Renee Callahan of East London Knit

One of the many vintage knitting machines at the East London Knit studio.

A day and an age ago (last October in fact) I donned the wellington boots and sensible waterproof coat and strode forth for a soggy amble along the Regent's Canal and Hertford Union Canal. The aim: to reach Hackney Wick.

And what a superbly bracing and beautiful amble it proved to be, enhanced by the fact that this raucous corner London was virtually silent. No mean feat for a city of eight million. Rain muffled all sound and the sheen of water on all the autumn colour on display in Victoria Park gave it an intensity rarely seen.

Ah! If only I hadn't had a toddler strapped in a sling to my torso! I would have taken some photos.

As it was I had to save my photographic energies for what lay ahead in Hackney Wick.
A freelance knitter had generously allowed me and the aforementioned toddler into the natural habitat of her studio.

Freelance Knitter, Renee Callahan of East London Knit.

I shall repeat that. A freelance knitter.
Yes, such people and such professions do exist.

Let me introduce you to Renee Callahan of East London Knit. An American expat in London, Renee (like my goodself) originally studied the History of Art. In her case Early Modern German woodcuts. You know, Albrecht Altdorfer et al. Anyhoo, one MA dissertation later she wisely jumped ship... onto a foundation art course at Camberwell before taking the BA (Hons) in Fashion Design with Knitwear at Central Saint Martins.

Apparently this seeming chaos of yarn and twiddly bits on a knitting machine do make sense. Thanks be for the likes of Renee who understand such things.

Soon after graduating Renee had the chance to acquire the contents of knitting studio belonging to a textile artist in Hampstead. That meant many spools of yarn in a vast spectrum of colours and a number of knitting machines came under Renee's charge. And, she freely admits, a spool or two of mystery yarn whose provenance is excitingly dubious.

So much yarn. Here the greens are gathered together...

Thus armed, Renee began her career as a freelance knitter.

But what, precisely, does that entail?  Picture the scene: A designer has a bolt of inspiration. THE VISION, a key piece for their next collection. A jumper! Some sort of melange of yarns, colours, texture the like of which has never been seen before. Which is all very well and good but said designer isn't quite sure how to make it a reality. Knitwear is a very different beast to fabric garment construction. There's all that technical, well,  knitting stuff to deal with. And what about sourcing the perfect yarns that would produce the closest drape or sheen to that in THE VISION? 

Cue Renee. Or rather, cue phone ringing or email arriving in the studio and much discussion about THE VISION; the practicalities, the technicalities, the sourcing the yarn, the deadline and the cost. Renee then has a ponder, a play, occasionally dismantles and then develops the piece. As well producing as the completed knitwear required for a collection's show, she also has a role as a teacher of sorts to the designers. Explaining how this knitwear malarky works, why something may look stunning in a fabric but somewhat meh once knitted if not completely impossible to construct... in effect how to make any future VISIONS as feasible as possible.

That's the main part of Renee's freelance knittery life. A pretty varied and terribly interesting one, wouldn't you say? Some of her past work is also rather fascinating as it gives a glimpse of how the intellectual property of a design is bought, sold and distributed around the world. Have a look at Renee's swatches.

Clearly, I'm not talking about about those Swiss watches that almost all of us wore in the 1980s and 90s. No, no, no.

These knitted swatches are unique combinations of stitches, colours and yarns put together to make the front half of a small jumper. The rights to these combinations are sold - through independent swatch companies who commission the swatches' development - at trade shows like major knitwear fest Pitti Filati or directly to fashion labels. The freelance knitter is paid for their efforts if a swatch is chosen and the swatch then goes on to become legions of completed jumpers or maybe the pattern inspiration for other pieces that in-house designers can use.

...whilst the yellows congregate next door...

It's captivating stuff, seeing the network / economic behemoth that brings the creative and technical developments of one person in a studio to an awful lot of consumers.

Now from the macro to the micro and a return to the studio where Renee creates her own work and designs. The East London Knit personalised scarves have a corner of Not On the High Street. All of these activities are based around her knitting machines but a recent foray into the world of hand knit design is proving exciting.

For example, there is Renee's Asterisks shawl, * the first of what will be a monthly release of new patterns. Her blog, EastLondonKnit Shows & Tells, is also a space for musings, observations and takes her teaching to an audience beyond fashion designers. Say hello! to her very useful tutorials on more complex techniques like a Tubular Cast On. Oh, and when she finds herself at a lose end (!) there's a bit of tech editing going on, essentially proof-reading other knit designer's patterns and ensuring the final work is indeed what was intended in the written pattern.

I feel quite dizzy at the variety.

... and the purples lurk happily together in another corner.

But, but, but... unless one happens to be part of the Missoni dynasty, the sort of knitwear and textile development that Renee loves is not the easiest to make a living out of. And this after many years of study as well as technical and creative experience. As Renee comments,

"The skill and time involved with actually making things with your hands is very much undervalued today."

A sample of Renee's work. A multimedia knitted dress incorporating a polaroid photograph.

This is a theme that has been popping up on the blog; modern society's seemingly relentless push for immediate and cheap consumer goods - usually, but not limited to, fashion - that undermines much of what makes a cohesive and healthy society. Or indeed, undermines the possibility of skilled and creative individuals to survive and thrive. So why struggle on?

"I think having people who make things is important in general for the facilitation of skill and understanding, and specifically for me, making things is paramount to my understanding of the world and what it is to be human." 

Hear, hear. When that creative force, that need humanity has to make, is snuffed out... then we are truly stuffed. Let's try and avoid that eventuality and be a bit more supportive of those with a breath-taking depth of knowledge, skill and expertise. All those in favour!

Aye!

(Images: Zoë F. Willis)

* What an appropriate moment for an asterisk and an observational aside. It seems to me that shawls are making A Come Back. I think there are two reasons for this. First, they are a much larger canvas than a scarf upon which to show off patterns, colours, lacework and (obviously) your superior knitting skills.

Second, they are so dreadfully useful. Cold neck? The shawl becomes a bundly scarf. Cold shoulders? Cue warm shoulders covered in something more elegant than a jumper. Unexpected sleeping child whilst out on a jolly? Shawl becomes a blanket. Oh no! It's raining! I've just had my hair blow-dried but forgot my umbrella! Drape shawl over recently coiffed tresses and then you look like Audrey Hepburn / Sophia Loren / Jackie O sporting a woolly sort of foulard.

See what I mean? More shawls for all, please.

Happiness is... Pom Pom Quarterly

Happiness is ... Pom Pom Quarterly and enough of Kettle Yarn Co.'s Islington to make the lacy knitted top on the front cover.

Rumour has it that spring is springing in the Northern Hemisphere after a dreadfully soggy winter. Crocuses, daffodils and jonquils are appearing. Cue the sartorial rejection of dark, moody, wintery blacks, browns and navy blues and the enthusiastic embrace of soft pinks, refreshing lilacs and pale mint greens. The sun is shining and everyone is on a Vitamin D high. Who could possibly want to sit indoors and knit?

Well... there are an awful lot of things in the current edition of Pom Pom Quarterly (Issue 8) that kinda make you want to linger on the sofa. Just for a moment or two. Whilst you order the appropriate amounts of Kettle Yarn Co.'s Islington or Jamieson's Spindrift for - respectively - the cover pattern of Meghan Fernandes' Waterlily or Sonja Bargielowska's Confetti. You might already have the yarns and juuuusssttt need to pop the relevant needles and notions into a bag. With the yarn. And a picnic blanket and perchance some champagne and sandwiches in a coolbox.

Because then you'll find yourself a comfy, sunny spot in a corner of a park or field and get ready to knit in and amongst the blooms.

Thus you can enjoy the best of both worlds. Knitting and the springtime outdoors whilst looking terribly picturesque.

It is marvellous to see how Pom Pom has developed in the past couple of years. From the slim notebook style of Issue 1 (five patterns and a couple of articles. Oh and a cocktail recipe. Yum.) we have a substantial periodical by Issue 8 (eight patterns, more designers from all over the world, more articles and a recipe for Bergamot Chocolate Biscuits. Boom).  The images and styling have also sharpened up by combining the photographic skills of Juju Vail and Lydia Gluck's whimsical illustrations.

I was chuffed to see Anna Maltz of the Ricefield Collective - an early interviewee of TWIHM - making an appearance in Pom Pom as both a designer and subject of an article about the Collective. Her glorious Sólja is on my big To Do List once I have knitted an item of clothing for someone (i.e. me) larger than a three-year-old.

Anna Maltz's Sólja. Fair Isle colourwork with a decidedly modern feel.

The anticipated second knitted item of clothing for someone larger than a three-year-old (which will come after the first, a navy blue version of a Heathered cardigan) will be the Waterlily pattern gracing Pom Pom's cover. I have enough of the Islington required - in the suitably named hue of "Pom". I am an English woman in Australia these days, dontcha know - and will launch very soon.

Lovely lacework. Ladybird is optional.

It was a rocky start, however, with the Islington. The skeins arrived in the post. Eeeee! The excitement! The skeins were so soft, smooth and like pastelly green gossamer. Would you expect anything less from a combination of silk and Bluefaced Leicester? I had to start unravelling asap.

Which I did. Using two door knobs instead of the patient and strong arms of an unenthusiastic volunteer for a long session of hand winding.

Catastrophe. The resultant knots looked like the visceral remains of some sort of eviscerated squidy, octopussy, woolly thing. I could not photograph it. It was the stuff of nightmares and took a couple of days to rectify. Ho hum.

Thus I went out to Morris and Sons to buy a couple of bits of technology. I don't really doooo technology. I am now the baffled user of a hand-me-down iPhone after years of a black and white Nokia. The iPhone was somewhat thrust upon me in a moment of exasperation at my backwardness by the former owners who now have handsets so sophisticated that you could probably use them on the Star Ship Enterprise.

Which leads me back to the bits of technology. A Japanese made and designed...

Skein Holder and Wool Winder!

Look at the quality plastic! This is a thing that will become an heirloom piece, handed down the generations to bring joy to all crafty ones.

Ooooh. Behold! Are they not things of beauty? And they spin. And unwind skeins and make balls of wool. It's strangely meditative. Probably not unlike using a spinning wheel or drop spindle.

La laaaaaa! La la la la laaaaaaa! Do do do doo doooo! Ahem. Did you spot the opening bars of the Star Trek theme tune there?

The skein holder in particular looks like it could have been in one of the early Start Trek episodes. Linda Lencovic of the Kettle Yarn Co. even suggested adding a tribble or two for authenticty.

Cue a scene from the Start Trek episode The Trouble With Tribbles.

WARNING : readers who deem a young William Shatner the Bees Knees might need to steel themselves before watching the following clip. He emerges from a sea of glorified pompoms. It's ever so slightly gratuitous. I think I know where the inspiration for the blush-inducing Mr. Darcy wet shirt moment in the1995 version of Pride and Prejudice came from.

But there can be no disputing the results of the new bits of technology. In the case of (wo)man versus machine when unwinding skeins I offer you Exhibit A.

I think the machines have it.

Machine ball (left) versus woman's ball (right).

And aren't I lucky it's the start of autumn here in Melbourne (Ok. So it will be in the high 20s today but the nights are getting cooler)? That gives me six months before spring arrives to get Waterlily's lacework bang on.

(Images: Zoë F. Willis)

A Crochet Collar

I'm doing quite a bit of knitting at the moment, what with cardigans for progeny, cardigans for me, temptingly beautiful lacework'd T-shirt thingies on the cover of Pom Pom Quarterly...

But I do like a bit of crochet. I love the fact that if you muck things up it's a simple case of taking out the hook, pulling the yarn and the stiches out before inserting hook back into relevant loop.

JOB DONE.

None of the soul-destroying moments of desolating realisation that you will never be able to get back the next two days of your life when your knitting needle slips out of a row before falling in awful slow motion and crashing like a cymbal upon the floor. It's bloomin' fiddly putting all those stitches on without twisting or dropping or splitting in half. Which is a pretty good incentive to be a very, very precise knitter with lightening quick reactions and some decent needle stoppers.

But back to the crochet. There's none of that faff. However I've been off the wagon for a bit so thought, before launching in to Erika Knight's chunky textured throw, I should get my hand back in. Cue a charming project of French-inspired loveliness in Simply Crochet, issue 34 I believe it was...

A collar.

Something that can make a simple T shirt or turtle neck a thing of beauty.

I'd bought some Rowan Cotton DK at Hoop Haberdashery (machine washable. The cotton yarn, not Hoop. But ease of machine washability is key to any sort of garment associated with a person under the age of 15. And mothers too. It's amazing how mucky we get.) and instead of the floral motifs suggested in the Simply Crochet pattern went with buttons instead.

So you can see the final result at the top of this post. It was a lovely, easy and quick piece to make. I should possibly have made it smaller or waited until the progeny was big enough to carry it off more like a collar rather than a lapel, but hey ho. Thus is life.



(Images: Zoë F. Willis)