The Romance of Knitting

Winding Up (Alternate Title: Courtship) (1836)
William Sidney Mount (American, 1807-1868)
Oil on wood panel, 18 3/8 x 14 15/16 inches (46.67 x 37.94 cm)
F77-39
Gift of the Enid and Crosby Kemper Foundation
The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art
Kansas City, Missouri


With February upon us, and St. Valentine’s Day approaching, I chose a romantic painting with knitting to start the month. Is this, however, another three needle painting like some of the others I have discussed in this blog? The knitting, on the stool behind the girl, appears to be a tubular object – a stocking, undersleeve, long cap, perhaps? Three needles on the knitting are clearly visible but the fourth, and, possibly, a fifth, may be loose and lying on the stool, under the knitting. There are two long dark lines in the middle of the stool but I think they are decorative elements like the work around the side edges of the stool. I can also just see another light line just to the left of the knitting coming out almost over the front of the edge of the stool - could this be another needle peeking out from under the knitting?

The young woman is winding wool that she will use to continue work on the dropped knitting as there is no ball of wool on the stool and only a strand of yarn from the knitting, waiting to be joined on, can just be seen hanging over the edge. She appears to be holding another skein of blue yarn on her arm. I have not read analyses of this painting so I may be repeating what has already been written but I see the skeins and the knitting as highly symbolic. The names of the painting, Winding Up and Courtship should, perhaps, be listed in reverse order. The courtship seems to be at an end, winding up, and the couple, bathed in warm daylight but snug inside of the house, are situated by the hearth, which is suggestive of home and passion. The young woman, dressed in a gown of red (a color of love) and in her apron, engaged in creating clothing, is thus visually promising a future as a dutiful wife. Her knitting, tossed down on the stool, is, however, a progressive object begun, as is her adult life. The wool of her work is hanging over an edge, waiting to be attached to another ball just as the young woman has also reached a possible precipice in her life but seems to be, from the expression on her face, inclined towards the ultimate attachment. Her suitor, who is assisting her with winding her light coloured (natural, undyed, white (the colour of purity)?) wool, will not only help her to complete what she is knitting but the story of her life, this continuation suggested by the second blue skein waiting to be wound up. Could the sharp points of the needles and the dangling strand of wool also be foreshadowings of unpleasant things to come? Let us hope, instead, that the ball of wool that is being wound will soon be attached to that dangling strand on the stool and the future joined life of the two young people in the painting will be as secure and firm as the knitting on the needles.


Click on the painting for a larger view and for an even better image, click on this link: http://www.the-athenaeum.org/art/full.php?ID=21893

A Statement in Knitting

Knitting history is what I try to do and so, with lots of leftover skeins, partial and whole, of Paternayan Pesian crewel/tapestry/needlepoint wool, I knit this piece, randomly using colours. History is random and ever-changing, too, but also repeats itself, as do the wools. The letters are in evergreen, because history is alive, and green is my favourite colour. I considered doing an outline stitch around the letters to make them more prominent but decided against that for two reasons, namely, I do not like to mix techniques in my work, and the lessons of history are not always evident, and thus, to use the cliche, it is doomed to repeat itself. If we could all clearly see the lessons of history all of the time, that would not happen, a theory, of course, which ignores the human factor. The corners are not beautifully and invisibly sewn as they are scars that all history leaves behind.

The piece measures 16” across and 10” down and the capital letters measure 2” high. It was knit it on 2.75/2US size needles.

I am still blocking the piece and will probably knit a plain back piece and attach it to the front to keep it flat as the edges keep curling inwards, no matter how much I block them. The knitting on the edge/frame sections is flatter probably because I was not changing colours as much nor was I carrying the green strands behind. I probably should have made the edges/frame sections wider but I was just about out of wool so I had to stop. In fact, if you enlarge the photo and look very carefully at the bottom row of the piece, you will see an almost complete row of brown as I ran out of black at the very end.

Flat-End Miser's Purse

I am enjoying experimenting with different miser's purses. This one was knit on 1.75mm/00US size needles and used approximately twenty-four skeins of seventeen different colours of DMC Six Strand Embroidery Floss. The same flat-end trellis pattern is knit on the reverse side in similar but different colours in an effort to stash bust. The two shaded green section was knit in the round and the floral part in two flat sections which were then sewn together. (Click on the photograph for a larger version.)

The purse measures 2" across at the middle of the flat end and 2 ½” across at its bottom end. The floral section, not including the blue rows on the top and bottom, is 1 ¼” long. The circular green part measures 3 ¼” at its widest part when laid flat. The slit in the middle (not visible) is 2" long and the length of the purse, not including the pompom, is 12".

I based the floral design on an early 19th century French purse from the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, MA:
http://www.mfa.org/collections/search_art.asp?recview=true&id=47438&coll_keywords=miser+purse&coll_accession=&coll_name=&coll_artist=&coll_place=&coll_medium=&coll_culture=&coll_classification=&coll_credit=&coll_provenance=&coll_location=&coll_has_images=&coll_on_view=&coll_sort=0&coll_sort_order=0&coll_view=0&coll_package=0&coll_start=21. The original purse was knit in silk with glass and metal beads.

The pompom at the dark green edge was suggested by the Nelson Purse (see a previous post) and plastic rings were wrapped with silver thread to mimic silver rings.

1855 Mitt Revisited

I have been re-working this pattern for Knitted Mitten and Bracelet, Godey’s Lady’s Book and Magazine, Volume 51, August, 1855, pp. 169-170 which can be found at

http://books.google.com/books?id=K8ZMAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA10...=onepage&q=godey’s%20august%201855&f=false

I used the same wools as before (vintage Beehive Moorland and Morehouse Farm Merino Lace) on 2mm/0US dpns for the cuff and bracelet, and 2.25mm/1US for the hand.

The pattern suggests a “bracelet” for the wrist but does not include instructions for one. I looked at and tried out several patterns for ruffles and frills (which is what the Bracelet really is) from periodical patterns of the 1850’s-1880’s and found one that comes close in words to a ruffle in the “frill” pattern for a Legging for a Lady or Child by Mrs. Jane Weaver, Peterson’s Magazine, Volume 50, No. 3, September, 1866, pp. 205-206. The frill pattern is on page 206 but it does not resemble the illustration of the one on the Legging:

http://books.google.com/books?id=4iHQAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA20...=onepage&q=knitted%20frill&f=false

It also does not resemble the bracelet in spite of its similarity to the six row pattern for the ruffle of the 1880’s Night-Cap in Double Rose-Leaf Pattern, published in Weldon’s Practical Knitter, Twenty-Sixth Series: (http://historyknits.blogspot.com/2008_07_01_archive.html Scroll down to July 15th, 2008.)

The nine row Peterson’s pattern, due to the combination of knit and purl stitches in each set, produces a rather flat edging. I first knit this frill on 4.50mm/7US needles in Nature Spun Worsted (so I could really see the stitches, and then on 1.75mm/00US in Nature Spun Lace Weight, and it came out completely flat in the heavier yarn. The white Morehouse Farm Merino Lace on 2.25mm/1US needles sample was more delicate but needed encouragement to stand up or buckle. It still did not really resemble the tight, rippling Bracelet of the 1855 mitt pattern which is interesting as the increase method resembles the Weldon’s frill/ruffle pattern except for the combination of knit and purl stitches in each set (which provides the flattening effect), the added number (usually two) of non-increase stitches in each set of increases (there are more in the Peterson’s) and the repeat rows of non-increase rows.

The grey Morehouse Farm Merino Lace sample is the Peterson’s pattern with only one non-increase row in between the increase rows. There is less flatness but still not as much ripple as in the Weldon’s pattern.

In conclusion, the Weldon’s ruffle pattern (on the brown mitt here) from the 1880’s most closely resembles the illustration of the Bracelet of 1855 which leads me to believe that the Weldon’s pattern is a basic ruffle pattern that was in use for quite a few decades throughout the 19th century since the 1855 pattern’s writer assumed it was a technique that was generally known and there was, therefore, no need to include it with the pattern for the mitts. The search continues, however, to find it in print in a publication from an earlier part of the 19th century.

Halloween

The history of Halloween has interested me since childhood. I have always loved stories of ghosts, haunted and spooky places. No horror, gore or violence - just the mystery, legends and general autumnal atmosphere and glorious colours associated with this season.

For some years, I portrayed an 18th century witch at an annual fun-filled, campy Halloween festival. Knitting, of course, had to be part of the act. I found large orange plastic needles (19mm/35 US) to whose ends I glued the decapitated heads of small plastic dolls. With their now messy hair and eyes that opened and closed, the dolls’ faces now took on a rather stunned and confused expression.

I then knit a scrappy piece, complete with holes and dropped stitches, out of Silver Berrrocco yarn which shimmered in the lantern and candle light. At the Halloween event, dressed in ragged 18th century clothing, I would ask the children if they liked my knitting. Some would say yes but when they said no, I informed them (in a suitably crackly voice) that I once knew two little girls who didn’t like my knitting but “I dealt with them!”, as I furiously knit, making the dolls’ heads move up and down and those eyes flutter all of the time. This would produce laughter, some of it nervous, from the children.

I am not, however, reprising the Halloween role this year so I decided to decorate a pointy black hat with the witch’s knitting, all sewn on with nylon invisible thread.

Trafalgar Day

The Battle of Trafalgar, as Seen from the Mizen Starboard Shrouds of the Victory (1806-1808), J.M.W. Turner (1775-1851)
Oil on canvas, 1708 x 2388 mm frame: 2181 x 2860 x 190 mm
Accepted by the nation as part of the Turner Bequest, 1856
British
Tate Gallery, London, England

18th Century French Knitting

Madame Lepage
Dominque (Guillaume Dominque Jacques) Doncre (1743-1820)
(French, 1797)
Oil on canvas; 91 x 77 cm
(867.2.1)
Musee des Beaux-Arts, Arras, France

I have mixed reactions to this painting. I like it very much because it dates from one of my favourite decades in history and of clothing, and it contains knitting with visible needles. What I do not like about it is the fairly flat quality of the furniture and hangings. They are simple, and look worn and old. The face, clothing (wonderful pleating on the bodice) and the knitting have been addressed but like the partially knit stocking, the painting seems unfinished to me. Like many paintings of knitters, the subject appears to have been interrupted in her work but her expression is calm, almost contemplative, as if she has put her knitting aside for a few moments and is now holding a pose or turning her face a certain way for the painter. She does not look annoyed as does the serving girl in another one of my favourite knitting paintings:

http://historyknits.blogspot.com/2008/03/knitting-in-art.html

I have tried to find out who Madame Lepage was but without success. Did she live in Arras? Was her family or husband active in the textile business since her gown is the most vivid part of the painting? It captures the viewer’s attention at once and the eye (unless one is a knitter) travels upwards from it to the face. Her powdered hair speaks of a fading fashion but her gown is an indication of the future. Her straight-backed pose is unlike those flowing, vibrant ones of her contemporaries painted by
Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun or some of the sensuous classical poses of Jacques-Louis David’s ladies. Why did she, perhaps a lady of some social standing, choose to be painted with her knitting? Did she come from a humble background? Is this a post-Revolutionary statement that shows a person of position who is connected to the common people by doing her own knitting or did she just enjoy knitting and so wanted it to be included in her painting or is this a message that she is industrious? The ball of wool and the knitting certainly have pride of place in the painting; the garter stitch edge/welting of the stocking lies on the subject’s lap, facing the viewer and at least a third of the stocking is on the four fine metal needles which, pointing upwards and bisecting each other become a functional part of the painting, forming a V shape which is repeated above in the neckline of the gown and framed by sideways V shapes in the position of the arms on either side. The subject is ultimately set in an oval (in this image, at least; I have not seen the original) which, with the puffed up, rounded hair style and full folds of the background hangings, ultimately softens those mirror sharp angles of the sitter’s arms and gown’s neckline and the knitting needles in her lap.

I am reminded of another favourite contemporary (1791-1792) work by David:

http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/exhibitions/Rococo/Madame

The subject in this painting wears infomal clothing, and sits sewing beside the cradle of her child, without any decorative furniture or background detail at all although this painting is considered unfinished. Unlike Madame Lepage, Madame de Pastoret barely pauses in her work and, characteristically, looks the viewer straight in the eye. How I wish the latter had been knitting or had some evidence of it included in the painting, such as an open workbox with wool and needles spilling out, perhaps, on the floor beside her.

NOTE: The link to the painting of Madame de Pastoret and Her Son is courtesy of The Art Institute of Chicago® 
by URL: www.artic.edu/aic. I also recommend reading more about the life of Madame de Pastoret.