the man who crochets

you dream of a man who understands you.  does he exist?  is there a male on this earth who sees your innate need to pick up hook and yarn in your worship of the art of crochet?  he will see your passion, nay thrive on it, observe your natural instinct to dive deep into motif and rounds.  he will watch, admiringly content to sit shotgun as your soul ascends higher to crochet heaven. 

your dream fades as you hear over and over again,"why do you do that?" over the superbowl crowd static year after year as those who do not know pass in and out of your romantic life.  the voice is always different, but the tone is the same.  puzzlement, impatience, jealousy that you spend time doting over sc, dc and hdc, rather than his needs.  another one bites the dust.  at least you know how to eliminate them now; you are kind to conserve their time, their energy, rather than leading them on to think that you are a girl who would put a fella before crochet.

then you find yourself in a magical place.  one that you are not sure really exists.  could this be real?  perhaps it was that second glass of wine, or you fell asleep in the middle of a row again, your counting guiding your dreams.  he is watching you, complimenting your hands, your artistry, your dedication.  he is actually impressed with your skill and (gasp) asking you to teach him how to crochet!  could this be it?  are you one step closer to your dream?  he grins boyishly and shyly looks down at the work in your hands.  he tenderly tells you he wants to make you a birthday gift!

you envision the quiet, comforting tones of soft music, the only words between you are those of counting as he gently weaves the fibers into a scarf for you, a pair of slippers for your dainty feet, a masculine sweater to drape over your welcoming arms.  you accompany him to the local yarn shoppe and help him choose just the right yarn for this gift of affection.  it is to be a secret – even better.  what a find!  what a man!

weeks pass, and he has kept this grand secret, never letting you see, dodging your inquiries, building the surprise.  he has provided one hint – you wear it on your head.  a hat!  images of him struggling through a pattern in the round, thinking only of your warmth and comfort.  the effort, the devotion, it makes your heart flutter.  your birthday approaches, and you envision a cute cap, complete with crocheted brim, perhaps accented with a lovely sparkly button or delicate crocheted flower.  he presents his labor of love, your hands quiver as you unwrap this, what is sure to be the only chapeau you will ever wear from this moment on:

bless him.

coo-coo for cozies

i have only within the past few months truly started to understand the magnitude of the cozy craze.  why this facsination?  is my ipod cold?  does my waterbottle feel loved when wrapped in the warmth of my handmade crochet?

perhaps it is not the wrapped, but the wrapper.  as avid crocheters, we are movers and shakers.  knitting is clean, crochet is tough.  knitting is delicate and crochet, even in lace, is a composition of knots.  knitting is meditative and calming and crocheters find solace in the speed with which we can produce a finished product.  we can build up our portfolios with creative and numerous cozies.  we can nonchallantly say, "yeah, i made 3,462 of those," with a wave of the wrist.  we can wrap up every material possession in a customized blanket of our skill and dedication.  coo-coo for cozies - go crocheters, go!

from 2008:

parallels between Cassatt and crochet

just added to FREE PATTERNS! - Seed Stitch Share-Me Skull Cap!  Check it out!

http://captivcrochet.blogspot.com/p/free-crochet-patterns.html

i am by no means an art historian.  yes, i did take one art history class in college.  unfortunately, i was victim to the dark room, the hum of the slide projector, and the droning monotone of my prof.  so sad!  i really DID love learning about art in the form of paint on a canvas!  i have often wondered if my fate would have taken a different turn if i were a coffee drinker back then, rather than a beer drinker the night before art history class.

i did, however, pick up a little about describing what i see and how my brain and soul puts things together.  this lovely painting, of The Crochet Lesson, is very much like the art of crochet itself.  there is a form, it is dense and vibrant, and it is filled with the individual and unique effort of the artist.  there are no hard lines, edges are soft and merely suggest a visual transformation of space.  the only way you could find the moment of chemical transition between air and yarn is to do so with your fingers.  i love this painting....i wonder who is who.  is it sisters? friends?  a governess and her ward? a mom and daughter?  regardless, the moment they share happens with a hook, a yarn, and two pairs of hands.

time spent in social media is time away from my crochet!

alright, all of you.  i know the expectations of a designer/creative poser in the 21st century and, while i am not at all pleased at how things have evolved, i am willing to play along for the love of the yarn.

i'm told that if i want to share my inspriations and just maybe make a little ka-ching doing so, i have to spend an ungodly amount of time doing this blog-thing, telling no one in particular what i am doing and seeking out kudos from a dead space.  this same person(s) tells me that, if i want to replace my recently disappeared job, this is type of ass-expanding activity is also a must-do.

ok, i have fought it - didn't get on facebook (excuse me, "FB") until 2010 and i believe my first posting was something akin to the fact that "FB is a ridiculous waste of time" but here i am, blogging to no one in particular about how i would rather be crocheting.  maybe i should just shut up, shut my laptop, pick up my hook and get it going!

hook on!