Tag: stash

A Sweater for Me

A Sweater for Me

For all the time I spend making things, very little ever gets made (or mended) for me.  I may sew for a living, but my wardrobe is riddled with holes, frayed cuffs, and is frequently held together with safety pins.  In what was quite a departure for me, as well as an excercise in discipline, I decided to both knit down my stash and be the beneficiary of the enterprise.

My sweater is off the needles, though yet to be blocked— and it needs it.  It is something of a bastardization of the beautiful Hiro pattern.  I used inappropriate yarn, lengthened the cuffs and added thumb holes, widened the collar, eliminated any waist shaping.  I still plan on adding pockets, but I haven’t decided where  or what style yet.  I made it ridiculously large to wear cross country skiing over leggings finished just in time for — ummm— spring.

I'm a big fan of thumb holes.

In Defense of Stash

I have recently come to the conclusion that much like good wine, stash is best when it has been given time to age, ferment, breathe.  We add to our stashes because we see potential and promise in the materials.  Perhaps the sun, the temperatures, the rain were just right for the grapes this year and we buy on speculation, but we don’t drink it right away.  We let it develop into its best version of itself.  Stash, too.  It needs to evolve and interact and be inspired by the amalgam of materials around it.  The insides of my studio cupboards are my version of the charred oak wine barrels.  All ingredients are waiting for the best versions of themselves to be enticed to blossom.  Just as it would be foolish to expect an infant to contribute to the household, it is equally foolish to expect the new aquisition to the stash to be immediately helpful.  We just know and love it and see what potential it has.  Perhaps, in that way, it is even more like choosing a husband–they too need to time to grow and mature.

It was a good year.

Remnants

As a fiber lover, stash management is always an issue.  Everything seems to have such intrinsic value.  And that has only been getting worse for me as I’ve been exploring rug hooking and quilting.  Every little tiny scrap is suddenly a representative of enormous value.  I don’t want to throw anything away.  This is especially true when I am working with vintage textiles, rugs, and linens.  I love discovering the new life that lies hidden in an old tea towel or tattered rug, repurposing its charm into pillows, purses, and brooches.  But what to do with the remains?  Those leftover little pieces of antiquity that lie on the cutting table?  This has become my personal challenge:  find the latent purpose of these remnants of our forebears.  They certainly wouldn’t have wasted a scrap, so why should I?

Small remnants of an antique rug find new life.
These are the perfect accent for so many styles of decor.