Author: TKG editors

a review by Genevieve Chornenki.

Silk, that strong, luxury fibre that adds shimmer and elegance to knitting yarn! While admiring it online or in your local yarn store, have you ever considered its past? If not, put your needles down and your feet up. Open the pages of The World History of Silk by Aaarathi Prasad and prepare to be enlightened.

Silk comes from the protein that has been separated from the gummy glue that holds a moth’s pupa or cocoon together. In most situations the moth that is forming inside is not allowed to emerge but is stifled (read killed) by heat or chemical means so that an unbroken fibre can be wound. If the moth emerges, as it is allowed to do in some cultures or circumstances, the silk will be broken or interrupted.

Silk comes from a variety of creatures and several different moths. (See image of four different silk moths.) In the winter of 1935–36, Chanhu-daro, an Indus civilization site now in Sindh, Pakistan, was excavated. Tiny steatite beads were uncovered, strung on forty or fifty strands of silk that had been twisted together sometime between 2450 and 2000 BCE. The silk did not come from mulberry silkworms that are the source of most of today’s silk, but from the cocoons of the wild Saturniidae family of moths.

As for commercial silk worms, Bombyx mori, farmers south of China’s Yellow River were already domesticating them in Neolithic times, and ornamental silkworms cast in gilt bronze or carved in jade have been recovered from graves. An exceptional one was carved from a ten-millimeter sliver of the tusk of a wild boar.

Most of the local makers around the world who collected or cultivated silk and employed dying, spinning or weaving technologies will forever remain anonymous (just as those working with wool, flax, cotton and other fibres). Even so, Prasad introduces readers to people—botanists, illustrators, and merchants—that few of us would recognize. Maria Sibylla Merian (1647–1717), for instance, produced engraved and etched plates of flowers and moths based on years of observation, detailed studies, and time-consuming breeding. It was she who first noted that a moth’s wings form even while the creature is in the larval stage.

Prasad has a PhD in molecular genetics from Imperial College London and later trained in bioarcheology. She never shies from the distasteful aspects of silk production, but her affection for the creatures that yield silk makes for gentle and relaxing reading.

by Twisted Cord.

If you’re dead set against swatching at all or beyond 4 inches by 4 inches, Catherine Lowe understands. In The Ravell’d Sleeve, she calls swatching (and blocking) “the outcasts of the hand-knitter,” and she concedes that these preparatory steps interfere with a knitter’s “immediate gratification.” So those of us content to knit items where gauge matters little such as scarves or cowls can carry on. But those who want to up their game—to produce reliable and elegant fabric, to knit garments with flawless fit, refined details and construction, items that wear and hold their form over time—might want to revisit the notion of swatching.

For me, a maker who has knit the tiniest piece, pulled out a tape measure, measured from edge to edge, fudged the math, and then unravelled the swatch, Lowe’s book was frighteningly rigorous. (Did I mention using my sewing machine to take in an oversized sweater or shorten sleeves?) She champions gauge swatches that yield the most reliable information about the fabric of which a garment will be made.

Lowe is not an opinionated knitter or an advocate. She is a thorough and factual one who understands that technique is inextricably linked to technicalities. She explains why a swatch must be knit using the very make and size of needles (not just the same size), and the very yarn and dye-lot that the knitter will use in the actual garment. And her case for a larger, properly blocked swatch with those prerequisites—at least 12” x 12” in size—is compelling:

1. Edge-to-edge measurements yield an inaccurate gauge. Side-edge stitches are not whole stitches but rather incomplete ones not held by neighbouring stitches. And cast-on rows can be 1.5 times higher than a row of regular knitting, while cast-off rows can be on one-quarter of that height. When these discrepancies go into the computation of gauge they produce inaccurate results.
2. A small swatch cannot replicate how a knitter really knits and hence how a knitter will actually knit the garment. Putting it another way, a small swatch will not reflect the variability in a knitter’s technique owing to stitch pattern, fibre type, needle size, let alone their emotional state. Nor does a small swatch account for the gestures and adjustments that a knitter unconsciously makes each row—pausing and moving stitches along the barrel of the needle, for instance, or re-tensioning the yarn in the hand.
3. Blocking (by whatever means) alters both the dimensions and hand of the fabric. Handknitting tends to “relax” when blocked or finished (by washing or dry cleaning), and the degree to which this happens cannot be accurately anticipated. “A gauge swatch that has not been finished in exactly the same way the knitter, or the owner, intends to treat the completed garment,” writes Lowe, “can only hint at those stitches and row counts that will ultimately determine the dimensions of the garment.”

The Ravell’d Sleeve contains chapters of over twenty pages on each of swatching and blocking, and I don’t pretend to have absorbed all of its wisdom. But I stand by it as a go-to reference book for any knitter willing to move beyond received wisdom about the much maligned swatch

by Emily Chatten.

On Saturday, October 19, 2024, the Toronto Knitters Guild organized a guided tour of the Royal Ontario Museum’s exhibit “Quilts: Made In Canada,” and over twenty people attended. The exhibit included a range of quilts from primitive to spectacular, utilitarian to art, wedding gifts to quilts made for the war-weary following World War II. While not a quilter herself, our guide had spent time learning about the history of quilts and quilting techniques in Canada. The museum owned the majority of the quilts on display with a few borrowed from the collections of other Canadian museums. Unfortunately, there were no recorded details of the oldest quilts, but the visual details of all of them told stories to even the most untrained eye.

As with any textile exhibit, the delicate nature of the materials requires dim lighting. While this is important for textile conservation it made it difficult to appreciate the detail of the handwork that went into these exceptional pieces of Canadian history. Visitors might have benefited from enlarged pictures showing minute or dark details that were difficult to see in gallery’s dim lighting.  And while there were some interactive opportunities such as looking at tools and quilt piecing toward the end, having scraps of fabric that people could touch might have been grounding for folks who did not grow up in a household with quilts.

Visiting “Quilts: Made In Canada” was filled with nostalgia for me. Many of the quilts put me in mind of visiting an aunt and finding her with her friends, sitting and working around a quilt on a frame. Later in the year, if they were lucky, the work would pay off with a prize at the local agricultural fair.

As we walked through the exhibit, it seemed that if I blinked for just a second, the quilt we were coming to was on a frame surrounded by a group of women, enjoying each other’s company as they worked on a quilt for one of their households. Then I was back at the ROM.

Emily Chatten is a Toronto-based maker whose rural ancestors saved every scrap of available fabric to make things for the home.

Image source: Royal Ontario Museum

For our November 2024 Member Spotlight, we invited Patricia (Tricia) Griffith to tell us about herself. Read on to get to know Tricia who volunteers to help with the guild’s programming and Ravelry group.

Do you come from a long line of knitters?
Not really. My mother and grandmother knit and crocheted, but only sporadically, and it was my sister, three years older than I am, who taught me to knit when I was about eight years old. I knit Barbie scarves then. That’s about it.

Years passed before I picked up the needles again. I was prompted to do so for two reasons. First, my sister forced my hand. She’d knit me a few pairs of fingerless gloves but refused to knit exclusively for me, insisting that if I wanted more I should knit them myself. Second, I needed something to help me pass the time when visiting my in-laws at Christmas. Knitting allowed me to be polite and present while seated in the group while at the same time being productive.

So how did you acquire the skill to move from Barbie scarves to fingerless gloves?
Slowly. Step-by-step. I began knitting flat and my skills were very rudimentary: I didn’t even know how to bind off. So I enrolled in a “Learn to Knit” class at the Knit Café in Toronto, and then another and another. Gradually, my skill level improved, and I learned how to do things I never thought I would actually do—like knitting in the round, for instance.

Since those beginner classes, I’ve enrolled in many classes and workshops. I’ve taken three classes in brioche knitting, for instance, and have yet to master increases and decreases in that challenging technique. The first retreat I did was the Yarn Over Sleep Over at Fern resort in Orillia, now called Fibre at Fern, a great retreat that I have attended many times. I have also attended the Fall Knit Retreat held by Rosehaven Yarn Shop.

I LOVE knitting retreats, I love the classes, I love the people, I love being immersed in knitting. During the pandemic Rowan Yarns started holding weekend long schedules of on-line speakers and tutorials. I participated a few times and it helped give me that knitting retreat feeling.

In April 2024 I became even more adventurous. I took a knitting tour in Ireland through KnittingTours.com. The instructor, Edel MacBride (who is scheduled to be the TKG presenter at our January 2025 member’s meeting) taught various Aran stitch combinations, where they originated and what their significance was. She had a unique way of composing garments using regional motifs. Of course I came home with a suitcase full of yarn!

Now that I’ve been knitting for a number of years, I don’t feel right if I haven’t done any in a day or two; I HAVE to knit. Knitting does not feel like work; it sometimes requires concentration, but I find it calming. I can happily pass a weekend knitting and watching movies.

What is your day job? How, if at all, does knitting fit in?
I am a Digital Content Manager for the advertising company Pattison Outdoor, a job that involves coordinating clients, designers, and coders. It doesn’t have anything to do with knitting or knitwear design, but you never know. One day an office colleague noticed my Briggs and Little coffee mug. “Hey!” she said. “Are you a knitter? I am.” That was the beginning of a rewarding, ongoing friendship. We’ve since gone to knitting retreats and travelled together.

How has your knitting changed since you picked it up again?
I will now modify patterns. When I started, I would not deviate from a pattern at all, except possibly to make something longer. Now I have more confidence to change something I don’t like or to suit me better.

What prompted you to join the Toronto Knitters Guild?
I joined the guild in 2018 at the prompting of a friend who was already a member. We both belonged to a knitting meetup group, and at first I didn’t see the point of belonging to another knitting group, but I’m so glad I joined! Monthly guild meetings deliver more than a meetup group can. The instructional nature of the presentations at the monthly meetings appeals to me. I love the speakers and the variety, and I always learn something new. At the September 2024 presentation by physiotherapist Molly Lynch, for instance, I learned a new hand exercise that I added to my regular regime.

There’s also the social aspect of the guild—meeting other members and seeing their beautiful work. I am so pleased that the Show & Tell feature has been resumed at guild meetings, and I always look forward to the annual Show & Share in February. Guild members have presented work that’s so much more beautiful and appealing than the pattern’s pictures suggest.

Tell us about the most challenging thing you have ever knit. What revelations and/or resolutions came out of that?
The most challenging thing I ever knit was a hooded wrap called Rumpelstiltskin that I knit in a yarn called Rapunzel. I started the project early on in my knitting journey when I had no idea what I was getting myself in to—I saw it, I liked it and wanted to knit it—even though it had features such as cables that I’d never knit before. The wrap took many years of knitting, as it took me upwards of twenty minutes to complete a single row. I doggedly worked a row a day until I got to the hood which allowed me to proceed somewhat more quickly.

That project taught me to at least skim through a pattern before committing to it in order to get some understanding of how big a challenge it will be. It also taught me that if I persevere and work it out one row at a time I will eventually (finally!) finish it and have something beautiful.

Are you a process or a product knitter?

I am, definitely and unapologetically, a product knitter! I love the satisfaction of producing knitted items. I do not like ripping out—it seems such a waste of time and effort. Nor do I swatch often.  SOMETIMES, yes. But even when I swatch, I do not block the swatch. I prefer to block my knitting after assembling, though if the pattern gives me a solid reason to do it before, then I’ll do it before. I often weave in my ends as I go along to avoid having to do it afterwards, as finishing is so much less fun than knitting.

I knit mostly in the fingering, DK, and worsted weights in natural fibers. Generally I knit garments, and I tend to knit for myself. As Sally Melville advises, I look at a pattern and say, “I’d like to wear that!” not “I’d like to knit that.” I once knit a hat as an act of kindness for someone else, but the finished product was so appealing that I fell in love with it, promising myself that soon I would replace the aborted gift.

I like to have a variety of projects from small to large on the go from patterns that draw me because the garment looks unique or the stitch pattern or a particular colour of yarn appeal to me. My magic number is three, that is three projects at a time. I am currently knitting a shawl, a poncho, and a hat/cowl combination.

For our second installment of our Member Spotlight series, we’ve asked Phaedra Livingstone to take a turn at telling us about herself.  Read on to get to know Phaedra better!

Phaedra Livingstone, a museologist and professor of Communications, Media, Arts and Design at Centennial College, has been a TKG member since the 90s. Improvisation is second nature to her, as reflected in her completed Ravelry projects under the name Phazar.

Like many of us, Phaedra plunged into knitting during the pandemic, and she shared her love for the craft with colleagues in a Learn-to-Knit webinar, demonstrating basic techniques with chopsticks for beginners in lock down who had no access to tools or yarn stores. View her video here: https://centennialcollege.zoom.us/rec/share/9-nCN3thSJ13SzEQMNWl79wGaxIvyZMqV8nRt7MmDIKhfvBjcMhras927Hgc1YMb.ZbRUNl9XNUuypP64 ; Access Passcode: @7=9fwZs

Did knitting come naturally to you?
I learned to knit at age 8, making slipknots with my fingers and yarn left over from my mother’s weaving classes. My mother was not a knitter but showed me how to cast on and begin a basic scarf. Casting off had to be delayed until a cross-country visit to my paternal grandmother in British Columbia.

When I was in grade 4, my family spent a year living in rustic accommodation on an island with no yarn store. I whittled twigs into pins to continue experimenting with knitting. Unsurprisingly, I’m a proponent of learning through play and building skills through trial and error.

Because no one ever told me I shouldn’t (or couldn’t) I chose some very challenging projects for my early knitted garments and did not use commercial patterns until I discovered Vogue Knitting magazine in my late teens. I took my first class in 1995—Sally Melville’s two-day “Advanced Knitting and Basic Design,” and her approach to colour and pattern excited me.

What do you most like to knit?
My Ravelry project page tells the story—sweaters dominate. No surprise there. But the next largest category—shawls and wraps—does surprise me. I like medium-sized projects. In the past I knit gifts, but now I prefer to knit for myself as there is no deadline.

I have also done test knitting and enjoy the insight it offers into other people’s design process. The goal of test knitting is to ensure a positive experience for the pattern user—Are the instructions clear? Are the details correct for each size correct? What is the user experience with substituted yarns? It’s also fun to see how other testers interpret the same pattern with their colour and yarn choices and any modifications.

Are you a project or a process knitter?
I think there’s spectrum of preferences rather than a binary choice, but I lean toward process knitting. I don’t typically purchase a pattern and then search for yarns; I start with the yarn and let it speak to me. I am not disturbed if a work-in-progress needs to mature for a while.

During the first COVID lockdown in 2020, I reorganised my works-in-progress, yarn, patterns, books and tools. I cleaned and mended sweaters and socks. I frogged forlorn FO. And from the depths, I disinterred an unfinished object (UFO) many years of age—the body and sleeves of a chevron-patterned cropped sweater with steek markings, still uncut. It whispered to me, “Mama, I’m not a sweater. I’m a dress.” The body fit perfectly as a skirt, and in my newly inventoried stash I found a variegated yarn for the bodice that picked up the colours in the skirt and sleeves. The end result was my “UFO Lifetime Achievement Award Dress” of which I am very proud.

Which fibres do you prefer?
I don’t like the hand of 100% acrylic yarns and find that man-made fibres tend to retain odours. But blends of acrylic with other fibres are fine. I prefer natural fibres for their ease of care, capacity to accept dyes, and lower environmental impact. I avoid superwash wool yarns and am prepared to take special care in laundering wool garments.

Do many of your friends knit?
Yes, but I am often surprised to find out that they are knitters only years into our relationship. Many of my oldest friends are sewers, and during my teens I did more sewing than knitting because sewing offered more opportunities for creativity and immediate gratification. At that time, the way in which knitting was marketed did not emphasize creativity and imagination—it was still pretty “homespun” (in the outmoded sense of the word) and there weren’t the gorgeous hand-dyed yarns available now.

What is the most challenging or tedious aspect of knitting?
I still find Kitchener stitch grafting very challenging. Fortunately, I found a project bag emblazoned with the Kitchener stitch mantra and refer to it often.

Where do you go for reference material?
The Ravelry website is a primary resource, and I have assembled my own reference library of books, patterns, and workshop notes over the years. YouTube is also an amazing resource—I like the Very Pink Knits Stitch Dictionaries, especially her slow-motion stitch videos.

When do you knit?
When don’t I knit? I carry a project bag with me everywhere. I knit during breaks between classes or meetings, in the evenings, on the TTC, on flights and on long car rides, you name it. Knitting on the TTC often sparks interesting conversations with other riders.

Do you find knitting meditative?
Usually, but not always. There are also moments when I want to pull my hair out, though my goal is to be “in the moment”.

Knitting has been a common thread throughout my life. It allows me to focus more clearly, perhaps because I have control over it, receive quick feedback on my progress, and enjoy its tactile nature.

As a museologist, how well do you feel museums display textiles from the past?
I served a 4-year volunteer apprenticeship at the Textile Museum of Canada. I first got involved to access the library for an experimental archaeology class researching under-documented ancient technologies and volunteered in return for access. Things evolved from there.

Textiles, in general, are relatively delicate so are difficult to handle and display well. That explains why we don’t see permanent textile exhibitions or pieces displayed for long periods. These challenges are particularly difficult for smaller museums with limited staff. In some contexts, there may also be a lingering bias that textiles and crafts in general are not as historically significant as other art forms. But what we can see of digitized collections now is just amazing!

How do you see the role of technology in knitting?
Technology has connected the international community of knitters and yarnies of all types
and has proven to be a huge boon! It changed how we relate to each other—virtual meet-up groups over video, the global Ravelry community, Facebook groups, online classes and workshops, YouTube videos of techniques, etc. It also changed how we design patterns by facilitating the calculations needed to customise fit or offer a wide range of sizes. This allows knitwear designers to be more inclusive. New knitting apps let users download customised pattern instructions, exclusive to their chosen size and features.

by Michele Arishenkoff.

Michele Arishenkoff welcomes a new baby into her extended family with a handknitted gift and a letter that lovingly connects the baby to their family and those that came before them:

Dearest child,

Here is the story of your sweater (…and Big Red).

A long, long time ago on a high mountain pass, there was a wooden spinning wheel called Big Red. For a while, Big Red lived in a tiny blue room upstairs in a large communal village. Old Babushka sat peacefully at the wheel, quietly humming prayers in Russian and spinning wool into miles and miles and miles of fine, white yarn. The yarn was used to knit stockings for the children to keep their tender toes warm during the cold, snowy winter days.

Time passed and circumstances changed. Big Red moved to a new home closer to town. Unfortunately, she sat dormant for a while in the storage room of the garage. From time to time, the children would sneak into the storage room to peek at Big Red and rummage through all of the other goodies that were stowed with her. They would turn her wheel a few times, push the foot treadle and watch the hand-forged metal crank move up and down, up and down. Big Red was a mystery to them. They wondered, “What does she do?” “How does she work?” “Where does the fluff go in and how does the string come out?”

And once again, time passed and circumstances changed. Big Red moved again to another new home, even closer to town. And this time, she sat in the basement amongst boxes of stored clothes and saved housewares and old magazines. Times had changed. Old Babushka was too busy now, tending to her garden or making borsch and pyrahi. And there was no need to spin yarn to knit stockings because they could be bought at the store.

And once again, time passed and circumstances changed. One of the children, who was all grown up and an Aunty now could hear Big Red’s whisper, “Spin me, spin me, spin me!” Aunty decided it was time to put Big Red back into service…such a beautiful spinning wheel, sturdy and strong….”there is work to be done!”

So, Big Red was packed carefully into a crate and put on an airplane and flown halfway across the country—quite an adventure for the hundred-year-old spinning wheel.

Now settled in her next home, Big Red went to visit the Wheelwright for a tune up. Her axle was oiled, her bands were tightened, and her frame was waxed and polished. Aunty went to Spinning School to learn how get Big Red to spin sheep’s fleece into yarn again, yarn that could be knit into garments.

To this day, Big Red sits proudly in the front room in the big city on the shores of the Great Lake, happy to be back in action. She will produce stockings and hats and mittens for the children…. But for you Lev, she has knit a cozy warm sweater (aka sveet’yer).

Time will pass, circumstances will change, but no matter where you are, there will be a common thread and much love that connects you to your family, your cultures, your heritage and your ancestors.

About the author: At an early age Michele Arishenkoff was eager to learn to crochet from her mother. And with that, handcrafted textiles colour and design captured her interest. Since picking up two needles and learning to knit, about 20 years ago, she continues to be inspired by the creative community of Knitting.

by Elizabeth Okeyele-Olatunji. www.facebook.com/TunnizzeCreation.  

Recently, I had an encounter with a young learner who wanted to crochet a plushy with a poop emoji. I asked him to make the poop face, which he happily did, and he taught me how to make one too! Where does that kind of thinking come from?

Children are very creative thinkers; hence they need yarns to bring their ideas to life. That’s the beauty of yarn.

I define yarn as material that children can use to turn dreams into reality. Should every child be given the opportunity to work with yarn?  The answer is a resounding yes because there are so many benefits, including:

• The simple joy that comes from hands-on activities. I recently spent time in a Montessori classroom where young children drew original designs and brought them to life with knitting. The children enjoyed working with yarn and needles, and what they produced. In a world of digital distractions, simple yarn work such as knitting, crocheting, and weaving offer much more than just a pastime; they provide a creative outlet, an opportunity to develop fine motor skills, and a chance to build self-esteem.
• The opportunity to blend creativity and skill-building. When children learn to knit or crochet, they are not just making scarves or toys—they are developing critical thinking and problem-solving skills. Following patterns, counting stitches, and correcting mistakes enhances cognitive abilities. Repetitive motions improve hand-eye coordination and fine motor skills.
• The sense of accomplishment that comes with completing a project. Having taught numerous children how to make things from yarn, I always cherish their smiles on completion of their projects. They often experience a boost in confidence and self-esteem, which can have ripple effects in other areas such as academics and social interactions.

Inclusivity in Creative Opportunities
Regrettably, not every child has the opportunity to learn yarn crafts for reasons that include:

• Socioeconomic factors
• Lack of access to materials
• Lack of qualified teachers
• Limited exposure to creative activities in schools
• Persistence of gender stereotypes, i.e. the belief that yarn crafts are “women’s work,” whereas boys and girls alike can benefit from the skills and creativity that yarn crafts cultivate

Communities, schools, organizations, and yarn companies must work together to ensure that yarn crafts and other creative activities are available to all children, regardless of their backgrounds. This could involve providing free or low-cost materials, offering workshops in schools or community centres, or even integrating these crafts into the standard curriculum as is done at Waldorf schools, Montessori schools, and those few schools that prioritize handwork.

We must not forget the home front as well. In the past, grandparents were fantastic at instilling the love of working yarn in their grandkids. So, on the home front, children can be taught to make things out of yarn.

In conclusion, children are the most creative humans and are always looking out for methods and materials to showcase their creative potentials. Best to give them a rich selection of materials like various colours and weights, types and ply. By making yarn crafts accessible to all, we can ensure that every child has the opportunity to develop these valuable skills and experiences.