• Serpentine mitts 1

    These are Miriam Felton's Serpentine Mitts in Rowan 4-Ply Soft, for a Christmas present.  I started these way back in September, I'm ashamed to say — I was planning ahead, but distractions including a bout of the flu got in the way.  My deadline is tomorrow, though, so I quickly added the last thumb this morning, and worked in the ends, and off we go.

    (The photos are a bit dull, I'm afraid, but it's difficult to photograph navy blue wool at all, let alone in weak December sunshine.)

    It's a fairly simple cable-work pattern, easy-to-follow.  The cuff length is very generous.  I like the extra-long thumb gusset — it is very comfortable.  The 4-Ply Soft is lovely to work with, soft and feathery-light; I might have worked these at a slightly tighter gauge as the fabric seems just a bit loose to me, and so not quite as warm as they could be, but perhaps that will not be a problem here in southern California. 

    Serpentine mitts 2

    I was very pleasantly surprised that one ball of 4-Ply Soft made both mitts, so now I have enough for another pair!

    Serpentine mitts 3

  • Chandos shakespeare

    On the new-books shelf at the library the other day, I came across Contested Will by James Shapiro.  Being mildly interested in seeing "Anonymous" sometime soon, I took this home with me, although it is not about the authorship controversy as such, but about the history of it, when it first started being mooted, who were the major proponents — and their nominees, as it were — how it has developed over the years, and by way of wondering why there is such debate about the authorship of the plays, how an increasing, and increasingly insistent, belief that an author's life will inevitably be reflected in great detail in his works.

    Shapiro says right off that he believes that Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare, but he maintains a fairly level-headed fairness throughout, only seeming a bit baffled at times how someone as intelligent as, for example, Freud, would become so obsessed with proving that someone else wrote the plays.  Shapiro's book is very readable — it could in fact have been a bit more academic, and have included more than just a "bibliographical essay" at the end, especially since on this topic there are so many people who will argue and counter-argue about particular points apparently until Doomsday.

    (Why, why, why, do publishers think that readers of non-academic works are not interested in footnotes?)

    Grafton

    So, anyway, I got interested in reading a biography of Shakespeare, so tottered down the street to the public library, and picked out two of the most-recent on the shelf, starting with Anthony Holden's Shakespeare : the Man Behind the Genius.  Now, I have had a fairly high opinion of Anthony Holden for many years, admiring his biographies of Prince Charles and Princess Diana, but I found this book, while comfortably readable, to be superficial and filled with speculation presented as fact.  He blithely states one one page that there is no evidence that Shakespeare attended the Stratford grammar school, as the registers for the period have not survived, and then almost on the next page is writing as though it were fact, "In 1571, the year of William's arrival in the senior school…" which I find really shoddy scholarship.  He does lots of things like this: "Capitalising an intial letter, second only to moving a comma as the nicest of nicities among textual emendations, could see 24-year-old Shakespeare on the road with the Queen's Men in 1588.  'I sick withal the help of bath desired / and thither hied a sad, distempered guest …'  What does this mean? An out-of-sorts actor-poet in need of a hot bath?  Capitalise the 'B' of Bath in Sonnet 153, and you have a sick player — no doubt after some post-performance over-indulgence with his fellows at the local inn — seeking solace in the waters of the West Country spa, already renowned for their medicinal properties.  The Queen's Men made a documented visit to Bath in 1588.  Was the hungover actor a new recruit, enjoying one of his first forays out of London?"  It's a short step from "could have" and "might have" to "did": "[Shakespeare's] brief, half-hearted attempt at retirement to Stratford had made him realise how bored he would be in his native rural backwater, for all his fondness (tinged with guilt) for his daughters."  Three assumptions presented as fact in one sentence! four, if you count the parentheses.  And he does not hesitate to assume the validity of sources who must be taken with at least a grain of salt.  There was it seems an old tradition that Shakespeare kept his own half-pint mug at the local inn, “out of which he was accustomed to take his draught of ale at a certain public house in the neighbourhood of Stratford every Saturday afternoon.” “Our source for this engaging vignette,” Holden writes guilessly, “is, for once, as respectable as a Treasury man, James West, who ‘assured’ George Steevens of this solemn truth in the 1770s.” The 1770s! I ask you.

    Soest

    I went back to the library after that, and borrowed Peter Ackroyd's Shakespeare : the Biography.  I admit that reading this hard on the heels of Holden's book may have made me look on it with a kindlier eye, but I liked this one much better.  The two make almost exactly the same points — regrettably, judging by the respective bibliographies, neither did much original research — but Ackroyd is a better writer, and his chapters on London are vivid and fresh.

    That said, Ackroyd also does allow himself reams of speculation — I found it both amusing and frustrating that he can say things like "Shakespeare had been writing 'The Winter's Tale' in the preceding year, and its overwhelmingly pastoral setting has suggested to some critics that he wrote it at New Place in Stratford.  The same reasoning would suggest that he wrote 'The Tempest' while temporarily residing on an island in the Mediterranean," and yet in another place, "As a boy Shakespeare had passed [New Place] every day on his way to school, and it impressed itself on his imagination as a most desirable residence.  It represented his childhood dream of prosperity," assigning motives that he has no way of authenticating. 

    And perhaps I notice this more because of my interest in genealogy and thus church records, but over and over again Ackroyd assumes, it seems (because he doesn't footnote his sources), that Shakespeare was the godfather of various children in Stratford and London simply because the boys were called William — a possibility, I will agree, but to say it with certainty is misleading, since the baptismal records of the time included not even the name of the mother, let alone the godparents.  (On a somewhat related note, I find his assumption that Shakespeare attended various Stratford funerals rather sentimental.  He says at one point that the journey from Stratford to London took four days on foot or two days on horseback.  If the average time between a death and the resulting funeral is two or three days, then if you allow two days for the news to get up to London, and two days for Shakespeare to travel down to Stratford, he's already at least a day late, less if the death was from an infectious disease.)

    And almost no footnotes!

    But as I say, Ackroyd is a good writer, and I enjoyed reading his book — perhaps his eye for detail allowed me to forgive his lapses, although obviously not the more egregious ones. 

    Sanders

    And I thought it would be appropriate to include with this post some of the portraits alleged to be Shakespeare.  At the top is the famous Chandos portrait.  This is thought to have been painted somewhere between 1600 and 1610, although on what grounds I don't know.  It was thought for many years to have been painted by Richard Burbage, Shakespeare's contemporary and fellow-actor, and also something of a dab hand at painting; it is now thought that the painter John Taylor is equally if not more likely to be the artist.  An expert from the National Portrait Gallery notes that in addition to damage from over-cleaning, the hair and beard have been lengthened at some point. Next is the so-called Grafton portrait, alas somewhat more discredited these days than it was a few years ago.  The resemblance to the more-iconic portraits is tentative at best, but this of course assumes that those portraits are accurate representations.  I personally would very much like to believe that this boy would go on to write all of those wonderful plays.  Third is the Soest portrait, which even to my eye looks at least a hundred years too late to be from life, but it's a lovely doublet.  Just above is a relatively new contender, the Sanders portrait, with a label identifying it as Shakespeare and having been painted in 1603.  The smile is certainly unusual in portraits — although frankly I see it as more of a smirk, and find it in fact slightly unpleasant. The collar is interesting and unusual — I wonder if any period-clothing experts have weighed in on the dating.  And below is the Cobbe portrait, claimed by no less an authority than Stanley Wells on behalf of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust to be a portrait from life to be dated 1610.  A nice portrait — the beard is especially well done.  Is it Shakespeare?  Are any of them Shakespeare?  Will we ever know?

    Cobbe_portrait_of_Shakespeare

  • From the Shetland Times a few weeks ago:

    "A traditional Fair Isle cap bought on eBay for £7.39 now has pride of place as possibly one of the earliest pieces of Fair Isle knitting in Shetland Museum and Archives’ collection.

    The cap was discovered in a house move and was nearly thrown out, but was fortunately placed on the internet auction site instead. It was bought by knitting enthusiast Masami Yokoyama, originally from Japan but now living in London, from a seller in Kent…."

    FI_Cap_Presentation

    "The donation has delighted museum staff, who are now pondering the cap’s origins.

    "Textile curator Carol Christiansen confirmed that the colourful cap is definitely a 19th century example of Fair Isle knitting and could possibly come from Fair Isle itself.

    "Dr Christiansen said: 'The dark red colour indicates it is more than likely from Fair Isle as they had this deep red. I would say that this piece is now the oldest item in our knitting collection, although it’s impossible to put an exact date on it. It’s really in super condition and just fantastic that Ms Yokoyama found this on eBay and generously donated it to us.'

    "The cap has the classic Fair Isle OXO pattern with still vibrant colours in the natural dyes that would have been used in Fair Isle in the 19th century. The dark red, indigo, moorit and black colours have faded very little while the white areas give the only clue as to the age of the piece.

    "This kind of cap would have been the type of item that 19th century Fair islanders would have knitted to sell to tourists and passing traders either for money or goods. The madder dye (for red) and the indigo (for blue) would have had to be imported, and the colourful nature of the knitting would have made it more valuable.

    "Dr Christiansen said the cap, which has a long conical shape designed to flop over in the Norwegian and Faroese manner, rather than the modern close-fitting style, has caused some excitement in the museum. It is unusual in that it has a seam in the top part indicating it may not have been knitted in the round as would have been expected. However the lower part of the cap has been knitted in the round and is very similar in pattern to another piece of knitting in the textile collection. The cap is quite small and Dr Christiansen believes it may have been altered to fit a smaller head, with the seam being added in later if a section was removed.

    "The cap was recently discovered during a house move in Palmers Green in London. The seller is pleased that it has made its way back to Shetland and has been presented to Shetland Museum and Archives. She said: 'I’m thrilled that it has been added to your collection. If I had any idea that it was special I would have submitted it myself!'"

  • Brand-new

    Image0047-1

    We were driving past the station one day, train-spotting — as one does — and saw this.  New cars, shrink-wrapped!

  • Rain? did I say rain? It's pouring. 

    Gaia 2

    Apparently I managed to grab the only bit of sunshine yesterday afternoon, so there is no "action shot" of this, which is of course the Gaia Shoulder Hug, a free pattern by Anne Carroll Gilmour that I first saw over at Mason-Dixon Knitting.

    Gaia 4

    Noro taiyo sock S5

    This is Noro's Taiyo, another of their new-ish sock yarns; it has exactly the same yardage as the Kureyon Sock recommended in the pattern.  My label says very clearly "color 5", though it doesn't look anything like any of the 5s I can find online. 

    I don't think I would ever use this yarn for socks, as it feels like I'm knitting with quilting thread, although in all fairness I'm also working those mitts in Rowan 4-Ply Soft at the same time, which in comparison is like knitting with cloud fluff.  I've come to the conclusion that I just don't like Noro that much.  The thick/thin goes beyond slubbiness, the twist makes it worm at times uncontrollably, and it doesn't feel particularly pleasant next to the skin — yeah, the colors are what get you.  I don’t buy it with any sort of irresistible enchantment, only a sigh of “well, maybe this time it will be different.”  But it never is.

    Gaia 1

    As for the Gaia pattern, it is fairly simple and easy-to-follow, although I did have a  patch towards the end in which I somehow kept coming up short on the stitch count, and could not for the life of me find where I'd muffed it, so had to rip it back more than once, an unpleasant chore with clingy Noro.  I do like the little wings-of-Horus curls at the tips, I must say.

    Dimensions approx. 49 in./125 cm across the long edge, 20 1/2 in./52 cm down the line of increases — a good neck-scarf size, though not particularly generous.

    Gaia 3

    I had the dickens of a time with this "3-st picot-point bind-off", though, and puzzled over it much of the morning.  I don't know if it was my brain that was still trying to wrap itself around the knit-back-backwards concept and thus got stuck on anything and everything, or if the wording in the instructions was unclear, but from the very start I was having problems.  I wasn't so sure that the KBB instructions I could find online (as directed in the pattern) were particularly clear either.

    (In desperation, I looked at the Swedish translation, thinking that it might somehow make more sense, but the translator avoided the whole issue and included only the knitted bind-off.  Insert mild oath in Swedish here.)

    I ended up figuring it out by craning over to watch the RS as I worked a few purls on the wrong side — "okay, so that goes here, that goes there," etc. etc. etc.  And, lo and behold, the KBB is a neat little trick: Insert LN into back of last st on RN, wrap yarn around LN from back to front, then catch yarn with tip of LN and bring it through the st (you may have to use your left index finger to pull down on the yarn a little and make it easier to catch), and remove RN from prev st.

    Here is Gilmour's version of the 3-st picot bind-off: "k2, b/o 1st st, [k 3x (fbf) into yo, sl1 as to kbb, kbb 2 sts, b/o 3 sts, k 1, b/o 1] repeat between brackets to final st".  And here is how I read this:

    K2, pass 1st st over 2nd, *K3 into next st (which here will always be the YO of the previous row), sl last st on RN tbl to LN, KBB2, BO next 4 sts (including st currently on RN, and here ending with the K2tog of the previous row), rep from * to last st, cut yarn and draw through last st.  Since the sequence on the Gaia actually ends with the 2 K sts of the border, and not the yarn-overs, I worked the end with a K2tog just before the last st to get it to lie a little more smoothly.

    Gaia 8

  • IMG_1545_small

    Well, it's actually Tuesday, of course, but still.  It's a suprisingly grey one, as it happens — good thing I took this photo already as there is almost no light, even in the middle of the morning.  This is a Serpentine Mitt in progress, atop a Gaia shawl ditto.  Both fairly simple knits, although taking a long time, it seems, as I keep getting distracted by other things.

    Krabat - friday project 2010

    And in my literary travels, I am venturing a little further south, reading Krabat by Otfried Preussler, a German children's fantasy novel from the early 1970s, based it seems on a much-older tale.  It's a strange little story, of an evil miller and of the boy who becomes his apprentice, and thereby unwittingly a pupil in the miller's school of sorcery, and how the boy — sort of an ur-Harry Potter — eventually learns to overcome his master and escape the dark mill in the fen of Kosel. 

  • Clocked stockings - 1650-1750 - mfa boston 43 1944a-b

    Pair of clocked stockings
    1650–1750, European; 19 x 52 cm (7 1/2 x 20 1/2 in.)
    Knitted silk, embroidered with silk yarns. Embroidered clocks of straw-colored silk yarns in decorative motif. Knitted rose silk ground, thirteen yellow stripes at top, polychrome sole.
    The Elizabeth Day McCormick Collection, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

  • I am currently reading The Paper Garden : an Artist Begins Her Life's Work at 72 by Molly Peacock, a biography of the woman who invented the art of paper collage — rather accidentally, it seems, by noticing the similarity of a piece of colored paper and the petal of a geranium.  Interesting to think that of such trivial coincidences are art forms born.

    Mary delaney horse chestnut

    I don't remember ever having heard of Mary Delany (1700-1788), so this was all new to me, and thus perhaps all the more amazing, to look at a collage like the one above and try to comprehend that it is all little bits of colored paper meticulously cut and pasted onto a black background, with startlingly life-like accuracy.

    Delany had an interesting life, a marriage arranged by her family when she was seventeen to a much-older landowner who turned out to be an alcoholic and a gambler, which hardly surprisingly with hindsight turned out to have been such a disaster that Mary could not help being more than a little relieved when he dropped dead quite unexpectedly after seven years.  Now only 24, Mary could perhaps have hoped to live the rest of her life in peace, but unfortunately her husband had not altered his will, and so she did not inherit even what little remained of his estate, and spent the next twenty years living with various friends and family, trying to secure a court appointment, setting up a small household and yet still finding time to produce reams of intelligent, witty, and sensible letters. 

    In her forties, Mary received a proposal of marriage from Patrick Delany, an Irish clergyman of her acquaintance (later Dean of Down), who it seems had long held her in the utmost regard.  Now both widowed, the two enjoyed a very happy marriage until the Dean's death in 1768.  A few years later, Mary made the connection between the bits of colored paper and the flower petal, and made nearly a thousand of these flower portraits, what she called collectively her "Flora Delanica", until her eyesight failed in her late eighties.

    Rosa gallica

    I found the book at the public library, opened it at random and read the first pages of the chapter on the passion flower, and was enchanted.

    Magnolia grandiflora

    Mary_Delany_(née_Granville)_by_John_Opie

    A portrait of Mary Delany, by John Opie, 1782.

    Peacock, being a poet, has a way with words, so that her prose too is often very poetic.  I did, though, I must confess, get a little tired of the amount of autobiography Peacock stuck into Mary's story.  I can understand objectively why she felt it works, I guess, but subjectively, as it went along, I really wanted more Mary.  The book itself is beautifully made, which I thought a lovely dollop of extra poeticism — lovely creamy thick pages, a handsome dark font and wide margins.  I was not sure in the end, though, that I wouldn't rather have simply a catalogue of Delany's "mosaicks", and spend a great many hours enjoying a vicarious friendship through her letters.

  • Found Object

    IMG_1472 small

  • “Forever Plaid”

    The cast of "Forever Plaid" on the "Tonight Show" in 1992.  Gosh, the memories this brings back! I don't want to say how many times I saw the show at the Canon in Beverly Hills, but it was a lot more than once.

    The album is still a treasure, too —