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August 20, 2008

...or, er, not

Well. In my last post, I graciously elided the painful will-I-won't-I backstory to the holiday, involving 5 weeks of very fraught bureaucratic hassling, for purposes of retrieving passport from clutches of Home Office, for purposes of holiday.

This backstory has decided it doesn't like to be ignored, it wants its place in the limelight, and like a trashy little no-good wannabe, it doesn't care who or what it has to step on to make it to the A plot.

Which is my very convoluted way of saying: holiday, I can't haz it. Or rather, I could haz it, but I would have to haz at least one more week of it than I bargained for while fighting more bureaucratic evils, for purposes of being allowed back in the UK at the end of it, and really that isn't an option. Especially with iKnit day and all. So there ya go. I don't go. I stay.

*le sigh*

Eh. Who needs calamari anyway.

August 17, 2008

Holiday!

Phew. In a few days, we leave for a 12-day visit back home - South Africa, but in particular, we'll be going to a big ol' family reunion in Port Elizabeth, for the occasion of my grandmother's 80th birthday. I've been shockingly neglectful of this branch of the family for many years; in fact, most of them have never met Armin (we've only been together for 11 and a half years!), and I have cousins last seen as babes in arms who are now babes at university. It's quite a big deal. I'm really looking forward to getting reacquainted. It's not the best time of year for visiting the Cape, but I'm also looking forward to seeing home again (as always), and eating some calamari. (Take it from me: if you ever visit Cape Town - and you should - eat a lot of seafood. Really. I never realised just how great it was until I had seafood elsewhere, which was... less great.) I'm not so much looking forward to flying for hours with morning sickness, but eh... it'll be fine. Right? Right... And hey, at least I'm ready to take my knitting along, again.

Anyway, worry not, the shop will not be closing. Eszter the Needle Elf will be on duty, so orders will go out promptly as usual. She'll also be monitoring the email, but most queries will probably have to wait till my return, on 3 September. Ah well, that's not long, eh? See you then. Stay well, as they say in my country. (Now you say "go well". Go on. It's the rules.*)

_____
* Actually, it's usually the other way around: first "go well", then "stay well". And it should really be "hamba kahle - sala kahle". But hey. Whatever works, right?

August 12, 2008

Huzzah!

A miracle: I picked up the needles today. Did quite a few rounds, too. I wouldn't say I'm entirely back to the usual level of addiction, but it's starting to sound like fun again.

Cheers, whistles etc. I am *so* glad the mojo is coming back.

August 11, 2008

Squee!

Unexpected good thing of the day: I got an email from the BBC (yes, that BBC) saying they've linked Purlescence in a green knitting guide. I blush! I squeal!

August 05, 2008

Twisted ideas

Since I've told you what a fan I am of the Twist Collective, I reckon it's only reasonable to pick out some of my favourite patterns, with yarn suggestions from our shelves. And not forgetting this week's launch of the less controversial Knotions - an online magazine on the familiar free model, with a focus on beautiful presentation and fashion-forward designs (take note of the colour trend article, I love the photography here). Let's see...

Gnarled Oakwoods would be just wonderful in Camelspin. Can you imagine how yummy?

Claudia Hand Painted and Madeline Tosh sock yarns both use Louet Gems as a base, so Lissajous will be a perfect fit for either of them.

Cleite is perfect, perfect, perfect for either Nature's Harvest wild silk (wouldn't the Demeter colour look stunning?) or Madeline Tosh's Natural Silk Lace. Though I'm also imagining it in Artyarns cashmere 1-ply... delicious!

I'm picturing Edgy in Handmaiden's Swiss Mountain Silk Cashmere. Wow.

And I think Autumn Leaves would translate fantastically well into Bio Bamboo - perhaps in chocolate with a duck egg contrast. (Damn. Now I want to cast on for that right now.)

But the one I'm actually most likely to make first? Well, possibly Cleite - I really love that. But I think smaller, quicker projects are the best bet for me right now, and I have a hankering for some Casbah socks. Maelstrom is probably the winner!

August 04, 2008

Twisty thinking

Have you seen the Twist Collective? It's a fabulous new online magazine - and by new, I mean really new; groundbreaking. As the name suggests, it's published by a group of designers, editors etc, and functions largely as a showcase and shopfront for their talents: most of the patterns are for individual sale, not for free. You can browse the magazine, read the excellent articles, take inspiration from the beautifully photographed designs, and not pay a cent; but if you want to knit a project, you have to shell out around $6 to $7 apiece.

I think this is not only fair, but the future (or perhaps, one future model) of online publishing. In fact, more than a year ago, I was daydreaming about my fantasy future knitting magazine (oh, you know you do the same!), and this was a major feature of it: patterns for sale. (My model was quite different in many ways, including pricing structure, but this idea was part of it.) It just made sense to me that for a professional publication, all-free patterns would not enable the magazine to deliver suitable quality to the readers, nor to pay the designers appropriately. So, create a catalogue (as some are calling it) that offers plenty of fantastic free content, and provides an opportunity for readers to pay only for what they really want to knit - not for a whole issue of perhaps not-my-style filler. Eminently reasonable, right? After all, nobody's making anybody pay anything. There are plenty of sources of great free patterns for those who want them. And many of us get just as much joy from simply looking at interesting design concepts and details, mentally bookmarking them for future use in our own projects. So frankly, it's a win all round; especially if the magazine is really well produced - as the Twist Collective most certainly is.

But of course it's a new model, and it requires some adjustment, and some people are quite het up about that. I understand they might be disappointed that it's not free, when we're so used to online magazines providing free content. (Lucky, lucky, spoilt us.) But really I am amazed at the strength of feeling that's coming out. Some quotes from Ravelry (and please understand, I don't mean to attack anyone behind these words; I just find the sentiments expressed fascinating because they are so alien to me):

"I know that 100 dollars isn’t enough to actually compensate a designer for all the work put into a pattern, but I sort of took that as a given… doing what you love to do rarely makes people rich."
Isn't that weird? The idea that it's somehow *wrong* to make a living from doing what you love, and therefore it's okay to effectively exploit their passion by paying below-cost rates?

"They may call it a business model, but I call it deception... It is greed and I don’t like it."
This person was arguing that it was unfair to make readers pay for what "the magazine" should be paying for; she also claimed that Twist was offering "NOTHING" to the readers! Again, I'm thoroughly flummoxed by this point of view. Apart from the lack of understanding of economics (how, exactly, should a magazine pay its designers if not with money gained from readers, eg via the cover price?), and the assumption that everything except the actual pattern instructions constituted no reader value whatsoever... I am amazed at the accusation of deception and greed. How is it deceptive to put a product out there and ask for payment? How is it greed to want the end user to pay for (some of!) what they get?

The greed point is the bit that really rankles. Because surely, the most greedy thing is to expect to get patterns for free - when patterns take many, many, many hours of hard work to write. When did knitters get so entitled? When did we start to feel we were owed the fruits of others' labours for nothing?