So unusual for me to finish knitting something that I had to photograph it.
There’s just something about October that makes me want to dig out the craftwork. I think it’s nothing more atavistic than the traditional autumn screen binge, actually – because I’m currently watching Mad Men (still wonderful, despite the broken tension), I,Claudius (because of feeling rather ancient worldy following a short September treat in Rome) and Escape into Night (elderly TV version of chilling childhood book Marianne Dreams). I’ve even – don’t start on me – watched The Apprentice on TV3. (But please tell me I didn’t hear Bill Cullen ask the male team “So what was it like being project managed by a woman?”) That’s a lot of sofa-time, and having spent my childhood doing my homework lying on my stomach in front of Diff’rent Strokes and All Creatures Great and Small, I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of watching television and not doing something else at the same time, so I’ve started thinking about the boxes of crafty crap up in the attic, and wondering whether to heave one down.
Lurking there are:
- the knitting box (needles, patterns, scraps of wool and my half-finished projects of Octobers gone: an out-of-date class timetable from the Yarn Room, hats, a jumper sleeve, a knitted patchwork quilt in blues, purples and greys which was going to be a. lovely and b. an heirloom)
- the jewellery box (semi-precious stones, pliers, silver wire – for a few years a friend and I had weekly jewellery making sessions together, leading up to a Christmas sale, but we’ve been more diffident for the last couple of years about asking people round for mince pies and Babycham and then springing a till on them)
- the batik box (funny wax pens with brass reservoirs, and a great, split bag of wax pellets – currently sliding all over the attic like a monster version of the green lentils at the back of my dry food cupboard)
- the sewing box (sadly reduced to some gaudy fat quarters and a bag of recycled nametapes. God be with the days I made my own debs dress. Further into the eaves there’s the sewing machine – must, must, must watch online tutorials)
- the art box (lovely, lovely watercolours and that horribly expensive thick, grainy paper, a red bamboo roll of brushes and silky pencils)
- the card box (mainly for the youngstas, I couldn’t be more fed up with mini clothes pegs, stick-on shoes, dresses and prams, glue pens and all that general school artroom knick-knackery, give me a beautifully drawn or painted card any day)
Then instead of a cosy asbestos stuffing in the roof, we have several half-finished patchwork quilts and those enormous sitting room curtains whose goblet pleats never sat smoothly. Perhaps I could rework them into a maxi dress? No – because this year I’m not going into the attic on October 1st. I’m ignoring the mouldering relics of previous autumns and learning something new, so that I have something fresh to discard in February. My jewellery friend and I have signed up to a blacksmithing course at Russborough House, run by Gunvor Anhøj and we’re going to learn how to make fire irons. I’m a little worried about the actual hammering – bang, bang, metal on metal is veering into the sensations of fork-scraping-teeth or nails-scraping-terracotta-pot – and it’s obviously heavy work, too, but I think I’m game, so let’s shovel on a little more coal, and I may well spend the winter lifting embers with half a tongs. I don’t think I’ll test the attic rafters with an anvil, though.
I can’t be the only one with itchy fingers this autumn – what are you up to?
Or, more nosily – what lurks in your attic?
Anthea McTeirnan
Croí na Duibhlinn
Aoife Barry
Aoife McLysaght
Arlene Hunt
Attracta McCarthy-McKenna
clairehennessy
Ann Cronin
Amanda Brown
Eleanor Fitzsimons
Edel Coffey
Anna Carey
Lauren Murphy
Jennie Ridyard
Jude Leavy
Hazel Katherine Larkin
Léan Ní Chuilleanáin
Leigh
Lisa McInerney
Laura Slattery
Maman Poulet
Megan McGurk
Clare Kleinedler
Molly
Rosita Boland
Catherine Crichton
Sinéad Gleeson
sarahefranklin
siobhandowling
Susan Daly
theantiroom
Nuala Ní Chonchúir
[...] Ladybird books, learning to read, and the MOD here and my autumnal craft itch here. [...]
Great! Yeah I found myself gravitating to my dad’s workshop again recently to do some wood carving. If I may tootle my own trumpet for a minute:
http://shaneleavy.blogspot.com/2010/08/carving-wooden-man.html
It’s slow, satisfying work. Good for a tired brain.
Evocative piece, Antonia, that draws a smile of recognition..
I live attic-free in Dublin but I squirrelled away a precious hoard in my mother’s capacious attic when I returned from a decade of London, among which many boxes of letters (most of them penned in pencil, aagh), a collection of books I would not be parted from (think Maureen O’Hara in The Quiet Man fiercely holding on to her ‘things’) and a huge mirrored textile I dragged all the way back from a trip to Rajasthan. A temporary measure, I vowed in autumn 1999 when I installed them, I have not seen them since and I am currently steeling myself for the archaeological dig now required to unearth them.
As for craft at this time of year, embroidery and tapestry have long been my guilty pleasure, pastimes in which time telescopes, thoughts slow and nasty news of the outside world recedes altogether. Bliss.
I’ve never been a very ‘crafty’ person. I still remember the derision which greeted my efforts at sewing and knitting when the mysterious ‘inspector’ came round to examine our primary school output.
Then in a fit of autumn enthusiasm years ago, I joined an evening class to learn how to make stained glass. I learned both the leaded window and ‘Tiffany’ foil techniques and made several pieces. The largest piece was a bathroom window panel depicting a woman diving into the sea. I was very proud if it but once it was finished I never made another thing. The panel, and all my equipment were packed away and, two house moves and fifteen years later, were still packed away and unused.
Last year we had to clear out our whole house for major renovations and I finally got rid of my stained glass gear. I kept my ‘diving woman’ panel though, and got the builders to remodel the bathroom window so she could have a home at last. Although I may never make another piece of stained glass, it gives me huge pleasure to see that window every day.
Shane, you should definitely be tootling – nice work! As someone interested in carving you might like the work of Dalton Ghetti, I saw a photo on the Wordhoard blog yesterday and immediately googled http://oddstuffmagazine.com/extraordinary-art-on-pencil-tips-by-dalton-ghetti.html – he carves pencil leads.
Paula, that sounds familiar, suddenly you realise 1999 is 11 years ago. I don’t think you should let the sewing be a guilty pleasure (initially I read it as “quilty” pleasure) – I agree with the thoughts slowing. I find increasingly, as lots of people do, that my thinking is fractured, staccato – I blame the habits of web hopping, naturally, as well as taking too much on and not living alone! But something like sewing provides good long stretches of thinking time. If you don’t wreck it by watching television, of course…
I love the sound of the stained glass, Catherine, and it’s fantastic that your woman finally has a place from which she can show off her dives. Any chance of a photo? And I wonder if you look at stained glass in a different way now, knowing how it’s made.
Antonia, that’s INCREDIBLE stuff, wow!
I love the autumnal craft-binge – every year it starts with so much optimism. “I will knit everything! I will knit myself a house! This year is the year of knitting and NOTHING CAN STOP ME!” before abandoning half a dozen half-finished projects in a pile of tangles and grump.
In a good way.
I decided to start the binge early this year in an attempt to at least get some Christmas presents finished before next July…
Loved this post. I have a piece in today’s Times about craftiness and my own craft love (and my habit of not finishing things). Recently I’ve been knitting my umpteenth pair of socks (this time from a bamboo yarn, which is lovely and soft). I’ve been cross stitching tea towels with gorgeous Scandanavian patterns fromAlicia Paulson’s lovely book Embroidery Companion, and am in the middle of a very nice cardigan. Oh, and I have to finish the sleeves of a lovely top down jumper which has been languishing unfinished in a knitting bag since about March. I usually knit socks in the summer (small, light, easy to carry around) and cardigans and jumpers in the winter.
And I’m in awe of people like you and Catherine and Shane who have committed themselves to learning bigger, less accessible skills – I’d love to make stained glass or carve wood, but I know I’d be put off by the effort needed to go out and take a class and acquire the materials. Getting my paws on knitting and sewing patterns and materials seem more accessible to me.
Anna, I read that over the weekend, what a coincidence! And a very nice piece it was, too. Your embroidery book looks gorgeous. We always used to ask for “something to eat, something to read, something to make” for Christmas, and one year I got a sampler kit and cross-stitched out “No matter how large it is, no matter how small it is, a family together means home” and felt like a terrific fraud for winning some school hobby prize for it because I’d just followed the printed pattern – like painting by numbers. Did Jane Austen-era little girls free stitch, if that’s the phrase, their alphabets and Lord’s Prayers when they were doing the same?
I must shatter your illusion about my being committed to learning big skills. This time last year I was attending an upholstery class. I did finish one chair but the other sits in the hall.
I think the Knitting and Stitching Show is on at the RDS this month, or is it next? I am always amazed at how jampacked it is.
As autumn starts I get this urge to knit and crochet as many hats and gloves as is humanly possible. Maybe my brain panics at the coming cold and decides that if I cover myself in enough wool all will be well. I’ve knit a few hats and am half way through a cardigan. Last week I knit a pair of slippers and then felted them. They were so easy and bring a smile to my face even though they are a little wonky I know I will love them much more than any pair of slippers bought from Penneys.
I bet your handmade stuff gets tons of compliments, too. You are right about treasuring them – when the sole starts coming away from a 3 euro pair of slippers from Penney’s, you’d most likely chuck them. Anything happens to these, you’ll definitely get the mending kit out!
I think I recognise Scruff in that hat pattern!
I had decided long ago that I would save all my favourite clothes of Matt and Emma from when they were babies and growing up and eventually make a huge quilt using them which I would present to each of them as they were leaving home. They of course would be crying tears of gratutude at my excellent mothering skills. I think there may have been setting sunlight coming through the windows casting beautiful light over everything.
I realised then that I was only seeing my life as a soppy Saturday afternoon film and when it came down to chopping through the dinosaur babygros I just couldn’t do it. They will just have to stomp out of the house empty handed at 21 saying ‘If you’re going to charge me rent I’m leaving!’ just as I did.
I’m glad I’m not the only one who finds they’re watching more tv and films once October comes around. This year it’s been the Thin Man movies again, and Breaking Bad, which I’ve only just found out about.
I need to be more adventurous about tv crafting though, and branch out from scarfs and things that don’t involve seams. Socks seem so complicated – I feel like i don’t have enough hands to wield all those needles, especially if my attention is on a screen. Need to get on Ravelry or somewhere and find a cardigan or something with vast swathes of uncomplicated knitting that won’t distract me from Myrna Loy’s dresses..