Shear Echo Six

I finished knitting this beanie way back in May, but I’ve been so busy with these new jobs that my content output essentially ceased to a halt. One of these jobs took up all my photography/post-processing time, and the other was simply a necessary supplement to the meager wages of the first. I seriously need a real job so I can quit all this stupidity.

Anyway: Shear Echo Six. Despite an earlier claim I made about this being the first of my works to feature a non-recycled yarn, I should point out that a few beanies in the Divide Series were made with a vintage Caron wool yarn I found en masse at the flea market for one dollar per skein. Now that I think about it, vintage finds like that seem more consistent with my production ethos than paying fifteen dollars a skein in a boutique retail setting. I recycle yarn because I’m poor, but I’m not going to stop you from calling me “eco-friendly.”

Aside from the yarn (Ariosa by Classic Elite), this is the same pattern as Echo Three. There’s angularity and all that jazz you’ve come know me by, including a scathing absence of a buyable knitting pattern. I should also mention that this item is personal work, and not for sale.

I’d write up a long-winded blog post about technique and how much I love this yarn, but somehow I think I’d be preaching to the choir. All you woolheads know Classic Elite, and where those folks are now. Besides, I have to get ready for work. There’s retail slave wages to be made, and I’ve got bills. If any of you know of any opportunities for a weirdo like me, hit me up. In the mean time, you’ll have to settle for this Instagram re-cap.

Shear Alpha Five

In the previous version's blogpost on Shear Alpha (Four), I didn't really talk about this design, and how it has changed over the course of it's life. I think it's important to shed some light on that because it touches on some aspects of my creative process. A lot of knitters assume that because I design my own patterns, that there are downloadable versions of them out there, but there are not. I don't write knitting patterns, and I am not a knitwear designer. I am a designer. Knitting is just a medium in which I demonstrate my creative process.

With that being said, each hat represents a step forward in that process. Primary designations differentiate the shapes. Shear is the parallelogram. Secondary designations--denoted by NATO phonetic alphabet--refer to variations in stitch compositions that define the shapes, and clarifications to the structural mathematics. Tertiary designations track changes in yarn and color using a number. Every hat I have made represents an exploration of this process.



So let's talk about the Alphas. They essentially represent the bare-bones minimum of what a particular primary should look like. Shear's parallelogram shape is demonstrated with straightforward stitches and minimal deviation. There are also mathematical processes in there that need to be physically demonstrated. This physical manifestation of minimal, basic geometry helps me understand it better, and generates a design foundation in my mind. From this understanding I can follow it with the Bravos and Echos that have branched out into their own subprocesses over the years.

In contrast, the Foxtrots are very rare. They tend to deviate significantly from this Alpha foundation. There has only been one (pretty sure), designated Foxtrot Zero, and it was sold to a private buyer. It is in these late stages where all the improvisation really takes off, and I can put together such incomprehensible compositions, full of production phrases no one recognizes. Such preposterous improvisation could not exist without all the iterations of Shear before it. Maybe it could for somebody else, but I'm the only one living in my head.

Just me. So I guess the reason I don't write patterns is because this creative process is my own. I built it. And to write a pattern for one hat would be like telling you how to carve a wooden stick without telling you it was a rung of a ladder. I'm not interested in teaching others to copy my work. Being truly creative involves developing your own personal creative process.

Here's an in depth photo essay about the recycling of this yarn.
And here's the Etsy Shop Listing. (Item is now SOLD)
Oh, and here's a recap of my Instagram posts on Shear A5:

Shear Charlie Six

I've been knitting for five years now, and if my work has demonstrated anything, it is that knitwear design is a personal journey. I was at a craft party recently, hosted by my friend Amy. I got a few people asking me how I got started knitting, and it really was a spontaneous decision on my part. I've always had a visual aesthetic of geometric compositions in mind, and that's what I wanted to demonstrate. Could knitting work as a visual language to communicate that aesthetic? After five years, I can say: yes, it does.

In just this past year or so, I've been pushing out of the confines of my initial design classifications. For example, the Shear Series has always used middle weight yarns of average quality, like lamb's wool, and wools that were semi-soft. Generally, the yarn weights fell into the 'sport' and 'heavy fingering' category, not quite worsted, and not as small as lace. An increase in the yarn weight means reassessing the mathematical parameters that are pretty crucial in my compositions, but weirdly enough, I can handle it. I didn't expect that.



So anyway, that's what happened with Shear Charlie Six. The original sweater sat in my stash for years before I recycled it, and when I did, the yarn ended up being in that range of light-worsted/sort-of-sport weight (?). I didn't know how it would knit up. After one swatch, I just jumped right into this knowing full well it may end up failing spectacularly.

But no, I didn't. I predicted that the subtraction of one repeat would accommodate for the increased weight of the yarn, and I was right. It just so happens that by doing so, the math still remained harmonious. I guess multiples just work like that (well, not all the time, but sometimes). And I think that's where my insecurity lies: that the stability of the tried-and-true math I've employed thus far could crumble if I poke it.

In a way, all communication systems operate in this precarious state. Much like the absolutism of mathematics, I can't really invent new vocabulary, I have to work with the same words as everyone else. But what I can do is pull back, look at the message, omit, clarify, and most importantly: let the work speak for itself.

Shear Alpha Four

Green was my Mom's favorite color. When I was growing up on Guam, she had this green Mustang that I wish I had more pictures of. It was totally impractical, but it's one of those lasting memories I had of growing up on a small island in the Pacific Ocean that nobody seems to know about.

Everything was green there. I don't mean that in a charming, "ocean paradise" sort of way. The island stands at the lowest altitude, practically at sea level. The humidity alone was enough to drive state-siders insane. If your clothes sat around too long, they'd grow mold all over them. And there was this algae that would bloom and accumulate in parking lot puddles. It looked like relish for giant hot dogs. There were frogs everywhere.

But it's home. Green reminds me of that place. What a strange association. I'm sure it almost sounds as if I hated growing up there, but I don't. It was a singular experience that defined a contrast between living on an island, and living in California. That contrast helped me adjust to the manic pace of life here. When I think of the color green, it reminds me of home.



I wanted to do that when I started knitting this piece. I started it while helping the hospice nurses take care of my Mom. During quiet moments, I'd bring it into her room, and work on it. If she wasn't too drugged up, she'd ask me about it. It's for my shop, I'll be selling it in the Fall. She didn't understand. Why make it now? I'd explain. She'd float off because of the Oxycodone, or the Morphine, or whatever it was. I'd knit another row.

She didn't linger very long before she passed away. It was about three weeks of hospice nurses, and drugs, and this weird mechanical bed. The days blurred together. But during that time, I worked on this piece. There were visitors, and laundry, and calls from Guam. I had a great conversation with a friend in Connecticut who first met me when I was still in my mother's womb. My first cry came during that call. More laundry, and the garbage cart is already full. The nurses keep getting lost because of the construction at the intersection. Mom wants a tuna sandwich, but no one else can make it but me because I know she hates the white part of the green onion. Someone is watching Game of Thrones.

Such a blur. I'd keep pace with the knitting transitions, staring into this green yarn, thinking of home. When it was done, I decided to keep it. It marks a place and time that no document or picture could. It's the palm trees, and parking lot relish. It's sitting on the table behind me as I hold my mother's hand, two days before she died. It's a writhing wilderness in the middle of the Pacific. It's Mom's green Mustang, baking in the sun.

Reflect Echo Three

For one reason or another I haven't knit another Reflect Echo since I introduced it back in 2012. In part it had to do with not having very much of this black merino to work with, but I also knew that the second would be for me (the first one sold rather quickly). Since it was slated as a personal project, it just got backburnered, and ultimately forgotten. I'd pass over this yarn from time to time while digging out other yarns for shop production, and now it's been three years.



I've done a few things differently this time. Firstly I sized up the needles from US2 (2.75 mm) on the original to a US3 (3.25 mm). Aside from making the fabric more fulled, it made the physical act of knitting much easier on the hands. Mainly I just wanted it to be more stretchy, and the four strand structure fluffed out pretty well in that regard.

Another change I made was to the narrow banding. In the original it was a simple band of seed stitch. Due to the angularity of the transitions, the seed stitch bands leaned slightly. Since I found them to be a bit too pronounced anyway, I decided to try alternating purl columns with them in an attempt to keep it all leveled. The result is a more subtle banding that doesn't lean as extremely as the initial version. You can visually tell that there is something different going on in there, but it's not as obvious as the original. I like that. I especially like how the purl stitches align to make thin horizontal lines in these areas.

Here's a shot of the inside. Note the verticality of the seed bands.

I've been steadily incorporating this into various designs over the past year or so, and now the technique I've been referring to as the "full trefoil" has been incorporated into Reflect Echo. What this means is that the columns that comprise the crown decreases at the top are carried throughout the knitting process from the very beginning at the brim. In fact, these decrease columns are plotted in the very first cast on row. This creates some mathematical discrepancies that I won't get into, but visually what this translates to is columns that span from brim to crown, and like in all my hats, they are in sets of three. I like to think of them as support columns because they typically carry the pattern stitches found in the central body of the work. In a lot of ways, these columns unify my work as a whole.

Shear Echo Four

I've been mentioning it here and there over the years, and the time has finally come. This is the last of this 100% lamb's wool. I have enough for two hats, and it's finally gone. You might remember me mentioning how I found two of the same sweater which never happens. This effectively doubled this yarn lot. So over the past few years, this yarn has appeared in more hats I've knit than any other yarn. I'll need to count how many there are one of these days (I probably won't).



So here we are: Shear Echo Four. In case you missed it, here are Echos Zero, One, Two, and Three. All the parallelogram structures are there, and the columns that set the foundation for the crown decreases, the mid-row transition breaks, and the yaadda yadda. All there.

The Shear Series has proven to be the most diverse of the three that I've been exploring. I've experimented with these parallelogram compositions a lot. It's interesting to note that the Shear Series is the middle weight yarn of the three. The Divide Series is worsted weight, knit on US7(4.50mm) needles, and Reflect is lace weight multi-strand, worked typically on US2(2.75mm). Shear finds a middle way between the two, usually ending up on US4(3.50mm). So it's logical that my mind finds a way to play with this series. I don't have to commit to the unrelenting row totals of Reflect, or rely on the low resolution of Divide's worsted weights.

In hindsight, I can't believe how prolific I've been with this work. I thought I'd be sick of this by now. I'm thankful that so many of you appreciate it. You guys are rad.

Etsy Shop Listing

Divide Alpha Four

According to my notes, I haven't knitted Divide Alpha since 2012. Time does indeed fly. I remember working on this for weeks, and being completely perplexed about how the transitions would cross. I remember the imperfections, and subsequent improvements that led from Alpha One to Alpha Two, and then to Alpha Three.

I modeled Shear Echo Three inside out. I wonder if those buyers noticed? They never said anything, but then maybe it was obvious. I did the same for this one. I like all that bloat on the purl side. There's something masculine about it, maybe because it reminds me of dragon scales or toad skin, or clumpy earth.



I still have yet to find fault in this vintage Caron 100% wool yarn. It's still strong enough to pass pull tests. There are no inconsistencies in color. It's still springy. Despite not being recycled like the rest of my yarn stash, I think I'm gonna miss it when it's gone.

Oh, and if you haven't already, check out my interview on the Woolful Podcast. Ashley was kind enough to feature me on this new podcast for fiberists, so if you're reading my blog, then chances are you'd definitely want to give it a listen. It's a perfect accompaniment to your knitting.

Etsy Shop Listing

Shear Echo Three

I have to say, Shear Echo has been rather exploratory for me. Prior iterations of Shear have had their variations, but Echo Series takes that design foundation of parallelograms, and demonstrates the most variation of all of them.

The design might just be perfect. I've been able to scale it into higher density and lower, by way of lighter and heavier yarns. I never do that, at least with the previous versions. I believe it is because the math is essentially harmonious. I won't bother getting into the specifics of that, but essentially the ratios of pattern repeats and row totals seem to scale quite elegantly.



If you've been following me on Instagram, you may have noticed how I started with one design for Echo Three, and ended up changing it. This was because I tried to change that math, and it just didn't work. You can't turn a multiple of three into a multiple of two. It's mathematically impossible. Well, okay, it can, but not within the confines of the row totals necessary for a proper fit of a hat on a human head. The convergence of the multiples simply doesn't happen enough to meet the target numbers. I'm starting to sound like a crazy person, so I'll just move on to the next paragraph.

I decided to model the work inside out. I've been reluctant to do this in the past out of fear of confusing people. I think people are capable of noticing that my branding tag is on the outside and come to that conclusion without difficulty. If I were to flip it right side out, you'd (probably) instantly recognize the triple columns I always do that converge into a trefoil. I like how subtle it looks with the purl side out.

When I recycled the sweater for this yarn, I made sure to get every inch of it because it was a sweater vest. No sleeves. One of the things I worried about while knitting this hat was whether or not there was enough yarn here to make two. Now that I've finished the first one, I can say now that there is. Why two? because I need to make one for myself. That's why.

So this item is one of one, and will not be made for sale again.
Etsy Shop Listing

Divide Bravo Nine

My Instagram feed has been green lately. I'm sure you've noticed Divide Bravo 9 flashing it's brightness over the past week among the olive drabs. It almost seems out of place among my usual color saturation preferences. I've always felt it was too bright. Maybe I also harbored some irrational resentment because it was recycled from an A&F sweater. But hey, that's not its fault.



The design hasn't changed, but it's interesting to note that this yarn opens up the design a little bit. It's slightly bigger in proportion than previous versions. I think this is due to the two-ply structure of the yarn. When I did this design with that amazing Italian wool I had before, it did the same thing. I don't have too many of these plied yarns, as manufacturers of the sweaters I recycle tend to prefer a more practical yarn structure consisting of two or more thread/lace weight strands machine-knit together. Consequently, the multi-strand versions of Divide Bravo have tended to be more stable, keeping shape longer. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, quite the contrary. I love how plied yarns create a fabric that opens up and drapes with wear. It basically means more slouchiness. And I like slouchiness.

Etsy Shop Listing

Armer Class

I've been calling these "Armers," much in the same way I've been calling my leg warmers "Leggers." They function pretty much in the same way, adding warmth to the area of a garment where all the drafts happen (the openings). If you ride a bike, then you know what I'm talking about.

The idea has been rolling around in my head to make these since last year, so it's nice to have these done and ready for the upcoming Fall/Winter seasons. I knit these to fit snug at the shoulders so I can layer them underneath a shirt. In the past, I've found wearing sweaters over shirts to be too warm, specifically in the chest and underarm. Maybe it's just me, I don't know. Anyway, I'm anxious to see how these will work themselves into my wardrobe.

In other news, I'll be opening my Etsy Shop this week, and no, these won't be for sale because I made these for me.

I Call Them Gaunts

I need to catch up with all these projects that I finished and never blogged about. These gaunts were completed around the end of last year, and I tucked them away like so many other personal projects. They're a simple improvisational project with more experimenting than planning. Color block stripes, spiral jog stripes, and an angular transition thrown in for good measure. That's really all there is going on here.

The yarn is a 100% Scottish Shetland wool recycled from a beat up sweater that I never took a picture of before unravelling. It was destroyed. I remember there were so many breaks in the yarn that I had to repair every few feet with a russian join. I almost gave up, but at the time this was the only light and medium gray yarns I had. I still have a few ziploc bags full of short strands that I kept. Maybe I should make a pin cushion with some of it (I've been saying that for years).

Delete Bravo

As you may recall from the Alpha, "Delete" is a designation I've developed to essentially bust my stash. And if you know me well enough by now, you'd know that I'd never name a scarf something so obvious as "Stashbuster" or whatever because that would be stupid.

The names I give to my work have very specific origins. The hats are named after tools and processes in Adobe Illustrator. The scarves: Photoshop. The sweater I just finished was named after a command in InDesign. Of course, I follow these naming guidelines somewhat loosely, but it gives me a good foundation for the thought process. This is, after all, about design. None of this is about knitting.



I suppose it's worth knowing that this yarn came from the first sweater I ever recycled back into yarn. I never even took a picture of the original sweater. This was back in 2010 when I was first learning how to knit, and consequently learning the prices of modern yarn. That's when I saw the necessity of it. I remember being skeptical of the whole yarn recycling process, but the thought of spending time rather than money appealed to my good sense.



So here I am, busting stash. Half of it, anyway. Maybe I should just make another one. Delete Bravo is an improvisational knit. The only preparation I did was a general gauge swatch, and a few mathematical equations to govern the potential variety of stitch patterns. The stitch pattern repeats essentially duplicate themselves from two to four to eight, while the angular transitions divide the compositions into sections of sixteen and thirty-two: 2 4 8 16 32. The consistency of the math unifies all the visual elements quite well, with the eight stitch sections fitting puzzle-like atop pairs of four stitch repeats. I like how this turned out.

Place Alpha Zero

After writing up a heavily technical post filled with knitting jargon and shop talk, it occurred to me that those of you that would understand it would just be hearing what you already know: calculations can only take you part of the way, but you have to dive in and just do it if you want to see how well a project will turn out.

When I bought Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitting Without Tears a while back from Amazon, there was this customer review on there that still bugs the crap out of me to this day. The customer bashed the book for not giving step by step instructions or tables for the percentage system, and how Zimmermann's conversational approach to patterns was basically inappropriate.

But that's not what knitting is about, is it? That's not what knitting is to me, anyway. I've come to realize that within the community of knitters, I'm in that minority who believe in technique more than pattern. I don't need a pattern to tell me how to increase or decrease, pick up a selvedge, or even to graft an under arm. As knitters, we should already know how to do these things, and if we don't, well this is the Internet Age, isn't it? There are so many resources out there that (at least in my opinion) explicitly concise pattern writing comes off as a demonstration of over-thinking, much like the way this blog post initially started before I came to my senses, and started typing these rambling sentences. I write like I knit.




So this pullover started out, really, as a curiosity. I had always wanted to knit a sweater, but the last time I tried it, I killed the project. This time, I just happened to be knitting along on some giant thing that really didn't have a pre-determined outcome. Mainly, I was interested in seeing how the angular transitions I tend to do would translate to higher stitch counts. Once I completed it, however, I realized that this circular thing I'd just made was a perfect fit for my chest. At that point I casted on some sleeves. I wanted to use up this yarn anyway.

As things progressed, I started over-thinking things (like a shawl collar that didn't work out), trying other things, and ultimately ended up back where Zimmermann had initially led me to: a Seamless Raglan Sweater. Were there hiccups along the way? Yes. They were technical, so I looked up the answer. Was it a lot of work? Yes, especially after joining the body and sleeves into a humongous row of stitches. Did I learn something? Well, Duh.

Regardless of the size of a project, there is a constant truth: what you are knitting is a confluence of various techniques. Each technique has variations. What you decide to perform is entirely up to you. That's the beauty of handmade clothing. Research the technique, practice the craft, unify the elements. And be creative enough to make up your own mind when you have to.