All the Feels

There are more dabblers than committed artists among us and yet we, too are artists in our souls, attracted to one medium after another project after another skill after another . . . We are rather like hummingbirds who flit from flower to flower, tasting all the nectars; honeybees buzzing after pollen from blossoms to blossom.

Some of us do rather well with whatever the craft du jour, and over a lifetime there will be a new, most popular something-or-other to try: tole painting, pottery, reverse-on-glass painting, sewing, jewelry, embroidery, quilting, sewing, counted cross-stitch, calligraphy, scherenschnitte.

Oh, the finer art mediums may be challenges, as well, in our search for that unrealized spark of talent that will prove to be The One to bring satisfaction to the soul . . . or not. Eventually the sketch tablets and collection of pencils, the special papers or canvases, tubes of watercolors, acrylics and oils have been donated or ended up in a storage carton, once it became clear that the eye and hand weren’t as in tune as it was hoped or imagined.

Oh, I do speak from the experience of a true dabbler of the first order!

The hobby category has, over the years, embraced a few that continue to be revisited from time to time. Some of my efforts struck a chord of enjoyment for a time, examples still on display in various corners of my home or kindly so in the homes of family and friends who received them over the years. And there truly is a bit of pride from a bit of calligraphy here, cross-stitch there and a meaningful piece of scherenschnitte. And yet . . .

All the while, dabbling and puttering, there was an admiration, an occasional twinge of longing, for a particular fiber art – knitting. My husband’s mom wasn’t an avid expert, but I’ve cherished the sweaters she knitted for my children, passed on with so much love to my grandchildren.

So why, having tested hands and eyes, in so many ways, was I intimidated by what has been lightly called “the fine art of tying loops together”? Because watching someone wield those pointy sticks, in and out, knit and purl, strings of yard and produce such a variety of useful, wearable, long-lasting, cuddlesome and lovely objects seemed both foreign and impossible.

It was the opportunity and challenge to participate in a mission project – sweet little pullover sweaters for impoverished children-in-need – that beckoned me to take the chance that this wouldn’t turn into yet another rabbit hole. It has not!

Don’t misunderstand my creativity. I fuss and fume and struggle to make sense of some of the patterns I encounter, but oh, the joys of colors, blends and textures that enliven the senses of sight and touch! The range of colors is never-ending, while the feel of everything from the fluff of mohair, the warmth of every weight of wool, the luxury of silks and their blends with other fibers, from bulky to lace weight, the textures demand to be held, fondled and turned into an object of pride.

There is, of course, one great danger inherent in the craft of knitting. It is the “stash” – the bags, bins and containers every serious knitter has filled with what must be called an obsession of yarns. Some people go a little crazy in a hardware store, an office supply, a fabric shop or book store. Knitters lose their minds in yarn shops. Along with the stash, there’s another quirk common to all knitters to some extent – UFO’s (Un Finished Objects)!

Having entered the knitting world, I do, indeed, have a stash and a variety of UFO’s . . . maybe it is an unavoidable hazard. Yet there are more FO’s – Finished Objects – that were such a soothing, calming pastime, a joy to give away to friends and family – scarves, hats, texting mitts and socks, the occasional challenge of a special project. And those UFO’s always have a future, as well.

The tasks, themselves, call for a gentle pace, from handling the skeins of different textures, choosing color and weight of yarn for the next project to rolling it into a ball in preparation. A bag of yarn with needles and a sheet of instructions can go anywhere, any room of home or out and about where time may hang heavy.

The solutions to worries and concerns are often discovered in the repetition of a simple knit/purl; anxiety may be set aside in the concentration of cables for a pair of mitts or gloves.

A spell of loneliness may be eased away along with the stiff texture of a fine linen yarn that becomes more pliable, softer as the needles work it into something special.

There is a kinship in knitting that spans the globe and time, itself. Some historians suggest the history of knitting is as old as when men first “tied loops together to make the first fishing nets. Knitted socks found in Egyptian tombs suggest Egyptians were knitting as long ago as the 4th or 5th century B.C. A pair of sandal socks from Saudi Arabia, dating from 200 A.D. could easily pass for something modern. From those origins, the skill progressed throughout the world, following the nomads with their flocks of fiber-producing livestock.

From those ancient sandal socks

To classroom poems that inspire a child’s artwork

to 21st century royals

to my granddaughter’s fledgling efforts

with my own small projects thrown into the mix

there is peace in my soul to have joined this ancient and oh, so current realm of knitted fiber arts.