I'm never without a little black book.

over 10 years worth of words and ideas are stored within these books

over 10 years worth of words and ideas are stored within these books

I use these notebooks for sketching, scribbling design ideas, pattern writing, adjustments to patterns, plans for exhibition spaces, to-do lists, book budgeting, life budgeting, travel planning, daily scheduling, notes to self, colour planning and more. They hold everything that goes through my head, and without my current book I'd be lost.

There are books with plain paper, but mostly I used the lined ones. They're all the same size (A6), and all black hardback. I've a small store of them in the studio, as I buy them when I see them and especially when they're on offer as they're becoming harder to find. I write in black ink only, and draw in black ink too - I've never been one for sketching in pencil, it allows for too much editing; pen is permanent, it doesn't allow me to erase ideas or self edit. Besides, having a pen and pencil in my pocket isn't very efficient, why carry two things when one tool will do the job?

I'm not one for sketching full stop really - I prefer to make rough sketches and add the extra details in notes. I don't fully sketch each idea and flesh things out - once I know which path I'm on, I work on the needles, and the notes become more critical. I've always worked this way, sketches are limited by their 2D nature and I'm a 3D person, both in practice and in thinking. Besides, fully fleshing out ideas on paper in visual form is a luxury my time schedule doesn't allow for. I have to swatch for each design, and so the Hat itself becomes my swatch. It's quicker for me to do this, to work from notes and develop those notes as I go, rather than plan everything out on paper from an initial, separate swatch. My method is more truthful and more efficient for me, too. I can do this because I only work with Hats, and none of it happens by accident.

These books have been even more critical of late, in other ways. Having relapsed on the depression front and having found myself unable to fully express myself with words, I've taken to writing down the fragments that pass through my head, in the hope that someday I can do something useful with them. Very limited memory function is another side effect of poor mental health, and the notes work on several fronts. Over time I can see the themes developing and the thought process slowly coming together; it helps to feel less fractured. These notebooks become a filing cabinet of words and streams on consciousness, all tangled and distorted, and although the written word doesn't allow for editing and sorting, by writing it all down it allows those words to take on an importance when they would otherwise be lost in the fog. The words won't go unrecorded.

Sometimes these notebooks serve as a frustration. I can see how many great ideas I've had over the years, and how many of them have gone undeveloped due to my breakdowns. I can see the fragments of my functional brain, and see how scattered they are, and see how far I have to go before they become something. They add to those feelings of being inadequate, of being left behind, of failing and of letting down.

On the other hand, they offer hope. As well as being able to see how far I have to go, they're another piece in the picture of how far I've come. I can see that a lot of those ideas have become something, despite the fog. These records are slowly forming into something cohesive, and without them I don't think I'd be able to keep going through so many relapses and come out the other side. It takes time to build on these fragments, and although the passing of time whilst in the fog is one of the most exasperating aspects of depression, I can appreciate the building and rebuilding of knowledge that the pages evidence. I can use the notebooks as word and idea banks; record them after a moment of insight, safe in the knowledge that although they will be forgotten in the morning, that part of me is still there, waiting for when I am ready.

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It's 5.07am and I'm up with insomnia, as is often the case. There are words stuck in my head that I need to make sense of else sleep won't happen. Regular readers here know that I'm prone to writing strongly worded posts like my last one, whether they be a deliberate reality check or a desperate need for honesty. It's part of my healing process if you like, my need to keep myself sane in a world that often feels so alien and constructed. I just wish I had the energy to write them more often.

The image shows the crown of my Coldharbour Twist pattern. It features the post title “Further Thoughts on the Issue of Transparency”

Thank you for your support and your wonderful comments and messages. Getting all those words out onto screen left me worn out, in a good way, and a little overwhelmed, and my usual reaction is to coil away from the spotlight. There are however many unanswered questions, which is par for the course when you're trying to untangle feelings. Your comments provided lots of food for thought and my brain hasn't stopped churning since. One thing that we all need to talk more about is privilege - the differences in our background, circumstance and support (financial or otherwise). It's a very tricky subject, but it doesn't go away by pretending it's not there.

For those of us in the industry the low wages are not news. I suspect there are a few key earners, but many of the people I know are putting in a daft amount of hours to earn a relative pittance. Many continue despite this because they aren't sole earners or have financial support, and are able to persue their creative dreams. Others continue to do it because they can work an irregular schedule around family, or because life and health means a regular job is no longer an option.

I'm still not sure though why it's assumed that we're earning a lot more than we are. It's not as simple as throwing out a PDF and flogging hundreds of them (I'll remind you of my post about the true cost of a pattern) yet you'll still hear remarks along those lines. Ideas and education never seem to be as valued as tangible objects and that's something quite deeply rooted, but I don't think that's the sole reason.

A couple of comments really got me thinking... comments along the lines of "I had no idea about the reality of designers - all I ever see are pictures of pretty handknits" and "so many designers seem more concerned with image". And yup, it bought me back to that wall of pretend again.

Strong images sell, that we all know. They don't have to be pretty, but it helps. And everyone loves nice yarn, right, and we all want to see it in our IG feed? Marketing would have us believe that unless we share the pretty all the time and have everyone cooing, we won't sell our work. Admittedly, the fact that pretty sells more is something I'll never get my head round, but there it is.

And I can't help feeling that if designers really want to change the industry from the ground up and make a point of how difficult it can be financially, then they need to acknowledge that lifestyle marketing isn't helping. In the efforts to make something look good and attract followers (and hopefully in turn customers), the impression that's being given out is that they too live that lifestyle, and I know that the reality for most is very different. I'm no doubt over simplifying here (you got the sleep deprived bit, yes?) but if we want to bust the myth, then we've got to start telling a truer story.

And the notion that stopped me going back to sleep in the wee hours was this: what would happen if designers, like review bloggers, were transparent about sponsorship? What if designers started to let their customers know that the expensive yarn they see in the photos (Instagram, blogs, as well as Ravelry and patterns) has been kindly provided by the yarn company? More and more bloggers are adding disclaimers to their review posts in the interests of transparency. And I like it. As designers we generally endorse yarn brands, and I think it would be mighty refreshing if more of us took the same approach.

I'll leave you with that idea; it seemed quite a revelation at 3am. Meanwhile, I'm going to make another cup of tea and knit for a while before sending out the final instalment of the MKAL.

eta/ I've heard this afternoon that some designers do state on their patterns that yarn is provided by Xx company, and others are upfront and openly talk about collaborations which can only be a good thing. Yarn sponsorship doesn't just apply to patterns, though - what about blog posts and reviews? Instagram and social media? The law changed regarding transparency for book/product reviewers but how well does that apply to our field?

eta2/ I've had folk ask what I'm trying to achieve with these posts, and honestly, what I'm trying to do is work out where I fit within the industry, and how I feel about so many practices (including my own). Blogging can be just as organic and spontaneous as it can be scripted and scheduled. There doesn't have to be a purpose. And if discussion comes from this then surely that is a pretty worthwhile achievement in itself?

Yes, I took this post down for a while. As I said, I don't deal well with the spotlight and two honest and questioning posts in one week was more than my vulnerability meter could handle. I've made minor edits and reposted by request.

eta/ this post was updated on 11th March 2022 with a new post graphic. The image shows the crown of my Coldharbour Twist pattern.

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For a few years now I've had a whole load of half written blog posts sat in my drafts, posts where I want to write about how I go about work and design and business, and why our circumstances affect those decisions.

The image shows the crown of my Banksia pattern. It features the post title “On the Issue of Money”

On why I self-publish and on why I use POD, amongst other things. Yet I still can't get the words right, and some of these things are difficult subjects to write about and I seem to spend a daft amount of time living in fear of the spotlight.

Then last week I did this, because I've had enough of the lack of transparency, and the lack of straight talking.

It's that last line that I added.

The response has been much more positive than I was expecting; there hasn't been a backlash but there has been that telling silence from some quarters. I get that, it's a difficult subject to embrace, but it is what it is and it needs to be said directly.

I've always hinted at this - I've been honest about being far from affluent. Whenever I've been interviewed and the subject of supporting my family comes up, I always also mention that we live a very frugal lifestyle on the outskirts of society, one that sees a great deal of prejudice. There were some kind suggestions of alternatives to the language I chose in this statement, yet I can say from experience that the message doesn't get understand if it's dressed differently.

The poverty line is a measurable, objective thing. Self sufficiency and affluence, affordability and success (or lack of) are all subjective terms. I (we) have lived below the poverty line as it's recorded in the UK for the best part of 10 years, since I was medically retired from teaching. The statement is factual, and it's reality is harsh.

We get by, we're not what most people would call 'comfortable' (an outside bathroom and a lack of running hot water puts paid to that sentiment. But at least we have our own bathroom now). And we get by because we live as we do. Clearly we live on very little, and maybe going forward I'll start to feel more confident to talk about how most of our clothes are donated or from charity shops, that shopping for well made clothes built to last and creating a slow wardrobe seems to happen in a parallel universe. 

You could argue that we made the choice to live as we do, and yes, yes we did. I ran away from a life on sickness benefits in a council flat in a tower block to join Tom in the metaphorical circus - we didn't exactly have a great deal of options and we took the one that serves us best, with no regrets whatsoever. We are far better off like this than we would ever be in a more settled life. 

You'll know that everything about this business I have has been built from the bottom up - I've never had a penny of investment or sponsorship (beyond the occasional free skein of yarn) or even a loan (I'm still paying off the debts that my education cost me - I'd never get a loan, even if I wanted one) - it's all mine. And of that I'm very proud. But it does hinder my ability to grow the business and in turn earn more, because putting food on the table trumps buying supplies each and every time. I don't have the luxury of an earning partner or the safety net of a relative whenever the business (or life) needs something. Fighting an eviction order over the last few years has forced some very hard decisions on the cash front because we needed to build a financial safety net, should the worst ever happen. We managed it; it's not much, and it has to stay where it is, as this lifestyle will never offer the security of a bricks and mortar one.

For much of the last 10 years I've felt out of my depth in this industry, like someone who doesn't belong... simply because I don't have any money. When the average print run for a book costs more than we paid for the bus we call home (the double decker cost £2,000), well meaning suggestions from industry folk telling me to stop using POD if I want my business to grow only adds to that ill feeling. 

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this - my feelings are still very tangled - but I do need to work through it and that means talking out loud. Letting the industry know that designers who are considered as successful as I am are still struggling only has to be a good thing, right? We need to have this dialogue, about privilege and income and circumstance. And we need to be more supportive of each other. I don't want a life in a big house with a big salary and all the materialistic trimmings, and neither do I want sympathy - I just want enough to live on, to be comfortable and to not be kept awake at night by the worry of not earning enough this month.

eta/ this post was updated on 11th March 2022 with a new post graphic. The image shows the crown of my Banksia pattern.

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<rant>

I'll preface this by saying:

I have a Ba (Hons) in Fine Art Textiles from Goldsmiths' College (depending on your perspective, it's either a really progressive art college or entirely up it's own backside)

I've a Post Grad in Art Education (a PGCE (also from Goldsmiths). These are often seen as the runt of the post grad family, which is unfair, as it's one of the most intensive and insightful years you could ever experience.)

I was an Art & Design teacher for 6 years. 

My specialism is in Textiles, specifically Textile Sculpture.

I often think about exhibiting again, but don't because I can't be arsed with all the elitist wank that goes on in the industry. I'd rather get on and do my own thing and avoid the battle of the egos.

 

Now, here are a few things that have often been said to me, or that have been overheard in conversations. Textiles is one of those mediums that transcends the boundaries between art, craft and design and it invariably confuses people. Or rather, it reveals their inner snob.

 

  • "It can't be art if you wear it"
  • "I'd consider that craft, which is completely different"
  • "How can it be art if you're teaching people how to recreate it?"
  • "form over function. If it's functional, it's not art"
  • "but you're making money from it - aren't all artists supposed to be starving?" 

And all of these are complete and utter bollocks.

 

It doesn't matter what the material is, or what the end purpose is - if someone has put their imagination and creativity and yes, even skill, into making something, then surely it's all cut ('scuse the pun) from the same cloth? Art can be craft and design; just as craft can be art and design, and design both art and craft. The execution and expression of ideas, whether it be a political or moral message, or simply the want to explore shape and form and material and even technique, are all creative pursuits. They all come from that same place that drives us to do it, the same want to push our own boundaries. It's an inner itch that can't be ignored. 

To label one thing as craft (because, I dunno, it involves techniques that are often associated with domesticity and/or women) and another as art (perhaps because it can hang on a wall and look pretty/edgy) is elitism, pure and simple. 

Creativity is creativity, end of. It's self indulgent and it doesn't care what you want to make, it just cares that you do.

</rant> 

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(dammit, I forgot the watermarks. This is going to be a tricky new habit to form...)

A new look for Alveare. In fact, I've kinda rewritten the whole pattern. It's still the same, only for a worsted gauge and with an extra size thrown in, and the biggest difference is a tweaking of the crown shaping... the previous one bothered me a tad.

Charlie is a star, isn't she? Our shoot was only an hour, if not less, and we cracked through some tricky Hats.

Alveare is one of the few patterns that's getting more than new photos, and it'll go back into tech editing once I've made the adjustments.... I'm not going to give an estimate as to when it will be ready, but purchasers of the PDF will get an update notice, so please don't be put off by the wait.

This sample is knit in Lornas Laces Haymarket, a skein of which I managed to get my hands on at the Rocking Kitchen Retreat late last year. It's a perfect yarn for this Hat, I'd say. Yummy.

 

 

And this is something new for the coming autumn - a whole new design!

Have no idea what to call it yet, although it does remind me of the circus, for some reason. This was a design that came out of the blue - a matter of simply picking up the needles and casting on. And it felt good to instinctively work through something from start to finish and have it all work out. And do it all in less than 24hrs. Good for the soul, that.

It's not a design I would plan, I don't think, but that's cool. It's good to branch out from your own self defined comfort zone, methinks. And it is a rather charming shape, too.

Another sample knit in Lornas Laces, this time it's the Bullfrogs and Butterflies yarn. I haven't worked with anything this variegated for a while and it was interesting breaking away from semi solids for a bit!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Am kinda finding all these photoshoots and the editing and sorting of photos very therapeutic... the visual equivalent of my sanity knitting. Realistically I've few Hats now that need rephotographing but I suspect I'll keep on going anyways, as it's good exercise (both in a photographic sense, and in a get me off my backside sense)

Headwise, I've had the odd brighter day this week. Days when I've woken up with focus and a want to think and calculate. Those days to tend to be followed by exhaustion days though, and today is one such day when I'm struggling to stay awake. But that's how it goes. I'm just happy to have the odd moment of seeing a gap in the fog, even if it isn't a clear path to the other side. 

Tomorrow the plan is to attempt some pattern writing. That's another muscle in need of a gentle workout. If I can continue to have the metaphorical phone unplugged, and keep working at my pace and having naps and meltdowns as they come, then I'll get to the other side eventually. It's all too easy to have a good day then try and leap ahead.. thankfully I've just completed one of my last commissions with a deadline; there be no need for rushing now.

And now it's nap time.

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