A Stitch in Time.

Thanks to the wonders of email and the internet, sometimes you come across things that are just too awesome not to share. After trying for awhile to come up with something pithy to write about this, I decided that the text on the history of the Ohio Knitting Mills in Cleveland, Ohio should be best left to them:

Founded by Harry Stone in 1928, the Ohio Knitting Mills grew to become one of the country’s largest knitwear producers, and was at the center of Cleveland, Ohio’s thriving garment industry. Three generations of the Stone-Rand family ran the Mill for 76 years, producing knitwear for iconic department stores from Sears to Saks, and revered labels like Pendleton, Van Heusen, and Jack Winter.

The Ohio Knitting Mills took up an entire city block, and employed up to 700 workers. Their products ranged from the sublime to the everyday, and from 1947 -1974 the mill’s production and creativity were at a peak- knitting up caps, capes, sweaters, shirts, vests, dresses, and pants with bold colors, inventive patterns, quality materials, innovative techniques and a good dose of a strong Midwestern work ethic.

After World War II, the Mill plucked samples of each style they produced and put them into storage. Five decades later, this archive had grown into a vast collection of remarkable design artifacts, representing mainstream fashion from the classic 40’s, fab 50’s, swinging 60’s, and funky 70’s. We’ve opened this time capsule, and offer to you our collection of perfectly preserved American fashion and industrial craftsmanship. (Text from here).

I was especially happy to note that one of the family’s plants in Minnesota made Mr. Roger’s cardigans. Like most children of the 70s, I was so in love with Mr. Rogers. But he lost me whenever he went into the creepy Neighborhood of Make Believe with the creepy puppets. If you, too, are a fan of Mr. Rogers’ and would like a similar cardigan to one that the man himself wore, then check out this little gem below. Although Mr. Rogers clearly seems to favor the zipped cardigan over the button-up one (discovered after extensive internet photo research-Who knew?), they still look pretty much the same.

And for the ladies, there are some truly wonderful items that are “limited edition” (there were under 40 found in the mill) and “premium vintage” (last one left). Bizarrely enough, I swear my grandmother has this top still, and is still just as bright and patriotic as in the photo. The men’s items are only available in “premium vintage. In case you’re keeping up, why yes, I do turn 34 next month! And really would look adorable in this.

Hoorah for discovering old wonderful things in great condition that bring you back to the past. An even bigger hoorah for realizing that items from the past should be cherished instead of dumped. What a lovely bit of textile exploration and discovery this find must have been! Could you imagine what we would find if the items from all the mills that have closed over the past century had kept their stock? I’d like to think if we did, then maybe people might begin to understand that textiles are not just something “Made In China.”

P.S. If this has you jonesing for some more Mr. Rogers, you can see a clip of the Neighborhood of Make Believe here. In case that weirds you out, too, (I couldn’t watch the whole thing) the Introduction to Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood is here.

Wandering and Wondering. With Pie.

The photo below is of Chester. Chester lives out in a giant pasture in Fearrington, a retirement village not too far away. Hanging out with him the other day and making a new friend was delightful.

 

 

And speaking of retirement, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the future, especially after talking to my friend, who manages Plus500 Erfahrungen. And how the hell I’m going to pay for it. Tonight I walked home with my housemate after Bingo at a local shop, and we ate what was left of the blueberry pie she won on the last game. Fresh blueberries had splattered purplish pink on my arm, and my lips and tongue were stained blue as we walked home in flip-flops, making smacking sounds both on the pavement with our feet and with our mouths full of pie. There was a sweet sense that the summer was beginning as we soon started to itch from mosquito bites and I kept dancing to Kelis’ “Milkshake” which a new friend played for me between Bingo games. Awesome.

But then back home, I’m faced again with the conflict that keeps rising in my life, where I’m transitioning on the career front from that amorphous-sounding “freelance” towards something more sound and less stressful. I want to work out of choice when I’m 80, not work out of necessity. So I’m wading through job listings, my CV, the stories and advice of others and my own self-doubt with thoughts of my future in front of me. I think that life is meant to be lived and that work is something you should feel passion for, as with passion you challenge yourself and others to move forward and improve.

I would like to work in an environment that’s helping others (especially women) develop their own livelihoods in countries without proper infrastructures. With years of research about women, community, war, identity and indie businesses, it just seems like a natural fit. I love exploring the unique power of creativity and the way it can help as it heals. I love asking questions. I love weaving the intricacies of different cultures together and watching how they create a fabric of humanity. So I’m left in my living room, by the window, looking up at the moon, wondering how to best navigate my future.

It was nice to take time out tonight from wondering about 401ks and retirement plans and finding full-time work that is truly fulfilling and to just walk by the light of the moon and eat pie. It didn’t matter that it was dripping on our toes or on the pavement or staining our fingertips, it just mattered that we were happy to be there. And I wonder about those of us who are wondering and struggling and constantly questioning ourselves as to whether we’re doing the right thing. If we’re on the right path and fighting the right fights and where we need to be. We wonder and wonder and wonder what our future will be, knowing that we are the only ones who can craft it.

Maybe it’s daft, naive or just plain sadistic, but I truly believe that we will find the right path, the right people, the right places. We will realize that our transitions are natural progressions instead of failures. And I hope and trust that when I’m 80, I’ll be going home from Bingo in the light of the moon, laughing and lucky enough to live somewhere without worrying about the electric bill. Blueberry stained teeth and pavement, however, are purely optional.

R.I.P., Witt Pratt

Knitter and textile artist Witt Pratt died on May 20 in Virginia. You can read his obituary here. His obituary was full of insight into how Mr. Pratt found knitting and how it allowed him to grow in unexpected ways, which I found delightful. In Mr. Pratt’s own words, from the article above:

Like so many things, if we take the time to notice, when you’ve got a ball of yarn, which to many of us represents nothing short of infinite possibility, the world just opens up before you,” he said. “I consider myself extremely fortunate to have found this for myself.”

My interest piqued by his thoughts mentioned in his obituary, I was highly interested in seeing if there were any other thoughts of his on knitting online. I instantly looked and came up with a lovely interview he did with the White Crane Journal a few years ago, which you can read here. I was especially touched by this:

There was a saying in a children’s knitting book that encouraged these young knitters to remember that it’s only hard until it’s easy. I’ve remembered that many times because as grownups, particularly, its not every day that we ask our hands to do something different. We type, or we write or we trim hedges. Or whatever. So, there can be something about it when you’re first learning that can bring you screaming back to early childhood, probably prelingual memories that we have about accomplishment, or about frustration, or about effort involved in learning how to do something new. We may revisit them as adults learning how to knit.

So lovely, yet so sad that Witt Pratt wasn’t able to show more people the wonders of knitting and died so young.

‘Homeless Real World.’

An article about a group of people who filmed the lives of 6 homeless individuals in Denver recently came up on the radar. The project was originally filmed for Mania TV, but after it was deemed “too edgy,” the filmmakers are now looking for somewhere to air this reality show. (Or “actuality show,” as it was noted in the article.) Optimistically, they are in the process of editing the 160 hours of footage down to smaller portions for future viewing as a television series.

Homeless Real World (sizzle reel) from Broadcasting & Cable on Vimeo.

When I was 16, I had a friend named Jimmy, who was a year or so older. He left his parents house due to abuse and lived on the streets. He was in our wide circle of friends, and would sleep in the park or at a friend’s house, stashing his few possessions in his backpack. I remember running into him and snacking on treats he had found (fully boxed and closed) in the dumpsters behind grocery stores, worrying about his safety, and amazed that despite living in a park he held down various part-time jobs, albeit for short periods of time. He was killed in a car accident when he was 23. At his funeral, we all wondered how he could have sustained his lifestyle in the long run and were happy his skateboard was with him in his coffin.

Ever since then, I’ve held a special spot in my heart for the homeless. Not the ones who swear and yell and beg you for money, but the ones who play instruments or have dogs or quietly sit on doorsteps with handmade signs. I am amazed at how life bustles on around them and how they almost become part of the landscape, not actual human beings. I generally try to at least catch their eyes and nod as I pass, letting them know that they are not invisible, they are not just part of a larger backdrop. They are us, only a few rent checks behind. Watching the video above reminded me of Jimmy, and wondered where he would be now had he lived, if his life would be like those chosen for the show. And I remember that he gave the best most enthusiastic hugs of anyone I’ve ever known, and it is for him, that I donate some of my knitted items to the homeless.

Women In Need, Inc.
America’s Youngest Outcasts
National Coalition for the Homeless
National Alliance to End Homelessness
Department of Veterans Affairs Homeless Veteran Program

For more information on how you can help homeless people in your area, try Googling “your city name” and “homeless.” It should set you off with a few places near you that happily take handmade donations for those in need.

Twyla Tharp’s ‘The Creative Habit.’

This past week I read Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use it For Life. It was one of those books that I came across on a site or a blog or in a conversation and scribbled it down as something to read at some point. I can’t believe it took me so long to pick it up and read it! As a choreographer and dancer who has constantly pushed herself and strived for new challenges, Tharp shows us the reward that creativity can bring if you’re willing to meet it halfway.

Whether you need a kick in the ass, a reminder, a mantra or a primer on how to live your life creatively every single second, this book is a wonderfully quick read on how to do it. Tharp’s dedication to the “creative habit,” is unparalleled, as she believes (and seeing her body of work shows it works) that it is a habit, not a luxury or a birthright. Through stories using her decades of experience and exercises that help you uncover your “creative DNA,” she reminds us that taking what you love and combining it with a lot of elbow grease can bring more joy and energy than you ever thought possible. Her willingness to always push herself further and to experiment with new techniques, was a gorgeous reminder of why creativity is worth cultivating, revering and enjoying.

Repetition is a problem if it forces us to cling to our past successes. Constant reminders of the things that worked inhibit us from trying something bold and new. We lose sight of the fact that we weren’t searching for a formula when we first did something great; we were in unexplored territory, following our instincts and passions wherever they might lead us. It’s only when we look back that we see a path, and it’s only there because we blazed it. (p. 217)