transititions

cowslip

Winter really felt interminable this year. It seemed that, for weeks I passed the same corner every day looking in vain for the snowdrops that always appear there, heralding Spring. “I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t for those” said one of my neighbour-buddies, indicating a single patch of struggling crocuses that provided the only cheer on a particularly grey and grim sub-zero March morning. When we visited New Lanark on April 2nd, there were no wild flowers blooming at all. The only things of colour we saw were the yellow eyelids of the nesting peregrines and the bright red toadstools that Tom struggled through some spiky undergrowth to photograph. After all of this weird nothing, May’s rapid explosion has felt particularly welcome. I began to see primroses and cowslips poking through the brown and grey . . . then the grass pinged green . . . and then there was speedwell, and bluebells, honesty, and dove’s foot geraniums . . .

speedwell

bluebell

honesty

dovesfoot

. . . and then the blossom started to appear . . .

blossom

. . .and now the ordinary urban paths that I walk on every day appear like fairy glades.

glade

. . . or rather, large black dog-filled glades.

In many respects, these past few months have felt a little odd. Tom has been living during the week in Glasgow, working really hard at his new job. Meanwhile, I have been managing various health issues with greater or lesser degrees of success, and trying very hard to work around and within my limits. These few months have made Tom and I both realise how reliant we are on each other, and how completely rubbish we are at being apart. The upshot is that we have decided to move from Edinburgh to an as-yet-unknown location close to the Highlands but within commuting distance of Glasgow. The prospect of a garden in which to grow veggies, a few chickens and another dog (or two) is very exciting to me, and I am hopeful of finding a small house or steading out West where this dream can become a reality. Less exciting is the work we have to do to our current abode prior to selling it. Apparently, property purchasers require chilly Edinburgh flats to have more sources of warmth than that which is provided by our solitary living-room wood burner . . . thus, with the help of David and Stevie and Trevor we will be installing shiny new-fangled central heating and making various other “improvements.”

Why am I telling you all this? Well, because life is inevitably going to be disrupted over the next few months. A kind neighbour is allowing me and Bruce to hang out in her flat while Stevie is up here ripping up the floorboards, but I have now lost access to my computer and work-pod during the day, so am less accessible by email. I also have to consider the implications of moving my business as well as my home. We have just a handful of boxes of Colours of Shetland left in my warehouse in Leith. Once these are sold, I will have to allow the book to go out of print until I can make new warehousing arrangements at our new as-yet-unknown locale. So, if you were considering purchasing a print copy of Colours of Shetland, my advice is to do it now, as there are not many left (the digital edition will, of course, continue to be available). I’m still taking wholesale orders (with the number of copies-per-shop limited), but for both retail and trade orders, once the books are gone, they are gone.

So, if anyone is looking to buy a flat in North Edinburgh’s leafiest and friendliest neighbourhood, then be sure to keep your eyes peeled later this Summer. And equally if anyone has suggestions for places to which Tom and I should consider moving please do feel free to make them — we are now conducting recces!

Scatness Tunic

Here is the next design from Colours of Shetland — the Scatness Tunic

This design was the last in the collection to be completed. For many reasons, it is one of my favourites in the book.

Here is some behind the scenes footage from the day that my friends at Old Scatness kindly allowed us to shoot some photographs around the site.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t the best that day, and the photographs we managed to take in between the squally rain showers were a little grey . . .

. . .but there was a peat fire blazing in the reconstruction Pictish wheelhouse, which meant that we had somewhere to get dry and stay warm, just like Shetland’s early inhabitants.

The following day, in typical Shetland fashion, the weather and the light were totally amazing, and we were able to get out to take these pictures.


The two Scatness designs are all about circles. In the case of the tunic, this means that you knit everything in the round, cut a steek up the middle, and complete the edges with corrugated rib, icord, and neat, lined facings.

The finishing touch to the tunic is created with a set of signature wheelhouse buttons, whose colours pick up the rich shades used in the yoke and ribbing, and whose shape echoes the concentric spoked structure of the Pictish wheelhouses at Old Scatness.

The book includes a tutorial to enable you to make your own wheelhouse buttons. When I was producing this part of the book, I might have got a little obsessed with making buttons . . . they are somewhat addictive.

I love everything about this tunic inordinately: it is a very versatile garment, equally at home as an outdoor windcheater, or taking the chill off one’s shoulders in an air conditioned office. I love the rich autumnal hues of the yoke and the shifting colours in the rib, and for me, there is always something uniquely satisfying in the construction of a yoked garment.

I’ve now added the Scatness Tunic it to the Colours of Shetland collection on Ravelry, and if I get my skates on, I might be able to share another design with you later today.

See you again shortly!

FAQ

Kate’s new book, Colours of Shetland, will be published on December 1st, 2012

With its beautiful photography, engaging writing, and signature hand-knit designs, Colours of Shetland will inspire you with the varied shades and hues of Britain’s most Northerly isles.

FAQ
What is in the book?
Colours of Shetland contains ten signature designs, five garments and five accessories. Each pair of designs is part of a different Shetland “colour story” which is explored through words and pictures. Situated in the rich context of the Shetland landscapes, wildlife, objects, and people that have inspired Kate, these colour stories bring the creative process of hand-knit design to life in an exciting new way. Alongside unique designs that are a joy to make and wear, Colours of Shetland offers the hand-knitter food for thought and a feast for the eyes.

Where can I buy it?
Upon publication, the book will initially be exclusively available to purchase from the Kate Davies Designs online shop. Each copy purchased from the online shop will be personally signed by Kate. Other retailers will stock the book from early 2013.

How much does it cost?

Colours of Shetland costs £14.99 GBP, plus shipping.

Do you ship worldwide?

Yes, Colours of Shetland can be shipped by airmail to anywhere in the world.

Is the book available digitally?
Kate has designed Colours of Shetland primarily as a printed object, but the price of the book will allow you to access both print and digital versions. Kate has plans to produce Colours of Shetland as an e-book, and in the meantime, each printed copy contains a unique code to enable you to download the digital version when it becomes available. If you prefer a digital-only download, this will also later be available, though not for some time.

Can I pre-order the book?
No — Kate will only release the book for sale once it has been published and copies are in stock. The book is expected to go on sale on or around December 1st.

What yarn is used for the patterns in the book?
All of the patterns in Colours of Shetland are designed specifically for Jamieson and Smith Jumper Weight. This flagship Shetland yarn, with its beautifully rich and varied palette, is Kate’s all-time favourite yarn for colour knitting. You can buy it directly from Jamieson and Smith, Shetland Woolbrokers, as well as from a number of retailers around the world.

What is the size range of the patterns?
Kate’s garments are carefully designed to suit women of all shapes and sizes, and should fit anyone from a 30″ to a 50″ bust.

I’m a yarn store / bookseller / retailer. Can I stock Colours of Shetland?

Of course! Copies will be available for you to stock from early 2013. The minimum order is 5 copies. Please contact Kate for further details: kate@katedaviesdesigns.com

When can I find out more?

Kate will be releasing further information about the designs, together with themed posts and interviews with some of the people who have been involved in the book over the coming weeks. Keep your eye on her blog and find her on twitter (@wazzag)


I’ve now created a separate page for up-to-date information about my book. If you have any other queries that have not been answered here, please feel free to ask them in the comments below, and I’ll update the page.

Do you like the hat on the cover? You’ll hear more about it soon . . .

Lauder morning

We got up early, and drove down to the Borders. It was a beautiful crisp morning.



When we arrived in Lauder, the sun was already turning the frost into a magical, dewy haze.



Today, the Autumn colours seemed even more deeply saturated. I want to knit everything in these tapestry blues and golds.





While Bruce and I were enjoying our morning walk, Tom was making preparations. . .

Today was the first race in this series. A hand-knitted running vest is, of course, obligatory on such occasions . . .

Off he goes!

Ah, Cross Country season . . .

The Sixareen Kep

Hello from Shetland, everybody! Wool Week is in full swing, and it has got off to a great start.
I thought you’d like to see the pattern we produced yesterday at the Shetland Museum — named and photographed by the workshop participants, and modeled here by the lovely Tania — the Sixareen Kep.

In the workshop I talked a bit about the way I tend to build up ideas and inspiration for a project, and I thought I’d share with you a little of the background to the design of this kep (cap). This was my starting point:


Stanley Cursiter, The Fair Isle Jumper (1923) Edinburgh City Arts Centre.

Some of you may remember this amazing portrait from the front cover of A Shetland Knitter’s Notebook, and I’ve also mentioned my fascination with it before here. What the sitter is wearing on her head is is a sort of fancy seafarer’s kep. I just love this hat – perhaps apart from the pompoms – and thought it would be an ideal use of Jamieson and Smith’s Shetland Heritage yarn, of which I conveniently had six balls – one in each shade.


(mmmm . . .tasty Shetland Heritage . . . )

The shape of Cursiter’s sitter’s kep also reminded me strongly of the Phrygian or Liberty cap — a symbol of freedom that’s perhaps most most familiarly associated with the French Revolution.


I thought I would like to make the main body of my kep red, rather than white, recalling the Phrygian cap.

Then I started thinking about the different kinds of head-covering worn by fishermen around the coasts of Britain.

These noble chaps were photographed by Hill and Adamson in 1847, just down the road from where I live, in Newhaven. The one on the left is wearing what I think of as a kep — the kind of tall ‘wursit’ hat that would have been familiarly worn by Scottish and English fishermen throughout the Nineteenth Century. While the Newhaven fisherman’s head-covering is evidently fashioned in a single colour, in Shetland, such hats would have been knitted in several bright shades:

In the words of Samuel Hibert, in his Description of the Shetland Islands (1822):

“The boat dress of the fishermen is in many respects striking. A worsted covering for the head, similar in form to the common English or Scotch nightcap, is dyed with so many colours that its bold tints are recognized at a considerable distance, like the stripes of a signal flag.”

The collections of the Shetland Museum abound with beautiful examples of such hats. These keps are knitted at typically tight gauges, and feature internal linings which would have made them incredibly cosy and windproof. With a little further poking around the Shetland Museum online archives, I found this description of some wonderfully elaborate examples, that were knitted up to an old design in the 1950s:

“Haaf hats were the type of hats worn by the crew of a sixareen at the haaf (deep sea) fishing, and were typically patterned with small geometric designs . . .The skipper of the boat wore a bright red cap, while the rest of the crew wore darker ones. This differentiated him from the rest of the crew.”

So with these resonances in mind — the hat in the Cursiter portrait; the red Phyrigian cap; the brightly patterned keps described in nineteenth-century accounts of Shetland; and the sixareen skipper’s red “haaf” hat — I knitted this:

My kep begins with a knitted-in lining, and the colourwork brim is knitted on 2.75mm needles. After joining the lining to the top of the brim, I went up a couple of needle sizes, knitting the main body of the kep at a looser gauge to make it drapey (as well as having great stitch definition for colourwork, because of the way it is spun, the Heritage yarn also drapes well). After knitting and shaping the body of the kep, I finished it off with a braid, made from 3 different coloured i-cords, which I plaited and joined together. Here’s the end result:

The workshop participants had a great discussion about what to name the hat — associations were made with Burra’s famous Papil Cross, the distinctive red geology of Ronas Hill as well as different aspects of Shetland seafaring. A vote was taken, and the name that won out was the Sixareen Kep.

So, the pattern for the Sixareen Kep is now available from Ravelry!

Many thanks to all who participated in the workshop: Victoria Wickham, Shelly Kocan, Tania Ashton Jones, Susan Freeman, Evelyn Mackenzie, Emily Poleson, Mandy Moore, Mary Pirie, Aileen Ryder, Outi Kater, Joyce James, Tori Seirestad, Charlotte Monckton, Ann Leibert, Mary Henderson, Monique Boonstra, Joyce Ward, Lesley Smith, Melanie Ireland and Jen Arnall Culliford.

new bmc

Just popping in to show you a few photos of the new BMC sample which will be coming with me to Woolfest. I wrote the pattern for two sizes of cowl – small and large. The large one you may have already seen, and this is the small. This size is worked over 7 repeats of the pattern (as opposed to 26) which means that you only have to cast on 147 stitches (as opposed to, ahem, 546).

This sample is worked up in Jamieson & Smith Jumper Weight, and I just love it. The colours in the J&S palette are really complex: one never quite knows, until one starts knitting, just how they are going to appear, or speak to one another. Separate, in the ball, the shades look so distinct, but knitted up together they perform a kind of muted alchemy. The combination in the finished object appears, to me at least, quiet and subtle, like something that has been naturally dyed.

I have never worked with shade FC24 before – that fresh, pale green that forms the cockleshell – but it is rapidly becoming one of my J&S colour favourites.

Anyway, I’ll have a few kits in this colourway with me at Woolfest (each kit contains enough to make a large and a small cowl if you are so inclined). I’ll also have kits for Sheep Heid , Rams and Yowes, Tír Chonaill, and the Sheep Carousel. I’ve been receiving a number of emails and tweets about the availability of the latter: if you are coming to Woolfest, I’m going to do my best to ensure there are enough kits to go round, and I’m also making arrangements for postal and overseas orders. More of this anon.

I’m going to take a proper break now – so I won’t be available to answer any queries until June 26th. See you in a week or so!

Modern Embroidery

A few weeks ago, I discovered a craft / design book that really blew me away. This hasn’t happened for a while, and I love this book so much that I’ve been itching to mention it. Here’s how I came across it: back in April, I decided I would design a tea cosy for Woolfest. I knew that, if I was going to design a tea cosy it had to be an all-out kitschy novelty item, and I also knew that I wanted the design to have a Woolfest-appropriate sheepy theme. After a few days of thinking about sheep; of the generic shape and design of tea cosies; and just letting things mill about and brew in my head (my general way of working), I had a mild eureka moment: a Sheep Carousel! Yes! This idea seemed a good one, and I felt excited about designing and knitting it. But had anyone thought of it before? Tea cosies (which are often striped) seemed to lend themselves so well to representing a circus tent or merry go round: perhaps another designer had previously had the same idea? This does occasionally happen, and I find it is generally worthwhile checking such things out before one embarks upon a design, so I spent a morning poking around the interwebs, searching for sheep carousels, and carousel tea cosies. During my search I discovered that Jade Starmore had designed a marvelous carousel-themed baby blanket called Widdicome Fair; that Kathleen Sperling had designed an intarsia merry-go-round child’s hat; and that a JC Penney carousel sweater had recently generated some interest when it featured on Glee last year:


(“Glee” carousel sweater, JC Penney)

So there were a few knitted carousel designs, but none featured sheep, and none were tea cosies. But then, on one of my searches I came across a discussion of a “Merry go Round” tea cosy in a book by Ike Rosen called Modern Embroidery. Like most carousels, this one apparently featured horses rather than sheep, and it was a stitched rather than a knitted design, but I was nonetheless intrigued and wanted to check it out. So I tracked the book down on ABE. Here is the tea cosy in question:

It was indeed a carousel, but happily quite different in inception to the stripey marquee and bouncing sheep that had popped into my brain. . .

. . . and, as it turned out, Rosen’s merry-go-round was, for me perhaps one of the least interesting designs in a book which was packed full of TOTALLY AMAZING THINGS.

Rosen’s book was first published in Germany in 1970, and translated into English in 1972. Rosen addresses herself to women with “two left hands” who assumed that embroidery had to be fiddly, complicated, and difficult to execute. She clearly wanted Modern Embroidery to be an enabling beginner’s book, and so the stitches featured in her designs are very simple – most use a combination of stem stitch and chain stitch. But the variety of results Rosen achieves with this limited range of stitches is pretty incredible, as well as really beautiful.


(“Summer Souvenir”)

This is a book very much of its moment – pitching its use of colour and simple ornament as definitively “modern”: “Sensitive people of taste,” writes Rosen:

” . . . at the beginning of this century, were no longer able to put up with the overpowering ornamentation of the last century, and consequently the reaction against it was a rigorous cut-back of all artificial adornments. A new objectivity asserted itself, and strove under the leadership of prominent architects and artists for a pure clean-cut form. We have been profiting from it up to the present time and we are still gaining from it, for it is a style which was carefully thought out from many angles and deliberately fought for.”

But, among the clean modernist lines that then dominated design, Rosen detects “a longing for pattern,” and a yearning for bright colours that might “harmoniously unify various articles in a room.”

The styling of Rosen’s embroidery in “modern” 1970s interiors speaks to this idea of harmony — decor, objects, and designs speak to each other in a most extraordinary matchy-matchy way . . .

. . . these purple and orange plates with their nifty built-in egg-cups and even the eggs themselves are carefully styled to tone in with Rosen’s table runner . . .

. . . and the forms of cakes and biscuits echo Rosen’s abstract designs.

Despite the overwhelming 1970s vibe of this book (and it is overwhelming – shades of brown, orange and purple dominate; cigarettes nestle daintily among the pretzels) as one flicks through it, it is difficult not to find something contemporary and familiar about Rosen’s designs; hard not to think that Orla Kiely has somehow been inspired by these chained-stitched stems and pears. . .

And there are many knitting design-echoes too: these oven mitts immediately reminded me of Heidi Mork’s lovely Vinterblomster mittens.

But perhaps it is less a question of direct influence: rather, Rosen, (much like Orla Kiely and the inimitable Spillyjane) has a feel for a combining the folksy and the abstract in bold, simple and colourful design.

Rosen’s design referents are vast and eclectic, ranging from the Bauhaus through to Tiny Tim. The text of the book is extraordinarily eclectic too: there are occasions where Rosen seems to be setting out an entire design manifesto, while at other times she becomes philosophic and reflective with observations about the gendered division of labour or the tastes and habits of modern teenagers. In fact, I would say that the book is worth getting hold of not just for the designs (which I absolutely love) but for Rosen’s text, which is often weirdly engaging, even in translation. For example, this is how Rosen introduces my favourite design in the book:

“The more people there are, the scarcer mushrooms and edible fungi become. The case is similar to that in the adage: where we set foot, no more mushrooms grow. Moroever, at the present time, with more free time and a lot of cars to take us out into the open, we would have a lot of fun looking for mushrooms. Let us hope that some professor or other will find an opportunity of making these mushrooms grow in increased numbers everywhere. Since we are accustomed to the fact that scientists make everything possible, and in double-quick time as well, we will console you with this prospect, and in the meantime we have embroidered a dish of mushrooms which at least you can feast your eyes upon.”

Personally, I think there is only one appropriate reaction to “The Dish of Mushrooms” which is to hail it as a work of pure stitched genius.

I’ve not been able to find out about much about Ike Rosen herself – – perhaps because my German is so poor. I wonder whether any German readers might know more about Rosen and her influence? In the meantime, if any English speakers would like to track down a second-hand copy of the 1972 edition of Modern Embroidery, here are the details:

Ike Rosen, Modern Embroidery (London: B.T. Batsford, 1972) ISBN 0 7134 2655 1

In case you were in any doubt at all: I love this book!

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