Old Year / New Year

 

As much as I'd like to be able to look back and say something concrete about 2016 in my personal and professional life, I'm honestly still pretty confused by it. Not in a bad way - I just feel as though I'm nearing the edge of something meaningful, but I'm still far enough away that the path is spongey and lightless beneath my feet. I can feel the outline of it in the dark, but I really couldn't tell you whether it was a weasel or a bowl of fruit in front of me.

Which is a strange, untethered kind of feeling - and one that I'd prefer to leave behind in 2016, thanksverymuch.

So if I had to say, what was this year, for me?

2016 was a year that challenged me to say yes to things.

To my little schnoodle Charlie, who is the puppy love of my life. <3

To writing, when I started taking creative writing classes for the first time in 10 years, and connected with a dynamic, passionate, and inspiring teacher and workshop cohort.

To traveling, when I tagged along to London, Paris, and Hawaii with Blake - and met his awesome coworkers - during his company-sponsored work weeks.

To teaching workshops in local yarn shops, which basically introduces me to the most wonderful students and lets me dance around and throw metaphorical glitter at them while they practice jogless 2-row stripes.

TO SWIMMING WITH DOLPHINS, WHICH WAS LITERALLY THE BEST THING I'VE EVER DONE

LIKE, I AM CRYING WITH HAPPINESS RIGHT NOW AND IT WAS A MONTH AGO, GEEZ, GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF ALREADY, CORY.

And 2016 was a year that challenged me to say no to things.

I said no to a lot of expectations about who I should be for other people, sometimes painfully.

I said no to this blog a lot.

I said no to a lot of my old ideas and belongings that didn't fit me anymore.

And probably even more than I said no, I said:

Yes, and... this is what I need.
Yes, and... this is what I'm worth.

(Which sent me into a blubbery pile of puppy snuggles and self-doubt, more often than a person should admit to in respectable company, but let's not dwell on that.)

At the end of the day, the important thing is that I made it through - and I'm gonna give myself a Liz-Lemon-style, self-high-five to that.

And while we're at it, in 2016 I also made this:

     

1 // Lelia Mitts for The Fiber Gallery at Madrona 2016  2 // Pow! shawl collaboration with Noriko, Ariel, and Stitchjones

3 // Chiral cowl  4 // Lelia Hat  5 // Cloudburst Hat for the 2016 Northwest LYS Tour

6 // Gilia legwarmers for Stranded Mag Mild Weather Issue 2016 (photo copyright Andi Satterlund)
7 // Jardiniere shawl, an exclusive collaboration with Black Wolf Ranch 

8 // Folded Lotus pattern update  9 // Spectral Lines shawl collaboration with Blissful Knits

I also vended at Knit Fit! as a standalone booth for the first time in November of 2016, which was an incredible opportunity, and one of the highlights of my year.

I am pretty fucking proud of the design and teaching work I've done in 2016. I've worked with some amazing companies, and pushed myself and grown as a creative in some really exciting ways:

Hello, first exclusive design featured by a Stitches Midwest vendor (Jardiniere!)

Hello, first 30-minute start-to-finish design proposal (Spectral Lines!)

Hello, first design in a publication (Gilia!)

Hello, first design that passed 1000 likes on Ravelry (Cloudburst Hat!)

And on a teaching note, I developed several pamphlets and class plans for informative, inspiring workshops for knitters - something that has taken me out of my comfort zone, and helped me realize how passionate I am about teaching others about creativity and self-expression.

(Maggie hat by Noriko Ho & Zara top by Dianna Walla, both finished recently and tragically unblogged as of yet!)

And lastly, all of the cool things I've been able to do in 2016 have been made possible by the folks that I count as friends, family, and community - so many of you that I tried to write a list and it got, like, wayyyy too long. I can't express how lucky and loved that makes me feel.

You all are my sparkle-makers; my confidants and supporters; the wellspring of my woolly heart. Thank you.

I can't wait to see what we create in 2017. Happy New Year.

Much love,

Cory

FO: Uncommon Vasa

   

This past June, while on working holiday with Mr Blake, I took a stroll down Camden Passage to visit the famous Loop London. He was in company meetings all day, so after sleeping off my jetlag and devouring a ham croissant in the lobby of the hotel, I set off on the train to check out the sights. It had rained the day before on my visit to the V&A, but the sky hadn't been too threatening that morning, so I skipped the umbrella and went on my merry way to Islington.

Loop, as promised, was like a fairy cottage stuffed with wool. I spent over an hour there, growing a little collection of yarn that I carried around like a puppy in my arms. (Gift yarn for friends! Gift yarn for me! When in London, amirite?!) Then, as I poked around in the laceweight section downstairs, an afternoon rainstorm rolled in, and I had to stay a little longer than I had planned. So I stood there with an armload of yarn as the rain tapped its knuckles across the glass, and I breathed in the smell of wool and wet cobblestone from the open door and thought: this must be what heaven feels like.

When the rain finally let up, I left, carrying two precious skeins of Viola Merino Fingering in Speckled Mist (a special colorway just for Loop's 10th anniversary) and a skein of The Uncommon Thread Tough Sock, all part of the devious plan that was a-brewin' in my noggin:

My friend Sara and I had been kicking around the idea of a little seasonal sweater knitalong, as a way to keep accountable on our sweater knitting and have some fun along the way. Vasa was our first pattern choice: a drapey, universally flattering top, designed by Dianna Walla, a talented designer and delightful human to boot.

The only problem with the whole thing was my lack of suitable yarn, which is hilarious considering how much yarn I actually own. (Hint: it's a lot.) But then, with a well-timed trip to Loop, and the exciting possibilities of knitting with gorgeous UK (and hard-to-find Canadian) yarns, my problem was solved!

A month or so later, I cast on, and it became my at-home movie knitting until recently, when I finally bound off and blocked the darn thing.

Did I make it in time for the season, friends? I did not. Did I end up with a beautiful and wearable garment that will always remind me of walking around London on a rainy afternoon? Yes indeed.

     

Good enough for me.

All the details, including my modifications, are on Ravelry here.

Happy Wednesday, friends.

<3

Cory

 

Onward to 2016

 

Although my usual way of wrapping up the year is to go over the highlights individually, I'm going to keep it brief this time. 2015 was a year for growth and change for me, both personally and professionally - new endeavors included teaching some classes at the fashion academy, buying our first house, cutting my hair short, and vending my first show as indie.knits - but it was interspersed with a fair bit of loss and difficulty in my personal life. I feel really lucky to have a wonderful network of family and chosen-family that helped me through this last year, and hopefully 2016 will be a bit kinder on that front.

As far as goals, I just have a few things that I'd like to focus on in the coming year.

 

Make a home.

We've been slowly putting together our space - bringing in plants, adding rugs and curtains, hanging art, replacing crappy furniture with nicer stuff - and in the new year, I want to continue to make our little house feel personalized, welcoming, and comfortable. Lumberjack and I share a very similar style - modern but eclectic, colorful but not cluttered - and I want to continue to develop that aesthetic in our home.

To spend the time finding the right thing that fits with our budget, we've had to space out a lot of our bigger purchases, which makes some parts of the house feel perpetually in-progress, but hopefully in the next year, we'll be able to finish a big chunk of the design projects on our to-do list: Lumberjack's work space, the downstairs bedroom, and the yard in particular!

 

Make art, in its own time.

I overbooked myself a whole lot in 2015, mostly because I want to do everything. So although I'm really proud of the work I did this last year, a lot of it was done at a frantic pace, with no time for rest after a big project was finished. So in 2016, I want to be mindful of my physical and creative limitations, and give myself a bit more time to recuperate after expending big reserves of energy on a project.

I really connect with what Ann Hamilton has to say about creative work, especially her thoughts on work and time, and I hope to channel a bit more of that attitude into my creative work in the next year. 

 

Take care.

Whether it's pulling weeds in the backyard, repairing a vintage dress, or going for a walk, there are little things that I can do every day to care for myself, my home, and my belongings. When I was grading Sweet Root, I took walks around the neighborhood after staring at Excel for three or four hours, and it was exactly what I needed. Though these little acts sometimes feel frivolous, it turns out that they're really excellent for cultivating a healthy work/life balance.

One of the biggest aha moments I had last year was that creativity is not sourceless, and it's also not bottomless. It's a cistern of water that you have to fill, and refill, and refill. If you add water in your downtime - going for a hike, potting some plants, painting your nails - that water will sustain you when you have to work 12 hours a day for two weeks straight. But you also have to keep filling it, especially after one of those times when you use it all up in one go.

If I think of the refilling process as a burden, it will be a burden - but if I think of it as something exciting that I'm challenged to do, it becomes much more gratifying.

 

Choose happiness - and don't be afraid to use it.

One of the side effects of having less stuff is the opportunity to use and enjoy all of the things that I do have. When I was growing up, I often felt as though nice things were for other people, and if I did have something nice, I didn't want to use it for fear of messing it up - and unconsciously, I extended much of this attitude of self-denial into my adult life.

I would buy gorgeous cashmere yarn, only to have it sit in my stash, because I should really knit up that scratchy wool from the discount bin first. We would buy a hunk of good brie from the store and eat some of it, but have the other half go moldy because we didn't want to 'waste it' on a snack.

This self-imposed mandate of 'you should buy nice things, but you don't deserve to enjoy them in the way that you want' has gotten me stuck more times than I'd like to think about. So this year, I'm going to buy the cashmere instead of the wool from the discount bin - or better yet, to knit up that cashmere I've been hoarding as too-perfect-to-knit for four years - and I'm going to eat that brie with my fingers, straight from the fridge. Because in my estimation, life is too short not to enjoy the kindnesses that you give to yourself.

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And with that in mind, onward 2016 - Happy New Year, friends!

<3

Cory