Eight hundred forty-seven

Yesterday I showed you the handmade donations from our sale going into their box and one step closer to the children for whom they were created.  Today I want to showcase the customers and the beautiful, warm, colorful accessories they took home.



Claire snagged this Malabrigo slip-stitch infinity scarf by yours truly.



As this student donates his cabled scarf, he's hanging onto a striped tasseled crochet scarf by Ariel.



This supporter donated a baby blanket and got Ashley H.'s big fleece throw with a music motif for his very own.



Vice President Gale has a huge haul behind that red earflap hat he's donating -- a white cashmere scarf by me, red fingerless gloves by Brittany, and a yellow ski hat by Molly.



How happy is this student to be getting Emma's pink variegated scarf and Kearstin's yellow lace headband?



Jennifer is thrilled to be acquiring Brittany's white headband embellished with a crochet flower, while she donates a blue hat to a CASA child.



One of my favorite pieces in the sale was Bethany's ribbed scarf in self-striping yarn, bought by Justin.



Justin is modeling the other piece is bought -- far-flung supporter Diane's rugged wool hat with knotted cables.



This customer acquired my bamboo blend single-cable reversible scarf in my favorite color -- true red.



Infinity scarves! They're so versatile and contemporary, and this patron got the perfect color for our campus: UCA purple a la Brittany.



Paulette bought a pair of cozy fingerless gloves and a handful of crochet flowers, all generously made for us by talented supporters.



Love these bobbled mittens made by Craft Wisely alumnus Tamami and bought by Brittany E.



Tamami's not just a crafter -- she's also a customer. She purchased this clutch I made to use as a cosmetic bag.



Class member Ashley H. (left) was lucky enough to snag this magnificent hat made by the prolific and talented Brittany.



This young man has a definite eye for style, as proven by his selection of Brittany's stunning orange infinity scarf.



Happy students with a beautiful fringed scarf made by our supporter Jenny.



How about this hip guy with a bold purple and orange skater beanie courtesy of Tamami?



Talented supporter Amber made dozens of these crocheted flowers which were in high demand as hair and clothing accessories or decor, as this customer (a crafter herself!) demonstrates.



One of the final items purchased was this horse-themed fleece blanket made by Debra, a faculty supporter. It perfectly matched this customer's Western purse.



Amber's flowers closed out the sale thanks to my colleague Adam and this enthusiastic booster.

Eight hundred forty-seven dollars -- that's the total that all these wonderful, wonderful people contributed. For their money they received the work of our hands and the gratitude of our hearts, not to mention the spiritual and communal benefits of contributing to children in our county for whom we as a society have taken responsibility.

Practice, practice, practice

Next week my seminar on handcrafting will convene for its first class.  I'm revising and reworking the syllabus extensively after debuting it last fall.

One of the changes I made was to ask students to begin posting on the class blog during the summer.  I had them fill out a survey about their current expertise, then assigned them to learn to knit, learn to crochet, or master an advanced knitting skill if they already had experience with both crafts.  Each student will post on the class blog to report on their learning process and show off their work.

In the next few days I expect a flurry of posts, but several students have already shared.  Holly is hoping that she'll be able to loosen up so her stitches come off the needles more easily -- and that the gerbils that power her home computer get some 5-Hour Energy shots.  Kearstin is knitting a scarf for her cousin with Knit Picks Palette yarn (one of my favorites, but very fine weight -- I hope she's using appropriate needles and stitch pattern). Ashley has hit upon the excellent idea of practicing various stitches by making squares for a blanket. Molly has mastered cabling with the help of Debbie Stoller, but is now dealing with the dreaded stockinette tube effect. Ashley R found a YouTube video that helped her produce a lovely ribbed swatch.  Check out grayfox's crochet -- not just a practice swatch, but also a perfect granny square!  And NoMercySedia has big plans for something in Slytherin colors, or at least she did back in July; I'm looking forward to finding out how those plans worked out when she makes her second post.

Having the students post during the summer was a good brainstorm.  They are telling their stories, revealing their frustrations, asking the right questions and taking pride in their efforts.  I hope you'll subscribe to the blog and follow their adventures (and those of their classmates) all semester long.  And I hope all my changes to the syllabus work out as well.

Cube by cube

Today's post about my awesome crafting area in progress is at Toxophily.



 Pictures galore!  Just ignore the wallpaper and carpet.  Yeah, I know we should have replaced them before I put a bunch of new furniture in the room.  Someday.

Creative space

Back when Archer used to bring us his "If I Drove A Tractor Trailer" book to read several times a day, Noel used to get especially wistful about the description of the little sleeping space behind the truck's cab, complete with its own TV.  I understand the impulse to have a nook for yourself.

That's why I've been planning all summer to turn a rather large corner of our bedroom into a craft storage and work space.  Three weeks ago I moved the computer to Archer's room and got rid of the big desk that used to occupy that corner.  On Monday the furniture was delivered; on Wednesday I built the storage unit;  last night I built the table.  Cady Gray and I spent Saturday morning packing the unit with yarn; I worked on needles and tools today.



Just as storage, this is going to be an improvement; easier to get to, more spacious, better organized. I was surprised to find that the yarn that had overflowed four big Rubbermaid tubs and several storage crates -- the yarn that runs to several pages in Ravelry's stash in list view -- all fit in the 25-cube Expedit.

I'll have a full and photo-rich chronicle of the tranformation in the next week or two. But right now I'm thinking about that desire for a little cozy space to live and work. People who make things are rather obsessive about their studios, craft rooms, and organizational schemes, as a look around the internet will tell you. Such spaces are partly about facilitation, but partly about inspiration -- an arrangement and decor that we imagine will unlock our ability to create.

My surreptitious aim in reworking this area is to facilitate and inspire my nascent sewing skills.  Right now I have to set up and take down my sewing machine on the dining room table if I want to use it, which is quite a production.  The desk and table I put in my new craft area is intended to give the machine a home and to provide a space for associated tasks, like cutting and pressing.  So will I sew more now that I've set up everything the way I think will be perfect?

Just can't wait

Because the kids are in Little Rock at a summer camp this week, and don't get home with their designated parent (or carpool driver) each day until about 90 minutes after I get off work, I find myself at home with a bit of alone time around dinner.  I really shouldn't be left by myself when there are boxes of furniture awaiting assembly.  It gives me ideas.

I was going to wait to assemble the big Expedit shelf unit, desk, and worktable that will constitute my new crafting area until the weekend.  But while I was waiting for Noel to bring the kids home from the city, I started looking at websites and videos showing the assembly.  I started to get antsy.  And when the rest of my family walked in the door, I was stacking up empty boxes in the hallway and inventorying all the pieces.

Commentary on the web suggested that the large 25-cubicle square could be assembled in as little as 30-40 minutes.  With some trepidation, because I wasn't sure I understood how the pieces went together and because I tend to be a blind follower of instructions, I took the advice of Ikeafans.com and put both sides on first, then stood it up and put all the shelf and vertical pieces in from that position.  It was an absolute breeze.  I couldn't believe how fast it all went together.  Within an hour of turning the first screw, I was turning the last one.  It was so effortless that I went ahead and put the attached desk together, too.

I also got a trestle table, but it's just a bit too wide for the space that's left between the desk and the wall, unless we move our bed a bit so there will be more room on that side.  I may not be able to resist setting it up even so, though; I'm so close to the crafting space I had envisioned that I think I could deal with having to squeeze through on my way to bed temporarily.  I'll post pictures soon.

Now I get the joy of moving all my yarn and equipment into my new space -- maybe the part I've been looking forward to most, since it involves getting reacquainted with my stash.  Can I hold off long enough to let Cady Gray help, as she has pleaded?  My self-control just isn't the best when it comes to new spaces, new organization, new inspiration.

Sharing time

A few links of recent interest:

- As our kids begin to use the internet more, we wonder whether we've given them enough guidance to keep them safe and help them use good judgment. This online curriculum on digital literacy looks like it might improve their understanding of online communication, which I think is more important than a collection of rules.

- After my freshmen focused on spontaneity, altruism, and community pride in their service project last semester, I'm intrigued by this study of heroism. I wonder whether it might spark ideas among a future group of students about what conditions lead to individuals doing extraordinary things.

- How about this craft to do with your kids this summer? Klutz has a new book with everything you need to make bouquets of papercraft flowers. And Craftzine posted a free rose project from it to whet your appetite. I think Cady Gray would love to try this with me.

In the crowd

So much ink has been spilled about how the internet affects us.  Y'all know how I feel -- I think the opportunities afforded by online connection far outweigh the problems or potential losses involved.  One area that is not sufficiently appreciated, in my view, is the creation of crowds.

I think people understand (although may not bring to consciousness often enough) that the internet overcomes isolation and helps people find support groups.  Where you live, there might be no one else with your particular problem -- or no one willing to talk about it.  Online, you can find hundreds -- or hundreds of thousands.  Knowing you are not alone is one of the most powerful steps toward dealing in a healthy way with your challenges, whatever they may be.

But just as important, affecting just many people, is another crowd-creating phenomenon -- that of inspiration and empowerment.  I've written before about the experience of going online and finding that the activity you want to learn isn't beyond your abilities, because you can find example after example of people doing it -- people just like you.

That experience lasts well beyond the novice stage, the hurdle of learning and becoming proficient at your chosen activity.  It remains startling to me, many years on, just how big that crowd can be.  Today is Sew, Mama, Sew's Giveaway Day, a blogosphere-wide holiday for handcrafters.  Hundreds of blogs all over the world are participating; the link above is only one of three master lists of giveaways.  That may not sound impressive until you realize that almost every one of those sites are focused on providing resources for others to participate in the craft.  They host tutorials, provide patterns, and demonstrate the possibilities of the activity.  For every site in the list, there are dozens -- hundreds -- sometimes thousands of followers making things of their own.

And lest you forget that, sometimes those followers appear in a crowd, all together, all at once, their work providing vivid proof that the world is full of more people making and creating and forging their own creative, beautiful environments than you usually let yourself imagine.  Flickr pools collecting multiple versions of a certain design, or all the things people have made out of a certain material, or variations on a motif theme.  Hundreds.  Thousands.  Just in this little corner of all the things you could make, or all the materials you could use.

The internet has this power to aggregate.  And the potential of aggregation is its forceful demonstration of what is possible.  I can no longer pretend that everyone thinks this is hard, that everyone has trouble doing it, that it is a lost art.  In fact, I'm actively annoyed now when people talk to me about my knitting and imply that no one does this anymore.  Open your eyes! I want to say.  There are millions of people knitting, there are thousands of people making and selling yarn and designing patterns.  How can you miss this?  How has it not crossed your consciousness?  Are you blind?

I want to say to them: Look, I am here to prove to you that you could do this, if you chose.  But you could tell yourself, I suppose, that I'm specially talented -- different from you.  If so, please have a look at the hundreds of thousands like me who not only do this but go to the trouble of posting on the internet what they have done.  Imagine that for each of them there are a handful or a roomful or a town-full of people doing it who do not bother to post about it on the internet -- the invisible fellow travelers.  Now do you see that you have no excuse?

Go and look.  Then do.  You may become an exception in your workplace, in your neighborhood, in your suburb.  But you are not an endangered species in the world.  You are part of a massive movement.  People fear that the message of the internet is observe, comment, be above it all, be a parasite.  I disagree.  Open the right door -- the right million doors -- and the message is: Do.  As we are doing.

Getting past "can't"

The always-intriguing Joe Hoyle blogs today about students -- and teachers -- who claim they just can't succeed in their classes.  To the student who says, "No matter what I do, I can't seem to get an A in that course," and the instructor who says, "No matter what I do, I just can't get those students to learn the material," Joe says: What if you were offered $10 million if you did what you just said you couldn't do?

In that case, I believe we'll all agree, the student who find a way to get an A, and the instructor would find a way to reach those unreachable students.  Which reveals, Joe says, that it's not a problem of ability, but a problem of motivation.  What these people are saying is really "I can't succeed within the parameters of what I am willing to do."

For some weeks now I've been bothered by a few memories from my crafting class -- memories that fit into a pattern I frequently witness among other friends and on social networks.  "Oh, I just don't get knitting charts."  "I could never make socks."  "Lace (or cables or colorwork or whatever) is beyond me."

It's simply not true.  These are smart people.  They learned to manipulate complex symbol systems as children.  They have aced organic chemistry, raised children, served souffles, become fluent in Japanese, filled out IRS forms.  I think they believe themselves when they say they can't do it.  But it's shorthand for some far more complicated statement.  "I consider myself a beginner, and that is an advanced skill.""I'm not willing to make the effort to figure out a chart when I can muddle through with written directions and get the same result."  "I can't picture the process of doing this, so I prefer to believe it's utterly mysterious."

If they really wanted to, of course they could do whatever is under discussion.  Their excuses or self-deprecation all come down to this: "My desire is not strong enough to overcome my inertia."

Putting it that way might just shock somebody into hearing their excuses for what they are.  I'm in favor of being honest with yourself, always, and I think what bothers me when I hear people say things like this is that they are not being honest with themselves.  If they are happy with their skills the way they are, say so.  But if they contend that acquiring new capacities as a student, teacher, or maker is something they actually want to do, then they shouldn't pretend that some immovable object -- their own inadequacy or the impenetrability of the task -- is blocking their way.

Outcomes

As we prepare our syllabi and plan our curricula, ideally we are thinking about objectives.  We list what knowledge and skills we want our students to acquire during our classes, and craft activities and assignments linked to those objectives.

What's interesting about our job as teachers is that there's a constant tension between those course objectives and larger goals -- the goals of degree programs, of graduate schools, of the professions for which we're preparing them, of families, communities, nations, the human race.  There is supposed to be some alignment among those sets of goals; they should express similar values or point toward a shared vision of the good.  We know, however, that we have little or no control over those bigger spheres.  So sometimes our course objectives are parochial -- even, perhaps, trivial.

It's when we think about what our objectives might be if their success was measured not at the end of the course, but weeks, months, or years after the final exam, that we might see the connections.  Many of us have had the experience of students telling us what our course meant to them years later.  Even more striking is when we see the learning and the transformation with our own eyes, not in an e-mail or a card or a phone call, but in the actions of our students.

I had the members of my Craft Wisely class join Ravelry at the beginning of our time together.  Now that the course is over, I'm realizing that I'm going to be able to witness some of the effects of the course as their activity on the site pops up on my feed.  Over the break, as I checked my "friends activity" (a Ravelry feature that accumulates the projects and photos posted, favorited, planned, and discussed by your friends on the site), I saw the holiday gifts my students made for their families and friends.  I saw their aspirations soar, through the patterns and projects they marked as their favorites -- signaling the items and techniques they find inspiring, or would like to try someday.  And I saw their future plans in the patterns they placed in their queue and the yarns they added to their stash.

It's not all the students in the class who continue to be active knitters and crocheters, of course.  But how cool is it that I can see how the course affected -- and continues to affect -- some of those who participated, by observing their ongoing involvement in the activities around which the course revolved? Not only is it gratifying to see them continue to participate in handcrafting, it also refocuses my gaze beyond the intramural concerns of the course and toward the broader ways I want my students' lives to be changed.

Made by hand

Our society is divided into those who make with their hands, and those who make with their minds.

So too is our education divided into the liberal arts and vocational training. We train the mind, or we train the body; and especially in the former instance, we sometimes find it hard to deal with the ways in which motions of the body are involved in the motions of the mind.

There is some acknowledgement that manual skills are worthwhile in the sciences. More open and consistent are the fine arts; think how integral the body and its training is to the production of musicians, sculptors, and actors.



But it takes only a moment's reflection on the athletic department, and on the debates it raises in the context of education, to see how thoroughly we tend to separate the mind and the body in our practice.



One of the most intriguing experiences of my upper division class on handcrafting, now drawing to a close, has been the attempt to reintegrate the work of the hand and the work of the mind. At every class, students' hands have been busy, knitting, crocheting, winding yarn. At every class, too, we have worked through ideas in vigorous, sometimes knotty discussions.



The last time we met, we engaged our hands in a new workshop activity -- wrapping our work for presentation to those for whom we made it. We bent our minds to the task of making sure everyone on our list was cared for.



While I cross-checked our roster of handmade hats with the list of recipients, students came forward in a steady stream to assume the tasks of cutting, labeling, fastening, and tying.



What connects the mind to the hands? The learning process itself, where we transform language and perceptions into understanding and finally replication. That day, as at every class meeting, someone showed someone else a new technique or a more efficient movement. The learner watched, formed an image of how to do it in his imagination, then tried it himself. So was the mind formed and the hands trained together.



And then we used our hands to reach out. To pass along their work.



To touch. To give.  To hold.  To lead.



As we stirred, we were stirred.  As we created, we were created.  Connecting minds and hands turned out to entail more than our own minds and our own hands.  Some of the hands we touched, the ones that opened our packages and fitted our hats to their children's heads, will someday make something themselves -- re-enacting the images at the top of this post.  What could be a better argument for an education that bridges the divide between mental and manual work?

Blammo

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Tonight a dozen or so local knitters, crocheters, and allies, aged 20 to 70, covered a downtown park in yarn.




I made this wrap for one of the pillars that holds up the bandstand. 64 inches long.




The shiny reddish purple crochet pelt is also my creation. Trust me, you're glad it's out of focus.




Some of the donated material was absolutely gorgeous. Look, this lamp cozy has cables! Cables!




My student Kate made a tree scarf. The woman in the background watched us for several minutes with her car door open, asking questions and preventing other cars from getting in that parking space.




The Sensible Seamstress sent this piece all the way from Kansas City, where even the crocheted trees are up to date.




Sewing the pieces on was a little like lacing a corset. What was stunning was watching these flat strips and squares conform to the shape of the environment, transforming that shape with color and texture.




Poles of all kinds disappeared underneath big crochet and knit stitches. Bare metal started to look barren in comparison.




Maybe next year we can cover the caboose.




After a while, even my seaming started to look like part of the art.




Donations from different crafters created fortuitous juxtapositions of color, shape, and texture.




Ariel M got so into it. I think she might go yarn bombing on her own next weekend.




She made this beautiful, welcoming armrest cover. Isn't it the perfect accompaniment to a set-a-spell by the fountain?




We worked through sunset and into the gathering darkness.




Soon you couldn't even see the green fringed skirt you just sewed on a lamppost.




A woman showed up about 75 minutes into the event with this enormous afghan, the perfect size for wrapping around an entire bench.




Just as we were tying off the last stitches, the piece de resistance rolled up: a crochet covered motorcycle. Wait 'till the ArtsFest attendees get a load of this.




Those who stayed to the very end. Yarn bombers forever!