Fighting the Ick: Bubbles & Brights

  

One of the biggest dangers I've faced as I work towards designing full-time is the trap of thinking that creative self-care isn't work.

I've dropped into post-creative depression enough times that I should know better, but still, there it is: one day, when the work is finally out in the world and I'm proud and excited and tired, I wake up and find out that my world has constricted to the size of a raisin.

Where did the light go, when the sun is right there? Why does the sight of dirty dishes in the sink make my heart flop around in my ribcage like a sack of wet garbage? And there's the guilt, too: the stern questioning of self, the rehashing of time-honored questions like, why-must-we-do-this-again and I-thought-we-were-done-with-this-fuckery?

At this point, I think I've finally come to a solution: I put on pants. I leave the house. I go for a walk, or look at plants, or browse the local vintage mall for cool stuff. I let it be okay that I'm not working-working.

And inevitably, it's the second that I let myself stop stressing out about the work for two minutes, that the joy of possibility comes back to me. I'll be anxious and stupid and on the verge of having a screaming match with my sofa - but hey, go look at some colorful teakettles and Hawaiian-print shirts and I'm suddenly a-bursting with ideas.

So this afternoon, instead of hyperventilating on the floor of my studio for an hour, I went over the Fremont Vintage Mall and searched for treasures, with the sole intent of not stressing out about work. I didn't buy anything (although I often do; it's one of my favorite places to find cool housewares) - I just wandered around and took pictures of the textures and colors that caught my eye.

And just like that, I feel better.

<3

Cory

PS. Thank you to everyone who has favorited and commented on my recent releases on Ravelry, Instagram, and the blog - it's been really exciting to work with such great companies and publications, and I'm looking forward to doing more of it in the future! (I just gotta focus and make time to look at kitschy lamps and flamingo-shaped jewelry boxes too...)

<3<3<3

Design Notebook: Pink & Sparkles & Everything Girly

 

Yesterday, in between teaching gigs, I wandered into my friendly neighborhood big box craft store and got majorly inspired by all the sparkles. I've already written a bit about my conflicting feelings about stereotypically girly things, but thanks to some really interesting articles on the systemic devaluing of activities, objects, and people marked as feminine by culture, I've been reexamining those feelings. (A huge thank you to Sasa, who was kind enough to share those resources with me.)

So, in the past month, I've been trying to explore and embrace those more feminine aspects of my identity, by taking an open-hearted and clear-headed look at things that give my heart joy - no matter how girly or silly they might be. That, combined with an effort to let go of the paralyzing fear and perfectionism that often plague my creative work, has been a huge but extremely rewarding challenge.

So yesterday, on a complete whim, I got sparkly pom-poms, a grosgrain bow, glitter tulle, and pastel embroidery floss, and I'm making an epic, fluffy, sparkly pink and turquoise bow for my head. Who knows why? Not me!

But in the end, it's part of the process I'm discovering: the honoring of small things, the wonder of finding bright paths previously unconsidered.

Happy Friday, friends.

<3

Cory

WIP: Jeyna; Or, Embracing Enough

This year, I am trying out a new thing, which is to consciously choose and value the objects that I have in my life. That doesn't necessarily mean going through and getting rid of everything, or not buying anything ever - but does mean that I'd like to focus on quality & function over instant gratification. In my creative life, that still means experiencing new materials and allowing them to inspire me - but at the end of it, thinking about items that I already own that could fill a particular purpose, instead of taking home a whole new whack of yarn (or fabric, or whatever else.)

Luckily, I work at a yarn shop, which means I get to spend a lot of time surrounded by books, materials, and people that inspire me. And then there are blogs, which I quietly but voraciously read and love, and which are always giving me new ideas and insights.

One of my favorite reads as of late is Kat's blog, The Wayward Knitter. I love how thoughtful Kat is as a knitter and designer, and she has a distinct color sense that I find really inspiring! So when she released the Jeyna shawl pattern just a few weeks ago, I immediately knew I wanted to knit it.

The proportions are lovely, and I can see it worked up in any number of color combinations, from neutral to bold. My instinctive color choice was turquoise and black - and I knew I had some black DK weight alpaca in my stash, but the turquoise had me stumped. I even went on a yarn excursion with my mom, and had decided on another color combination entirely, and was seriously considering buying it... but then that little voice in the back of my mind gently prodded me: I already own the thing that wants to be this shawl, somewhere - I just have to find it.

  

And lo and behold, later that night in my studio, as Lumberjack patiently listened to me go on about colors while gesticulating wildly, I had a flash of inspiration: a lone skein of Abstract Fiber Alto in a deep, gorgeous turquoise - almost 400 yards, just a little more than I needed. There it was, and it was perfect.

It's funny - even thought I thrive on creative constraints in design, for some reason I had never let that idea fully translate into my knitting life. Now that I have it in mind, though, I'm excited for the possibilities and opportunities in embracing enough.

Happy Wednesday, friends!

<3

Cory

Pattern photos of Jeyna belong to Kat Riddell (2015) and are used with permission.

Inspiration: Texture + Color

One of my newest fiber loves is Rambouillet: a light, crunchy wool often peppered with soft slubs. The texture of it always makes me gravitate towards subtle, almost washed-out colors - the color of a t-shirt left in the sun too long; a piece of beachglass; a flower that's started to wilt on the vine.

 

These are three different Rambouillet yarns that I've collected in the last year and a half, and yesterday - sort of on a whim - I put them next to each other for the first time, and they sang. I've come to realize that my brain works well with patterns: shades that fit into the same color story; characteristic textures found across different fibers; accessories that coordinate but don't match.

In a moment, all three yarns told me what they wanted to be. Turns out all they needed was each other.

Although my life feels at a crossroads these days, I'm hoping that organizing my thoughts and plans from now until I graduate (hopefully Novemberish) will help me weedwhack the path forward.

And so, onward!

<3

Cory

Inspiration Library: Magazines, Catalogues & Quarterlies

  

Since taking Portfolio at school last quarter, I've become a lot more mindful of different types of media as sources of inspiration.  I already had a pretty large collection of knitting magazines and books, so in the new year I've been making it a priority to expand upon the genres in my library that are less represented: photography, history & fashion history, and graphic design in particular.

After I graduated from college, I got lazy about reading.  I equated choosing not to pursue higher academics with choosing not to care about academic subjects at all, but in the years since, I've come to find that I loved and missed those subjects a lot more than I previously thought.  It's taken me a long time to warm up to the idea of jumping back into scholarly reading on my own, but I've finally started seeking out - and enjoying - dense reading materials once again.

So as a result of my rekindled interests, my favorite media to explore lately have been catalogues, magazines, and quarterlies, particularly when they have an intersectional bent.  It's especially interesting to look at the fashions of my favorite sartorial period - immediate post-war to 1962 or so - and then contextualize them in history and culture, and then think about how they are problematic as shit, and then consider how to appreciate them without accepting or endorsing their shittier aspects.  (Still haven't figured that one out - it's a puzzle!)

I started collecting vintage pattern and clothing catalogues as a passing interest - a Frederick & Nelson catalogue from a professor here, a 1985 issue of Vogue Knitting from a friend's destash there - and somewhere in the meantime, I amassed a small collection of them.  Then, a few days ago my friend Sparkle sent me a big, fabulous addition of Vogue sewing pattern magazines and vintage clothing catalogues in the mail, and I realized that my collection is not so small anymore!  When I take the time to page through these magazines and catalogues, I see inspiration hidden everywhere - perhaps not as literal interpretations, but more as seeds of great design that are sometimes encased in '80s backassfugly details and styling.  (Case in point: huge matching angora neck ruffles and sleeve cuffs on perfectly lovely fitted blouse? Um thanks, but no.)

I've also been checking out contemporary magazines and quarterlies at my local bookstores.  Vestoj in particular gets into critical fashion theory, which is an absolute relief to find after crankily consuming contemporary Vogue for years.  The mainstream fashion industry so often leans on tired cliches of exoticism and normalized sexual violence in editorial and advertising content, which is waved away as insignificant by the industry because, well... "it's fashion," as if that explained anything.  It's a breath of fresh air to see fashion being treated like any other medium: significant, complex, reflective of culture, and worth discussing in broader terms.

Not to limit myself only to fashion, though - here are a few current favorite publications of mine.  They are all very pretty, and range from light-hearted explorations of indie design and culture, to gorgeous, challenging selections of writing and visual art.

Vestoj - fashion through an intersectional lens

Lapham's Quarterly - thematic selections of literature, essays, poetry, and art from history

Kinfolk - "discovering new things to cook, make, and do"

Uppercase - "a magazine for the creative and curious"

Sooo that was a very long explanation of what I'm reading and thinking about lately.  If you have any recommendations of magazines or quarterlies that you find beautiful, interesting, or inspiring, I'd love to hear them!

Current Obsession: Plaid!

  

For some reason, a few months ago, I started craving plaid.  (Technically the black & white is a check, not a plaid, but I'm going to group it in there anyway.)  Most of the plaids that I've been drawn to have been cotton.  One exception, though, is that gorgeous turquoise and deep blue plaid, which is the end of a bolt of Pendleton wool.  It's perfectly wooly, but still lightweight, and the colors are saturated and gorgeous, and I'm getting all wistful just thinking about it.

The newest addition is the watermelon print, which I found in the flat cut cotton print section of Pacific Fabrics - usually mostly quilting cottons, but this was a lucky find!  It's a woven-in pattern rather than a printed one, with a nice drape to it, and I thought it was perfect for a sundress.  (Hello, summer picnics!)  Sometimes prints get a little too twee for me - as much as I like cute and/or tiny prints, it's hard to pull off "I'm adorable and so is this teddy bear print" when you're a grown-ass lady.

I can probably blame this recent plaid obsession on these two dresses.  Both are vintage, and I ended up wearing them a ton this summer, feeling super cute all the while.  There's something sharp about plaid, and yet sort of cheeky.  Not all plaids make my heart sing - some of them read too pajama or schoolgirl-y - but I've found that my tastes don't really adhere to any rational patterns.  I love traditional and unusual color combinations alike, and each plaid has a very different character that dictates the design decisions that I'd make with them.  I'm  planning to copy the general design of the yellow plaid sundress, and improve the fit, using the Pendleton plaid, but the black and white check wants to be a fuller, '50s style dress with a bias-cut bodice and close-fitting sleeves.

Last but not least, I will also fully admit that I play favorites in my stash, and this one is teacher's pet.  It's silk taffeta, and it sings of Alexander McQueen.  I'm going to design a ballgown based on it - I haven't decided on a lot of the elements, but one idea I like is short raglan sleeves with cream lace accents.  One of the tricky things will be to keep the design from going too Christmas-y, but I'm hoping that it will read more classic, because this fabric deserves better than becoming a festive disaster.

What do you think of plaid?

Style Inspirations

Lead singer of Foxy Shazam, Eric Sean Nally.

Lumberjack, my brother, my friend Derek, and I went to see a show by The Darkness this last Saturday.  A glam-rock band from Cincinnati called Foxy Shazam opened - and absolutely stole the show.  The lead singer was all over the place: dancing frenetically, throwing his mike around the stage, collapsing to the ground and getting up again the space of three or four seconds - not to mention that his voice sounds like a close cousin of Freddy Mercury's.  The other band members got in on the fun, too: at one point, the keyboardist went crowdsurfing - with his keyboard.  And at the end of their set, the lead singer smoked three lit cigarettes, took a ride around the stage on his bassist's shoulders, and then ate the cigarettes whole.

Their showmanship and musicality seemed to epitomize the greatest of glam-rock, with tight pants, dramatic hair, sequined vests, and thrilling, spectacular, unstoppable energy.  From the second they walked on stage, you couldn't look away from them.  I loved the in-your-face style and badassery of the whole show, and I absolutely adore the fact that these guys stomp around the stage bursting with a potent male sexuality while wearing sequins, scarves, and eyeliner.  Screwing around with gender norms seems to be one of the major hallmarks of glam-rock and hair metal, and I like it.

Dior's New Look, as illustrated by Gruau.

On a totally different note, I've also been pretty immersed in fashion history books.  I have a big stack of huge books on Art Deco fashion, '40s and '50s couture, Yves Saint Laurent, and different types of lace from history.

It's been fascinating to look at early 20th century fashion, because fashion illustrations played an integral role in both portraying fashion and creating the sense of glamour associated with couture and early ready-to-wear designs.  It's also interesting to see how the popular body type and facial shape change over the years: in the 1910s-1920s, it was all about long lines, thin eyebrows, and round faces, where towards the 1940s the trim, but slightly shapely figure was popular - with very little yardage used due to rationing - and then finally in 1947 Dior introduced the New Look, with the tiny waist and the full skirt as a sign of the decadent post-war period.

Even though I'm not the biggest fan of world politics in the late '40s and early '50s, they are definitely my favorite decades for fashion.  So many shapes and silhouettes of that time period are still such classics that I'd say it's as close to timeless as fashion will ever get: the little black dress, the fit-and-flare dress, little tailored suits, and perfectly fitted trenchcoats.  Sigh.

Coat inspired by an onion flower head, by Issey Miyake.

As you may be able to tell, I'm a little all over the place.

One of the other books I got at the library was a retrospective of Issey Miyake's work, particularly from the '80s.  The clothes are as much pieces of art as fabric: he plays with pleats, volume, material, and shape in such an innovative way that has clearly influenced the current generation of designers.

This coat and hood set in particular was my favorite from the book; it's a knit coat made from wool and nylon mesh, and I love the interplay of textures and the strange yet organic shape.  It makes me think of Setsuko Torii's knitwear designs, with her use of metal-blended yarns that give fabrics a new dimension.  I like that it's a different way of thinking of fashion: clothing not simply as body coverings, but not so isolated from the body as two-dimensional art, either.  At times it seems like these pieces don't belong on the body, yet without a body in them they would lose their internal structure.

I also love that there's a different context for his designs than the typical Western fashion fare: in the book, you can see echoes of the breastplates of samurai armor, kimono and hakama (Japanese-style trousers), shibori and indigo-dyed textiles.  

Conclusion?  What Conclusion?

Overall, there aren't necessarily any connecting threads in these three modes of style, but I find them all equally compelling.  With so much information coming in all the time from school, books, and events, it's a little overwhelming, but it's nice to single out a few and find some focus.  Maybe someday my spongey brain will figure out what these things have in common and give it a name.

On Inspiration and Changing Perceptions

The past couple of months have been a learning experience for me in a few major and unexpected ways.  In addition than the basic skills I'm picking up from my classes, I'm also starting to think about inspiration and creativity in a really different way.  Where before, I always thought that a creative person should be able to come up with  ideas in a vacuum, fashion school is constantly reminding me that everything is connected, and thus, inspiration is everywhere.

Part One: In Which Our Hero Is Humbled

I had a moment back when I was a pretty new knitter where I thought I was the coolest shit.  See a pretty hat in a magazine?  I could totally figure out that stitch pattern if I wanted to!  See a sweater that I like in a store?  It's a knee length, black cobweb-weight lace knit, whatever - I could totally make that!  I was so hopped up on this idea that I could do anything that I want that I forgot two important things:

1.  Valuing other people's creative work is important, because if you don't, they may not keep making it.  This is one of the biggest reasons that I buy patterns by independent knitwear designers, and sometimes pay a little more for handmade: because when it comes to designers, my voice is in my dollars.  This is twofold for me, because someday I want to be one of those designers.  So I try to give the support that I would want to receive.

2.  Sometimes, and by sometimes I mean most of the time, reinventing the wheel is boring, and the thought of actually knitting 6 billion yards of black lace fabric makes me want to curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep in a locked room.  If I want that sweater right now, I should probably just buy it instead of kidding myself into thinking I'll actually make it, or worse yet, instead of being so delusional that I actually go out, buy the yarn, start the project, and then set it on ritual fire six years later when I realize that it's a total and disastrous waste of time.

I finally got out of that rut a while back, but I was definitely reminded of it when I bought the magazines above.  A few years ago, my cocky little self would have been all but I can just make my own patterns why should I buy magazines and books la la la, but my super-awesome-creative-work-valuing self of today is all over that shit.  When I see something that I like, I give myself the permission to like it instead of beating myself up that I didn't think of it first.  It's been very freeing.

Part Two: In Which Our Hero Appreciates Her Own Nice Points, Too

This last week I had my second day of History of Costume.  One of our assignments was to come up  with two outfits based on the period of history we had talked about the class before.  At the beginning of class, we each showed our sketches and talked about our inspirations.  The picture above is a rough sketch I did inspired by Egyptian gala dresses, which were white, sheer dresses with a red sash tied in a particular way at the waist, like so:

It was interesting to see what everyone had come up with given the same basic task, and it made me appreciate how different our brains are.  I enjoyed drawing this assignment, and I actually liked the outcome, too.  It was a nice reminder that inspiration really is just another a raw material for the creative process.  It may or may not be apparent what the inspiration was when you step back and look at the finished product, but no matter what, if it was a springboard that got your mind to the right place to create something you like, it did its job.

It was also a nice reminder that I can, on occasion, create things that I'm happy with.  Which is really nice to remember when you've just royally fucked up sewing a flat fell seam for the zillionth time.

Part Three: In Which Our Hero Gives Herself Permission To Be A Sponge (And Like It)



One of my main reasons for thinking so much about creativity and originality is this awesome web series: Everything Is A Remix.

The basic premise is that literally everything that has been created, from fashion to food to movies, is based upon or inspired by something else.  And there's a bunch of cool and/or downright fascinating illustrations of that point.

Speaking of freeing: since everything you could possibly do or make has already been done by someone else before in both better and abysmally worse ways, there are no limits in what you can try.  It also removes this idea that somehow, you have to be "original".  And although I think that sometimes constraints can be good, especially for making you focus on a topic or project, this particular one is dumb and counterproductive.  While wholesale copying of someone's personal design or thought is never good, being afraid to create things for fear that they may not be original enough kills creativity before it even sprouts.

So part of my goal this year, in both fashion school and knitting, is to be a total sponge.  Rip up magazines.  Read lots of blogs.  Listen to lots of music and sing along.  Give myself permission to be unoriginal, to copy and learn from people who are great at what they do (while giving full credit where it's due, of course).  Appreciate creative people and their work, and let them be an inspiration for me.

And lastly, the yarn I just bought above is from Pigeonroof Studios, a silk/cashmere/merino laceweight blend, and I love it passionately.  It's a pale blue-green, and it's completely outside of my color comfort zone.  But I love it, for some strange and compelling reason.  And I'm going to trust that gut feeling and make it into something beautiful and lacy and completely unoriginal.

Egyptian image copyright wikipedia

Things I Love, April Edition

Fluevog Belle Star in Aqua Blue

J Shoes Claude in Oxblood

Bird Nest Necklace, from Etsy seller pinkingedgedesigns

Muse Belt, Carmine Red, by Etsy seller MuseBelts

Awesome Starboard Cape from Summer 2011 Knitscene

by Courtney Kelley

Comfy USA sundress from Artful Wears

Mod inspiration, from Of Another Fashion

This blog is really cool - it showcases beautiful vintage fashion photographs of women of color.  This picture captures such a great attitude, and I'm sort of obsessed with the color combo (red + turquoise).

Green Sleeves maxi dress, from idea2lifestyle on Etsy

I found this shop about a month ago, and I love her designs.  The green is stunning.

Overall themes: turquoise, maxi dresses, vintage-inspired styling, bows & belts, stuff you can wear when it's over forty degrees outside.

Now, if only spring would come (and stay)...

All images copyright of the aforementioned sellers and blogs.

weird christmas

The family and I went to the beach this year for Christmas, as we have every year since I was fourteen. Well, actually, we went to Winthrop and rented a cabin in the snow the first year, but I think the five-hour drive with a blind, cranky old corgi mutt whining and farting in the backseat was a little too much for all of us. In any case, we've started going to Ocean Shores instead, which is a small, windy little town on the Washington coast. We eat coffee cake, watch a lot of movies, and I usually knit enough socks to clothe the feet of a small army. This year wasn't an exception, although there was definitely something different about it. Maybe it was the recession, or maybe Christmas just feels a little frantic and grasping this year because I'm old and disenchanted with college and probably just the world (just to be a little more melodramatic). Insert "damn kids and their ____ " gripe here.

But there's good things too. Every year we visit this little shop that sells pieces from local artists. I've always found lovely little things - a handmade iron Celtic barrette, a necklace - and this year was no exception. I loved all of this artist's pieces, but this one in particular caught my eye. The price was incredibly low for a necklace, especially with the amount of detail that went into it. I love everyday objects that are incorporated into jewelry - coins, keys, and little metal rings. This one has a little bead with a hat that looks like an acorn.

Hanging out with my parents and brother has been great too, especially since I only come home twice a year. I've been going for walks on the beach and having some serious cuddle time with this little gremlin. He's the new family dog, and although my parents were informed that he was some sort of chihuahua mix, they suspect that he's actually a Cairn Terrier mutt. He's got quite the underbite going on, he chews inappropriate objects, and he goes from zero to nap in five seconds on the lap of anyone willing to pick him up. He's sort of stinky and neurotic, and he's really growing on me. (Hopefully not like a fungus.)

His name is Buddy, and he just wants to be your friend, gosh darn it.

Anyhow. Hope everyone who celebrates Christmas had a wonderful one, and for those who don't, I hope your December 25th was extremely relaxing. And full of cookies.

What's good today

Sundara Sport Silk in colorway Green Tea. I don't usually go for yellow-greens, but this one is absolutely luminous. (Photograph copyright Sundara Yarn)

And just the name reminds me of Japan, in particular, a long ride on the shinkansen to Osaka a few days after we arrived. I was sixteen, I was wearing unfortunate slacks and a polo and eating sweet, bitter green tea ice cream from the food cart with a splintery little wooden stick, and I was feeling really, really overwhelmed and scared. Then the train went around a corner and out the window I saw this huge mountain of bright green bamboo and kuzu, speckled with bright white cranes, and suddenly everything felt like it might be ok.

So there are positive associations.

perfectly imperfect

Bought a necklace today. It's been a long, weird week so far, and I've been itching to cast on something wooly... but with very little time and patience, it hasn't happened yet.

I've been thinking about getting one of these necklaces for a while. I love the weight of it, and the simplicity. We've been reading about the Japanese aesthetic of the "perfectly imperfect" in the 7th century, and for some reason the wood combined with the stone and slightly oxidized metal (pewter, maybe?) makes me remember that imperfect is not only realistic, it's usually quite beautiful.