I cannot say I am a perfect knitter, (or a perfect anything else, for that matter, although that is fuel for a different fire...)but I do like to make my projects as perfect as possible. Considering how far from perfect they end up, this is probably a very good thing.
However, I am currently knitting a pair of socks on the fly, and the joy of imperfection are pressing themselves upon me.
The socks are for my mother. She really liked a skein of yarn I dyed. I was going for Burgundy but ended up with an almost neon red variegated. Very pretty, but not what I needed, so it was lying around when she admired it. Aha - use for the useless yarn - pleasure number one.
Then, my mother is not a perfectionist. In fact, my perfectionism in my knitting drives her absolutely up a wall. That level of attention to detail makes her skin crawl - especially in things where, as far as she can see, imperfection does not affect useability. So, I gave myself permission to knit them the way she would knit them for herself, if she ever knit socks - the QDD, "Done is Good" standard - as opposed to my own ripping back of what was probably 3000 stitches in one sock...
I have to say, imperfection is a certain amount of fun, but I don't think it would be if it were not that I know she will love them better this way.
The knitting is moving right along. I realized I was six rows past a missed eyelet in a whole row of my lace pattern, and kept moving. I am not even questioning the improprieties in gusset decreasing - a grey area, where I will fudge for myself but feel funny fudging for, say, swap partners.
The result is that she will have these socks to wear before I need to touch up my dye job, an unheard-of feat. And I am moving in some direction, although I am not sure which...
But sometimes doing a half-assed job is...kinda fun.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment