The theory is that eventually
So, in addition to taking on a project using nubby, variegated, untreated aka "mega natural" yarn that contains my bugbear, silk - the scarf also appears to be asymmetrical (vaguely visible in the pic above, much more visible in the pic of my partially-finished version). Why don't we just get me a spinning wheel and call it a day?
OMG, it's like I took my every fibre-fear and put it together in one project. This is the spider's nest of knitting and I'm apparently in flooding therapy.
Allow me to articulate my concerns:
- The yarn (which is knit from two skeins, simultaneously, in a double strand) appears to have different textures as it blends into different colours (see the uniformly grey part with the halo).
- Though I tried to start the skeins on the same shade (and chose similarly coloured balls, as directed, with similar colouring), somehow - you can see - it hasn't worked out. I've got charcoal blending with camel and it shows no sign of abating.
- Also, how freakin' long is it going to take to get to the pretty blue colour I was certain would make a meaningful appearance?? I want this to look like a clear sky strung with clouds. Right now it looks a bit, um, fungal.
- I'm working on a size 10US needle. Yeah, each strand of yarn appears to be approximately fingering weight but, according to what I've read, each strand knits up like DK-weight and so 2 strands, one assumes, would rightly knit on a larger needle - though 10US is a gateway to the ridiculously large sizes. Mind you, it's uncomfortable knitting above an 8US. Everything gets clunky. And this thing is so whimsical. How can I knit on indelicate needles??
- The outcome of knitting rather thin yarn on rather thick needles is that the yarn takes on an open-knit look. I LOATHE open-knit. I mean, lace-work will pass, on occasion, but I cannot stand it when you can see through stockinette. So I am working mindfully to keep it together. It appears that the only needle size I don't own (below a 10US) is a 9US. Which is unfortunate. And I'm not about to start fussing with this. Unknitting this yarn, in its double strand, would be an exercise in futility, I imagine. So it's onward and upward, with as much tension as I can bring to the stitches without compromising what I hope will be some beautiful drape.
- My Ravelry projects page looks like a study in cerise and blue. In truth, there are many shades going on in my knitting - if linked to the same general level of saturation - but they don't really seem different from one another in the photos. Blame your computer screen. That's what I do. So, to rectify this, I decided to mush all the greys, beiges and blues into one skein :-) Yeah, I know, this isn't entirely the most earth-shattering departure from my norm, but I don't want to be so far from it that I can't get with the finished item. I wear the things I like.
- All of these great first-wave knitters are on about natural yarn and working with it to produce beautifully textured results. I don't know how much I like texture, but how will I ever know if I don't try?
- I have a knack for understanding how something will drape or fall. I can tell how it's going to be, simply by touching the fabric or yarn. Often, I can also tell by looking at a photo of a finished object (not the surest technique, but if it works for bra-shopping sight unseen, it generally works for everything else). I can't explain it but, if there's one natural talent I have when it comes to knitting and sewing, it's this: I commune with the fibre or textile in question and it tells me what to do. I realize this sounds ridiculous but it's actually exquisite to experience. This yarn (along with the Amitola look book), totally spoke to me. And I go with my gut. Of course, if this thing is a wretched failure, I'll have to revisit my perspective on my skill set, but till then, I'm gonna keep on.
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