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.

Playing Darts

Yet when I say 'darts,' the term is used rather liberally. Frankly, I don't know what to call this. I've sewn horizontal darts into my jeans for years, and they are what you'd expect if you're familiar with darts on men's shirts. The goal is to reduce and shape the garment to fit better, but I use them on jeans because I don't like losing the ankle hems by folding them under. I also don't like the excess material that ends up there.



Contrary to having plotted the entire dart as seen in the pictures, I've decided to employ them differently this time around. Instead of sewing the entire section shut into a 'closed eye,' I've sewn just the center points together. By doing so, the fabric can drape more freely around the knee. At the same time, the reduction in the leg length is maintained where it's supposed to be (the back).





Due to the height of the 'pinch dart,' (good a name as any), there is a jodhpur silhouette that forms at the thigh where the excess denim drops forward. The folds gather at the knee, and push down in opposition to the darts. The resulting drape gathers rather nicely at the shins and ankles.

I typically wear a 28x30 in jeans, but for this particular alteration, I bought a 28x32 in order to guarantee enough length to work with. The cut is a boot fit made by Guess Jeans called "Jayce Slim Bootcut." I'm curious to see how these jeans age with this particular modification. Since the denim is so raw, there will definitely be some interesting whiskering.

Shear Echo Two

I've mentioned before that each hat series has a distinct design structure. But what you may not have noticed is that each series also follows a particular gauge structure. From highest to lowest it goes Reflect (diamond shapes in high gauge), Shear (parallelograms in medium gauge), and Divide (crosses in low gauge).



Shear Echo Two follows the same design structure of the Shear Series, but mixes things up by utilizing the lower gauge of Divide. It's a mash-up. In terms of design structure, it's nearly identical to Echo One, but with a thicker yarn, and a slightly simplified sequence of angular transitions.



The yarn is a 100% wool tweed. It's the lighter, sandy colored one in the image, and comprised the yoke section of the original sweater from which it was recycled. I honestly didn't know for certain whether I'd have enough of it for a hat which is why I simplified--and consequently reduced the number of rows of--the design. So I guess it all worked out in the end.

Oh, and I have a mustache now, in case you haven't noticed.

In The Hood

Prototyping usually means spending production time on things that I will never wear, or even want to wear, for that matter. I don't usually share these types of projects. There really isn't an end product. It's merely an opportunity to develop an understanding of various techniques. I don't even know what to call this. Is it a hood? Is it a helmet or a balaclava?

So the goal here was to examine the construction of a hood. In this particular instance, I've used a saddle shoulder technique. It seems appropriate enough for maintaining structure along the top, but in the process I noticed a discrepancy between the saddling strip and the side stitches.

The merging of vertical and horizontal stitches seems to personify the length and width difference inherent in the stockinette stitch. This is to say that a stockinette stitch is short and wide, and when you graft sections perpendicularly such as with a saddling technique, the side stitches flare out along the saddling. I wonder if a preparatory row of sequential decreases would even things out? The benefit of this type of hood is already quite visible. I like how rounded and bulbous it looks.

The brim edge is a series of picked-up stitches and held stitches re-joined in the round. As you can see, there are some decreases in there to combat the flaring, and tighten the opening slightly. This seems to work well in this particular situation, but I think something more variable is in order. Maybe a drawstring tunnel? I guess that's something to consider for the next prototype hood.

Nudge Bravo

It's liberating to finish something as big as Nudge Bravo. Never mind that it took me a year to produce. Never mind that it got back-burnered and pushed aside over and over again.

Technically I finished this in November, and guess what? When it was done, I washed it and put it away. Holiday Season was in full swing, I needed to focus on making hats for the shop. I was too busy to book camera time for my personal projects. It got some coverage over the past year on my Facebook Page, but that's about it.



Come to think of it, I never shared much of Nudge Alpha either. It was a piece I did for a private buyer. It was exhausting, and I under-charged for it. I never offered scarves again after that, and declined all custom orders. People don't seem to realize what they're asking me for when they request custom orders, at least not until I state my astronomical pricing. Yes, Nudge Alpha was definitely a learning experience.



But anyway, Nudge Bravo. It's done. Nudge is about structural randomness. It consists of a sequence of randomly selected numbers from one to seven worked in a ribbing alternation. As the sequence is nudged to the right, a new number is chosen and worked into the left side of the work. I chose to leave the edges borderless, anticipating an interesting edge. The subtle curling seems to flow consistently with the overall improvisational nature of the work.

The yarn is a quadruple thread multi-strand consisting of 70% cotton and 30% nylon, recycled from a Gap men's cardigan. The added weight of the nylon contributes quite well to the drape of the fabric. I think the nylon also adds a shimmer to the yarn that is difficult for me to demonstrate in my photographs. Do you see it?

Regardless of the influences that de-prioritized this project in the past year, I'm glad this one's done. I wear it all the time.