one that I’ve returned to often. I love the images it evokes, that it helps me to remember the places where I have buried my secrets—wrapped in golden thread. I’m also curious about these personal objects that connect us to the world.


Ava T. Coleman's adaptation, shown at left, of the early-nineteenth-century Pineapple bag, shown at right. PieceWork January/February 2012. Photograph by Joe Coca.

PieceWork had a tagline at one time, “connected by thread.” That phrase might also sound familiar to some of you who have written to us about your personal connections to articles we publish or to those personal objects we include in PieceWork because I've used it often in response, marveling at the threads between us.


	Chris Laning's interpretation of the Sion knitted purse dating from the fourteenth century. Knitting Traditions Spring 2013. Photograph by Joe Coca.

Here in the PieceWork office we’re gearing up for our 20th anniversary issue: September/October will be full of special promise as we present an array of treasure bags. Pouches, purses, vessels of stones and golden threads that house treasures—secrets and objects of identity—and connect us to myriad worlds. They are objects of identity themselves. That’s just enough to whet your appetite, but stay tuned, you’ll learn more about our anniversary celebration in the weeks ahead, including the fun prize giveaways throughout the summer via our blog and eNewsletter.

PieceWork, too, houses treasure in its pages in a variety of techniques from diverse cultures and traditions, and we've got some superb themes planned for the upcoming year. Subscribe so you don't miss an issue. And consider being a part of it all. Learn more about contributing by reading our editorial calendar and contributor guidelines. Don't be shy. Email us questions and ideas, and let’s keep that thread vibrant and full of magic.

Enjoy,

Looping Back to the Story

Karen Brock — Tue, 28 May 2013 11:00:00 GMT


My Mother's Gloves by Ileana Grams Moog, PieceWork January/February 2012.

I just had a sneak peek at the PieceWork 2012 collection CD. What a fabulous year. Looking through all six issues in one collection made me ponder what elements made 2012 so outstanding. Was it all the techniques—everything from bobbin to knitted lace, from stitch-resist dyeing to tambour needlework and Bosnian crochet? Or was it the range of epochs and historical events represented? The traditions of China and Peru, of Norway and Mali, and various ley lines between? Was it the people? The stuff?


	Essy Pattle: A Shetland Cinderella Stole by Hazel Carter, PieceWork November/December 2012.

I, like many of you, love PieceWork stories—the ones detailing lives of remarkable people who also are accomplished needleworkers. 2012 had plenty of them. Ileana Grams Moog’s story “The Knitted Gloves That Saved My Mother’s Life” (January/February) about the gloves her mother knitted a German guard in France during World War II will stay with me always. And there was Chester Bentz and his lifelong commitment to tatting and all those bedspreads he tatted for his sons on the back roads of Iowa (May/June). And there was Hazel Carter who traveled the world, translating complicated Shetland lace knitting patterns into charts and seeking out the cobweb singles to knit them (November/December).

In a weird way, I feel like I have a relationship to these people whom I’ve never even met, but it’s that connection to them, to their families, and to the textile historians who tell their stories that heartens me and that feeds and fuels my curiosity.


Faustino Quispe Cruz (right) and his son, Marc Antony, knit together in the family compound. Taquile Island, Peru. 2010. PieceWork January/February 2012. Photograph by Joe Coca.

And what makes the characters in these stories transcend the pages and live on in my own life, and I hope yours, is the opportunity to make the very things that they did. I find particular joy in seeing a designer’s sketch rendered into an heirloom piece with the perfect yarn or thread, knowing I can make it, too! Whether they’re knit in wool-alpaca worsted weight, a cashmere laceweight, or a 2-ply sock yarn, or crocheted in size 10 cotton thread, or worked in 6-strand embroidery floss, I’m never disappointed when completed projects arrive in our office. When my fingertips find the texture of a pair of mittens or the intricate details of a tatted edging, I’m so pleased at how all the pieces have come together. These objects are exquisitely wrought, yes, beautiful, whimsical at times, stunning. But it’s more than that, it’s the way the object loops me back to the story it accompanies and defines the life it’s meant to represent.

Download the 2012 digital compilation today or pre-order the CD collection, available June 19th.

Enjoy,

Practical Crochet? Give Me a Break

Linda Ligon — Tue, 21 May 2013 11:00:00 GMT


Toilet Tidy


	Night Cap Antimacassar

That’s what they called it, though. Weldon’s Practical Crochet. We’re publishing the Ninth and Tenth Series and I have to say, I had to dig deep for the “practical” part. You’ve got your Toilet Tidy. Your French Hat for a Baby boy, which looks something like a dead parrot made out of yarn. Your Pilch, which my spell-check tried to change to filch, or pooch, or zilch (when all it really is is a crocheted contraption for sopping up baby urine – well, at least that is practical).

What did these Victorians know about practical? What were they thinking? Were the Weldon’s Practicals designed to keep their minds off conjugal matters or women’s suffrage? I imagine these women being expected to sit around all day in a sweaty fervor crocheting covers for the exposed legs (or limbs) of their Queen Anne chairs.

Okay, I do have to give Weldon’s some credit. The Nightcap Antimacassar would come in handy. No, that’s not an alcoholic beverage—that would be an Antimacassar Nightcap, and would involve a little rum. It’s a protective cover for the back of a chair, designed not to slip off, no matter how hard you try. You could shortcut the process by just putting it over your husband’s oily pate. Problem solved.

Seriously, seriously: there are some lovely, useful crochet patterns in these two eBooks. The Trimming for a Chemise in Series Ten is a charming insertion edging—I would work that as a border around a simple baby blanket which would then become an heirloom. There are Gentlemen’s Mittens, essentially fingerless gloves, that my husband would love because his hands are always cold. They’re crocheted sideways and look a lot like knitting—very sturdy and practical. Several patterns are worked in “tricot” crochet, which seems to be the same as Tunisian crochet, a quick and practical technique that yields a firm fabric suitable for embroidery embellishment.

Trimming for a Chemise

But even if you never use a single pattern from these booklets, they are worth the price in entertainment value. They're a window into the lives and tastes of our great-grandmothers (if you're of Western European origin). It's just not that long ago.

Cheers,

We Are Connected

Jeane Hutchins — Tue, 14 May 2013 11:00:00 GMT

I am continually amazed by the number of contributors, both to PieceWork and Knitting Traditions, whose efforts to tell a story about a family treasure lead to their discoveries about the lives of family members. Some of whom were almost completely forgotten.

Here is a case in point:


The stockings that belonged to Darlene Watson's grandfather; her article about the stockings is included in PieceWork's Knitting Traditions Spring 2013 issue. Photo by Joe Coca.

“My Grandfather’s Stockings,” Knitting Traditions Spring 2013. Author Darlene Watson writes that her mother received some of her own mother’s possessions after she died. Among them was “a small cardboard tie box containing a pair of delicate, handknitted baby stockings. On the back of the box was written: 'Sox worn by Charles Jacob Geiser. Hand made by his mother, Barbara Geiser.' . . . We will never know why these stockings remained stored away for so many years, but I’m glad they did. Had it not been for them and the persistence of my daughter, Sheila Derrington, I might never have ventured into my family’s history and ancestry, digging through box after box and deciphering handwritten accounts.”


	Some of the vintage needlework magazines in PieceWork's collection. Photo by Ann Swanson.

Several years ago, my brother became very interested in our family tree and spent a lot of time tracking our ancestors back to the 17th century. One of the astounding things he learned while doing the research was that our great-grandmother, Cora Black Page, had written for at least one of the women’s magazines published in the late 19th and early 20th centuries in Augusta, Maine. Needlecraft Magazine, Comfort, Hearth and Home, and Practical Housekeeper were among the magazines published in Augusta. Unfortunately, we never learned the names of the magazines Cora contributed to. As many of you know, PieceWork has a treasure trove of vintage magazines, including a number of issues of Needlecraft. Whenever I can, I carefully peruse them, looking for Cora. If any of you ever run across her name in a needlework publication, I would love to know.

Searching for family connections is so rewarding, often surprising, but never dull. If you want to explore this fascinating way to connect with your past, do check out Family Tree Magazine, another member of the F+W family. Every issue covers resources, reviews of the latest technologies, census reports, and more to help you discover your own genealogy and your family connections.

Enjoy,

Step into History with Sockupied

Abbi Byrd — Tue, 07 May 2013 11:00:00 GMT

The newest issue of the eMag Sockupied is now available, and as always, it’s teeming with stunning patterns and fresh takes on sock-knitting techniques. From delicate leafy lace to colorful bobbles, there’s plenty of knitting to keep your needles clicking all through the warmer months and into fall.

What I particularly love about this issue, though, is that beneath its modern exterior are techniques and designs with an unexpected and rich cultural history. Lisa Stichweh designed the Schwäbische Socks, featuring an intricately woven pattern of traveling twisted stitches inspired by a knitting tradition from Austria and Germany. Reminiscent of Gothic architecture, the stitch patterns were used on socks in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and were later seen adorning sweaters in the early twentieth century.


Lisa Stichweh's Schwäbische Socks		Heatherly Walker's Provenance Socks

The bold colorwork patterns of Heatherly Walker’s elegant Provenance Socks were derived from French embroidery from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The scrolls, floral motifs, and fine stripes translate perfectly into a pair of everyday wearable socks.

Tracing her Hungarian roots, Laura Fazekas Halfpenny came across a knitting tradition that she effortlessly interpreted into funky modern footwear: brightly bobbled stockings worn as part of folk costumes in the small village of Sióagárd, Hungary. The costumes are heavily decorated and riotous with color. Peeking out from beneath a flurry of bright skirts are knitted neon-colored stockings with columns of tiny bobbles, worked much like the distinctive nupps of Estonian knitting. Although her interpretation doesn’t follow the traditional Hungarian folk colors, the varied color scheme reflects the multicolored nature of the costume.


Laura Halfpenny's Zokni kötés stockings.		The ladies of Sióagárd, Hungary, complete their elaborate folk costumes with unique bobbled and embroidered stockings. Photo courtesy of Művelődési Ház Sióagárd.

Whether classic or contemporary, you’re sure to find a pair of socks to suit your style in the Summer 2013 issue of Sockupied. In addition to beautiful patterns, there also are features on knitting two socks at once (including one inside the other known as the War & Peace method), cast-ons for two-color cuffs, and much more! Download your copy today and take your sock knitting to the next level.

Enjoy,

Abbi

Knit Nostalgia with Laura Ingalls’s Petticoat Lace

Caitlin P — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 11:00:00 GMT

Editor's Note: We asked PieceWork’s marketing manager, Caitlin Polasek, to share her thoughts about our May/June 2013 lace issue.

I grew up reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie books and was captivated by the cozy pioneer life Laura brings to life in her stories. My mom taught me to sew when I was young, and when I worked on one small project or another, I identified with Laura carefully crafting a secret present for one of her sisters before Christmas. The pancakes my dad made on special weekends reminded me of the winter Almanzo and his brother spent eating pancakes every day when snow stopped incoming trains and supplies were short in town. The cornfields behind my childhood home made me feel like Laura’s prairie was just past the backyard, and I would spend full summer days playing outside with nothing more than my surroundings and my imagination.


Delicate shell-motif lace from the New-York Tribune weekly edition, November 11, 1879, chosen by Mary Lycan for the lace that Laura knitted for Mary's petticoat in The Long Winter. Photo by Joe Coca.

Because of these warm childhood memories, Little House on the Prairie holds a special place in my heart. So, when I opened the cover of the new May/June issue of PieceWork and scanned the table of contents, Mary Lycan’s Laura Ingalls’s Knitted Petticoat Lace immediately caught my eye and I turned straight to it.


	Trish Faubion adapted the instructions for the tatted Fuchsia-Design in Points or Edging by Nellie H. Youngburg found in the November 1925 issue of Needlecraft Magazine.

Mary explores the knitted lace edging Laura painstakingly makes during the winter of 1880, and the historical context surrounding it. From reading the books, I knew knitting, crochet, and needlework filled much of the Ingalls girls’ time, especially during the fall and winter when weather kept them cooped up indoors. I was intrigued to learn about the trends of the late 1870s, a time when knitted-lace edgings came back into vogue and gained popularity with Laura and her peers. Mary Lycan’s description of how painstaking and time-consuming knitted lace could be impressed on me the Ingalls girls’ dedication to their needlework. She says: “I used to think that the lace was a metaphor for the blizzards of that Hard Winter—it was white, and it was endless. Now I see its gift as a symbol of hope for Mary’s education and of Laura’s commitment, at age thirteen, to help provide it for her.”

If you’re feeling nostalgic, you can create your own knitted-lace edging with the Shell Lace to Knit. Mary Lycan charted this garter-lace edging from the pattern that appeared in the November 12, 1879, weekly edition of the New-York Tribune.

In addition to your own Ingalls-inspired lace edging, you’ll find a Shetland lace shawl to knit, a lace medallion to tat, an Orenburg warm shawl to knit, a lace-edged endowing purse to make, and more—each accompanied with stories of the rich histories surrounding the pieces—in the newest special Lace issue of PieceWork. Subscribe today to make sure you never miss an issue.

-Caitlin

Vintage Magazines

Linda Ligon — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 11:00:00 GMT


	PieceWork, July/August 2010


PieceWork, March/April 1993

I used to haunt flea markets looking for back issues of magazines I had known and loved as a child. My family subscribed to the middle-brow usuals: Life, Saturday Evening Post, Reader’s Digest. We didn’t have many books in our home, so I spent hours and hours poring through these periodicals. We looked forward to the annual “joke” cover of Saturday Evening Post by Norman Rockwell: how many mistakes can you find in this painting? Even my four-year-old brain could engage in that challenge. And Reader’s Digest – I may scoff at it today, but I loved the quizzes and anecdotes and occasional natural history article.

Seeking out old magazines became sort of a family tradition as I got older. I gave my mother a 1910 edition of Harpers for her 80^th birthday, and we had a great time going through the ads and articles and thinking about how the world was in her birth year. These tangible cultural reminders incite nostalgia, but they also raise other concerns.

My mother gave my husband a subscription to National Geographic for his birthday every year from the time we married until she died – some thirty years. That’s 360 magazines! And he can’t throw anything away! When we moved recently, they had to go, and not even the local nursing homes would have them. The world is awash in wonderful back issues of National Geographic.


PieceWork, July/August 2004


	PieceWork, November/December 1995

We have a complete archive of all the Interweave Press magazine back issues in the basement of our office building, and sometimes I go down there to look something up. It’s hard to accept that the oldest ones date back to 1975 – almost four decades! Antiques! It’s never a quick trip. I find the issue I want, the factoid I’m seeking, but in the process I find dozens of other bits and pieces that I just have to stop and read, or at least look at the pictures. All these back issues take up a whole room, a room that used to be a bomb shelter in the 1950s. No way could I fit them into my house.

Like many women my age (and younger), I wax eloquent about my love of paper, pages to turn, magazines as objects. And I hope they never go away. But at the same time, if I had to choose between a set of pages to fondle and all the rich content those pages hold, I’ll take the content any day. That’s the beauty of magazines in electronic form, on CDs, on the internet. You can have the content without the clutter. On the other hand, I’m pretty comfortable with clutter. It’s a conundrum.

Save on PieceWork back issues—print and electronic—today!

Cheers,

To Russia with Love

Anita Osterhaug — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 11:00:00 GMT


	Galina with her collection of Russian dolls wearing shawls as part of their finery.

Editors' Note: We invited Anita Osterhaug, Interweave's editorial director for the specialty fiber group and the editor of Handwoven, to tell us more about Galina Khmeleva's newest DVD, Knitting Gossamer Webs.

I first met Galina Khmeleva in Russia in 1996. My favorite aunt, the one who had started me on needlework when I was eight years old, had passed away and left me a small sum. A few months later, Interweave announced its first trip to Scandinavia and Russia. My dear spouse and friends assured me that Aunt Katy would have been pleased to have me spend my little inheritance learning more about the crafts that we both loved, so I signed up for the tour and set out to explore my Scandinavian fiber-arts heritage.

The time in Scandinavia was all that I had hoped, and more. We had private viewings of museum collections, from Bohus knitting to historic folk costume and rya rugs. We had classes in Swedish twined knitting and nålbinding, and we visited folk schools, artist's studios and, of course, yarn shops. But one of my most vivid memories of that trip is meeting an amazing woman in St. Petersburg, Russia, who spoke to us with pride and passion about her work with a women's cooperative in far-off Orenburg, near Kazakhstan, and who showed us the most exquisite lace I had ever seen.


Galina models an Orenburg shawl.

Galina Khmeleva produced one gorgeous shawl after another as she explained to us how spinning the fiber and knitting a single shawl could take six months of work. She told us how the goats that grazed on the steppes of Orenburg produced long, soft, luxurious fiber that was then plied with reeled silk from China and knitted into "gossamer webs," warm and nearly weightless. And she teared up as she spoke of her recently departed mother, who hadn’t been able to afford the luxury of an Orenburg shawl until Galina purchased one for her in her later years. (Galina shares the story in the May/June 2013 issue of PieceWork.)


	Demonstrating the Orenburg scalloped edging on a sample mini-shawl.

In the years I have known Galina, her passion for Orenburg knitting, for the tradition, the craft, and the women who have lived by it, has only grown. She has spent decades of her life sharing the wonder that is Orenburg lace, and it was my great privilege this winter to work with her on a new video that will enable her to share the Orenburg tradition with more knitters around the world. We spent the day in Galina's cozy kitchen as she demonstrated the basics of the Russian style of continental knitting, the clever techniques of Orenburg scalloped edging, the basic elements of Orenburg lace, and how to block and care for your own precious shawls. Galina is an exceptional teacher, but the video is more than technique. In it, she takes us to the steppes of Orenburg, giving an intimate glimpse into the lives and history of its people. Galina takes us on a journey to her native Russia, as always, with love.

“Grandma Pat” and Other Stories about Lace

Karen Brock — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 11:00:00 GMT


	Round tablecloth tatted by Lily Mae Burley Patrick ("Grandma Pat"). About 64 inches in diameter. Collection of June Jones Gray. Photograph by Delores Chase.

“ . . . the history of lace is so interwoven with life’s comedies and tragedies,” wrote Samuel L. Goldenberg in his 1904 book, Lace: Its Origin and History.

Goldenberg’s characterization of lace history struck me as the perfect framework for many of the stories in PieceWork’s May/June 2013 6th Annual Lace issue. And perhaps that intersection of joy and sorrow is especially evident in the story of “Grandma Pat.” Lily Mae Burley Patrick was a skilled needlewoman who, despite sorrow and setback, including blindness, continued her love of craft and went on to tat five—yes five!—tablecloths.

And all the while, she was a delight and inspiration to her children and grandchildren, one of whom tells her grandmother’s story in this issue and provides instructions to tat a motif in the tradition of “Grandma Pat.”


Suffragist Susan B. Anthony wearing her signature delicate lace collar and cuffs. Library of Congress Frances Benjamin Johnston Collection, Washington, D.C. Photo by Frances Benjamin Johnston and courtesy of the Library of Congress.

There are other poignant and thought-provoking articles in this May/June issue that have made me think about the complex history of lace knitting and its role not just in our personal lives but in politics and through social change.

You will discover the chants of Renaissance bobbin lacemakers, many of whom were children, and what Shakespeare knew about them. Newly discovered correspondence by tireless women’s rights champion Susan B. Anthony shows she was a lace fan, too!


	*The needle-lace insert stitched by members of the Associazione Culturale "I merletti di Antonilla Cantelli" in Bologna, Italy. Photo by Joe Coca.*

In this lace issue, the techniques span a broad spectrum: knitting, crocheting, needlelace, and tatting. You’ll learn about the Shetland knitters in New Zealand and find Margaret Stove’s pattern for a lace scarf.

A poignant young adult novel is the source of inspiration for the author and designer’s crocheted lace scarf, and the needlelace talents of an Italian lace association provide instructions for an exquisite and intricate needle-lace insert.

And in her editorial for the issue, editor Jeane Hutchins will tell you a bit more about wise Samuel L. Goldenberg and his 1904 publication.

Enjoy this issue and all of our previous special lace issues; each explores the rich and complex world of lace.

Whimsies and Obscurities

Abbi Byrd — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 11:00:00 GMT


	Beaded purse. Maker unknown. Glass beads, velvet, silk ribbon, and cotton. Iroquois, probably Tuscarora or Mohawk. New York. Circa 1850. Photograph courtesy of Old Sturbridge Village, Sturbridge, Massachusetts. Photograph by Thomas Neill.

I’ve always had a fondness for the obscure and the unusual, especially when it comes to needlework. I also have a penchant for gaudy Victorian handicrafts, so I was delighted when I recently stumbled across the Burke Museum’s online collection of raised beadwork bags and pincushions made by the Eastern Woodland Indians. These pieces, ranging from little drawstring purses to cushions shaped like hearts and high-heeled boots, are eye candy like nothing I have ever seen. Worked in a dizzying array of electric colors and lush floral patterns, the style doesn’t look particularly Native American—but sure enough, these works of art are part of a rich cultural heritage.

In the mid-1800s, affluent Victorian women visiting Niagara Falls would purchase these elaborate little souvenirs from women of the local Iroquois tribes, who earned their livelihoods with their beadwork. All sorts of “whimsies” were sold—bird figurines, picture frames, watch pockets, hanging baskets, even match holders—and many were functional as well as beautiful. These handcrafts perfectly blended the bold, abstract forms of Native American art with Victorian excess and European aesthetics, and vacationing women of the 19th and early 20th centuries clamored for them.


C.E. Hobert's prison photograph. Photograph courtesy of the Yuma Territorial Prison State Historic Park, Yuma, Arizona.

Of course, it was no surprise to find that PieceWork covered Iroquois beadwork in great detail in its March/April 2002 issue. There are even detailed instructions for making your own Native American-style beaded bag with a colorful floral motif—a perfect project to settle into after a long and dreary winter season!


	The wedding dress made from a parachute by Wilhelmina van Niekerk shares the limelight with vintage airplanes at Calgary’s Aerospace Museum. Photograph by David Bly.

If you’re a lover of little-known needlework traditions, then PieceWork’s 2002-2003 CD collection is sure to whet your appetite. These issues are filled with fascinating stories: In the Yuma Territorial Prison, lifer C.E. Hobert spent his free time knitting delicate lace, including two collars, a chemise, and a piano scarf; a bride in WWII Holland was faced with terrible fabric shortages that made a wedding dress an impossible luxury, so she got her hands on a silk parachute instead; soldiers during WWI created pincushions embellished with beads, embroidery, and decoupage to send to their sweethearts who were waiting back home.

You can enjoy these stories and more with twelve issues of PieceWork from 2002-2003 at your fingertips, all on one CD. There’s so much to discover!

-Abbi

Timeless Crochet Comfort

Sarah Read — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 11:00:00 GMT

Editors' Note: We asked Interweave Crochet’s project editor, not to mention amazingly talented crocheter, Sarah Read, to share her thoughts about PieceWork’s new eBook, 7 Captivating Kimonos from 1918 to Crochet.

When mind and body both need a bit of comfort, I find there’s nothing better than to crochet a simple garment. Long swaths of basic crochet stitches—nothing too taxing on the mind, just letting the yarn do its thing, pulling the troubles out of your head and tying them up in knots. All the better if, at the end, you can wrap yourself up in those stitches and settle in to the warm thing you’ve made and have a cuppa.

The seven designs in this ebook serve that purpose perfectly, in addition to being cute enough that I can wear most them out-and-about when my cuppa’s done and I’m feeling ready to conquer the world again.

There’s also something enriching about working from vintage patterns, knowing that you’re following the path of crocheters a century ago. These women sat and stitched their garments from the same words on these pages for the same reasons we do today. There’s something that binds us all together in this continuity of craft and gives us a sense that we’re preserving a heritage. For me, that makes a garment crocheted from a vintage pattern more than just a garment—it’s an heirloom made new again. These flowing kimonos no doubt comforted the women of 1918 as they stitched their way through the climax and close of World War I, maybe pulling their troubles out of their minds and tying them up in these long, soft rows of stitches.

So put the kettle on and settle in for some comfort-crochet. I’ll be a space away on the map, doing the same, finding comfort in knowing we’re all a part of this heritage.

Best,

The Brontë Sisters & the Yarn Shop

Linda Ligon — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 11:00:00 GMT


	Penelope Hemingway's simple stockings knitted from a pattern in the 1844 manual, The Practical Companion to the Work-table. Shown with a portrait of Charlotte Brontë.

We invited Interweave’s founder and PieceWork’s creative director Linda Ligon to share her thoughts about our Spring issue of Knitting Traditions.

I keep waiting for us to run out of stories for PieceWork’s Knitting Traditions. And I keep being confounded by the wealth of history that keeps creeping out of the woodwork. This is on my mind as I skim through the issue that just went to press. There are stories that will rip your heart out, stories that will bring back your own fond childhood memories, stories that will recall things your mother, or grandmother, or great-grandmother knitted.


Lizbeth Upitis's Usinš and Sun Mittens, based on a pair of traditional Latvian mittens in her collection.

One story that caused me to stop for a careful read-through was about knitting and the Brontë sisters. In my English-major brain, Brontë = disturbing and dour. Heathcliff and Cathy. Mr. Rochester. The lunatic wife in the attic. The sisters’ fraught, deprived, consumptive lives. There is no joy in these tales.

No joy but for the occasional character knitting by the fire with a cat at her feet. This comes up over and over again. And lo and behold, there is credible speculation that the Brontë sisters on at least one occasion took a short trip to a nearby town that had a yarn shop. A yarn shop! Did they shop there? Well, you’ll just have to read about it yourself. Read it while you tune in on You Tube to Myrra Malmberg singing the Wuthering Heights song, which is a little creepy.


	Heatherly Walker's Remembrance Socks contain stars hidden among winding cables.

If you’re not a Brontë fan, you’ll find plenty more in this issue to engage your attention, both stories and knitting patterns. You’ll find a stunning pair of Latvian mittens; lacy socks designed in remembrance of knitters in a German extermination camp who knit socks in order to survive (I told you it would rip your heart out); a retro 1930s sweater that looks perfect for today. And that’s just a taste. Knitting has been a human endeavor for hundreds of years, and its history flows on.

Enjoy,

Vintage in Every Way

Karen Brock — Tue, 12 Mar 2013 11:00:00 GMT


	Updating Vintage Patterns

When I hear the word “vintage,” honestly, my first thoughts go to wine. Shiny clusters of grapes dangling in ripe plumpness from the vine and the little tractors and wagons plying the rows between, harvesting the fruits that magically transform to a hundred kinds of wine.



Patterns for Collars and Necklines

And a true vintage wine, one made by a harvest of grapes limited to a specific year—all the better. And while all of us in the PieceWork office know how to appreciate a good vintage wine, that’s not usually what we’re referring to when we talk vintage—and we talk vintage a lot! Usually the vintage discussions happen when we’re looking through a 1920s Needlecraft magazine or a 1930s Modern Priscilla, imagining how some of these knitting and crochet patterns would look in today’s yarn. And what yarn would we use? What thread? What size needles? It takes a bit of work to translate all the details of a vintage design into contemporary form.


	Modernized 1949 Jumper

Enter the Vintage Design Workshop by Geraldine Warner. It’s a fabulous little book that will help you do just that: translate vintage knitting patterns into modern style. While the book doesn’t provide row-by-row instructions for vintage patterns (you’ll have to read PieceWork and Knitting Traditions for that!), it does have extraordinarily useful tips on reading and re-creating patterns from the 1900s to the 1950s, including adjusting sizes, substituting yarns, and several patterns for creating vintage elements such as sleeves, collars, pleats, stitch patterns, hemlines, and embroidery. In addition to a great reference section that includes a glossary and a needle conversion chart, Vintage Design Workshop offers a fun guide to knitting in the twentieth century that includes everything from 1920s fashion to politics and underwear in the 50s!

The shared characteristic of a vintage wine and a vintage fashion design seems to be that they come from an outstandingly good year—or period of years—making them a classic. Order your copy of Vintage Design Workshop and create your own classics. And remember, wine pairs perfectly with knitting.

Enjoy,