Dreaming of Fiber Arts

Last night I had my first spinning class at Tempe Yarn and Fiber, and by the end of the night, I was making yarn. Not particularly good yarn, but yarn nonetheless. I have to remind myself every time I pick up a new craft that it’s difficult to learn new things, and it’s okay for it to be hard. Spinning requires a higher level of coordination than knitting or crochet, and it really wasn’t that long ago that I was swearing that I’d never be a knitter because it was so much slower than crochet.

Can you believe I’ve only been knitting for eight months? It’s become so all-encompassing so fast, and I feel like I should be further along, or faster, or more productive, but…eight months. And I’m not one of those girls who learned knitting as a child, then put it down, either. My mother doesn’t knit, she cross-stitched and sewed when she had time, which was rarely; my grandmother had arthritis in her hands so bad that she could barely write. All of these crafts I’m learning are completely from scratch.

At the same time, and despite the lack of literal connection, I feel deeply connected to my female ancestors when I pick up the needles. Knitting and crochet, spinning and sewing, all resonate back to a time when it was a necessity rather than a luxury. I never thought I could find pleasure in the simple domestic arts, but even keeping my small apartment clean is satisfying in a way I never imagined possible.

Last night I dreamt of spinning. I’ve been dreaming about knitting a lot (I’ve been knitting all day for weeks on end, so it’s not surprising) but this morning I woke up with my fingers held together, my hands in drafting position. I’m tucking my drop spindle into my bag alongside my sock project, just in case, and I hope I have enough time today to stop by TYF and spend some time on the wheel.

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~ by Amber on February 15, 2011.

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