Grouping Stitches for Time Contraction

It is easy for one's attention to flag particularly when working on a huge piece of knitting. Most knitters are so daunted, for example, by the idea of doing 250 stitches on a single row that they would rather divide the work into several pieces, knit them separately, and then stitch them together afterward.

Contract time by mentally grouping your stitches while you work on them.

To illustrate, instead of doing (K1, K2) 125 times for a total of 250 stitches, group the stitches by fives as follows:

(K1, K2) "One", (K1, K2) "Two", (K1, K2) "Three", (K1, K2) "Four", (K1, K2) "Five", then tell yourself, "First group done";

(K1, K2) "One", (K1, K2) "Two", (K1, K2) "Three", (K1, K2) "Four", (K1, K2) "Five", then tell yourself, "Second group done";

and so on.

Your 250 stitches will register in your mind as 50 groupings (or 50 units, or 50 "stitches").

This is one way of contracting time, and you will find yourself accomplishing a lot more work in significantly less hours.

Always knit to fit.

And so you are fit to knit.

One of the the fairy tales that I associate with knitting is "The Wild Swans" by Hans Christian Andersen. In this story Elise, a young maiden, must rescue her 12 brothers from the spell cast by a witch. The brothers turn into wild swans and return to their original bodies only at a certain time and place.

In order to save her brothers Elise must weave 12 tunics out of grass for them. Yes, the word is "weave", but my common sense leads me to believe that the tunics were more realistically knitted rather than woven on a (presumably large) loom which is not mentioned in the story.

Several items in this fairy tale are of interest to me:

--Transformation into swans means, to me, the ability to astral-travel.

--A piece of knitting can be an instrument of salvation.

--Knitting must be performed in silence (a restriction imposed on Elise), and seems to indicate that knitting can be used magically, as a parallel act that ensures the safety of astral travelers--or something else, depending on one's intent.

--The youngest brother retains his ability to astral-travel in the end, because Elise, unable to meet her deadline, misses completing one of the sleeves of his tunic.

--The use of grass implies that royalty or aristocracy must don the tunics of the poor in order to be complete human beings.

--The female within every man is his source of integration toward complete manhood.

Sometimes, when I am knitting, I think of Elise.

Like lighting a candle or arranging flowers in a vase, knitting can be a form of prayer.

Thinking with Symmetry and with Asymmetry

A knitter's normal assumption about a pattern is that it is symmetrical, such as in the working of fronts and backs of sweaters, sleeves, and so on. Since this is more often the case than not in existing patterns, almost every knitter thinks symmetrically, and is bogged down whenever a pattern demands asymmetry in thinking. A knitter must therefore be capable of thinking asymmetrically as well. This flexibility in thinking prevents the knitter from developing obsession-compulsion, crankiness, and a bipolar personality.

Before commencing a pattern therefore, determine which passages will demand symmetrical or asymmetrical thinking on your part before working, and adjust your mindset accordingly.

Easier said than done, I know, because reading a knitting pattern is like reading sheet music--you need to hear the entire symphony, see that the different stitches are different musical instruments, and know where something could go wrong based on the pattern alone. It's why patterns are accompanied by photographs.

Perhaps, if we accompanied Shakespeare's plays with photographs, our children will understand his works better.

Personalizing Your Mental Script

While knitting, substitute your own meaningful or playful word, phrase, or association with knitting terms.

For example:

Instead of mentally thinking "K1, P1," switch to "Kick 1, Push 1," " Red 1, Blue 1," "Monday 1, Friday 1," "Kurt 1, Peggy 1," and so on.

This exercise:

--Infuses new, creative energy in your knitting
--Improves your memory
--Expands your imagination
--Dispels boredom
--Merges your knitting with your life, past and present

Revising Your Mental Script on Single Rows

When working a single row, for example:

K1, sl 1, P1, sl 1, K2, P2

Break the pattern into separate mental groups, such as:

[K1, sl 1] [P1, sl 1] [K2, P2]

This will provide subconscious rhythm to your mental script and improve your memory--pretty much in the same way an actor memorizes dialogue in a script.

Revising Your Mental Script on Alternating Rows

The reason many knitters make wrong stitches (e.g. purling instead of knitting and vice-versa) is that they become so fixated on a row that they are unable to change their mental script on the next row.

For example, on:

Knit Row: K1, sl 1, K1, sl 1
Purl Row: P1, sl 1, P1 sl 1

On the Knit Row, the knitter thinks to himself as he knits, "Knit one, slip one, knit one, slip one" repeatedly, so that when it is time to switch to the Purl Row, his mental script remains the same and is still reading, "Knit one, slip one, knit one, slip one" instead of "Purl one, slip one, purl one, slip one".

Instead of using the usual and traditional script such as that mentioned above, revise it to read, "Make one, slip one, make one, slip one..." and so on, on every row, being aware, before commencing each row, that you are on a Knit Row or on a Purl Row.

Do try it.

It works.

When I am knitting, my Conscious is so sharply focused that my Unconscious rises and expands like a sail, allowing psychic messages to come in.

Insight is the sudden ability to understand the logic behind a stitch and how it falls within a pattern.

Every stitch is a brush stroke.

Every lot is a tone.

Ground Plan for a Dollhouse: A Tool for a Workshop in Creativity

March 7, 2015

I finished making this knitted ground plan for a dollhouse, to be used in a creativity workshop that I am conducting for "disadvantaged" children in Singapore.

In the mid-70s I was enrolled for an M.A. in Clinical Psychology, and most of my practicum was in leading play therapy sessions for the emotionally disturbed. I had a four-foot dollhouse with an elevator and, of course, a lot of the smaller ones. All of them were culture-bound; some Filipino children had difficulty relating to them. Moreover, the dollhouse roofs always were visual obstructions, and it was rather awkward to rearrange dolls and dollhouse furniture inside the rooms while tending to knock down everything else.

In my knitted dollhouse, portions can be folded under as the workshop facilitator or therapist deems right. Rooms can also be elevated by placing books beneath the knitted work.

From bottom, there is a street (the social image) and a strip of grass leading to the entrance to the lot, which is bordered by a pink rose hedge (the defense mechanisms). The living room on the right is in old rose (the persona), a visual transition from the rose hedge. The dining room (willingness to share) on the left is in orange; above it is the kitchen in pale pink (management of resources) on the left and a study in yellow (solitude, mental activity, experimentation) on the right. A portion of the study room is lined in pale pink; the subject may be informed that it is either a wall of bookshelves or a secret vault. There is a midpoint of the cross-shaped blue passage (the center of consciousness). The grass and the passage turn darker in shade above, signaling the approach to the unconscious--the realm of the Shadow.

Above left, in magenta, is the parents' bedroom; to the right, in pale blue, is the children's bedroom. Between them is a T/B, which, like the kitchen and the bookshelves/secret vault, is in pale pink.

The rose hedge turns darker and the grass fades into earth above. The swimming pool (or pond, if the subject prefers) is a 1950s kidney-shape which I deliberately made to somewhat look like a fetus (regression).

Beyond the rose hedge (the defense mechanisms) is an empty lot on the left, in dark blue (the collective unconscious) and a public playground on the right in brown (a stage for the Shadow or for fantasy personages). Again, the boundaries here are in pale pink.

This work is washable, foldable, highly portable, easy to store, and measured to accommodate standard dollhouse furniture, which I did not bother to include in this photo. It can, by the way, double up as a small blanket, a sofa throw, or a shawl.

Never snap up yarn that is conspicuously on sale too quickly.

Chances are, it is on sale because too many customers have complained about it for any or all of the following reasons:

--it is brittle and breaks off easily.
--it has too many burrs
--it feels itchy against the skin.
--it has inconsistent ply.
--it pills.

Don't be content with being a magazine-pattern knitter.

Knit like a Velazquez--how would he have knitted?

Knit like a Braque--how would he have knitted?

Knit like a Picasso--how would he have knitted?

Carry your knitting along with the various art movements. Have you ever heard of a post-postmodern knitter?

Life is like knitting. You follow a pattern and then you have to do everything for yourself.

Knitting Love Spell 1

As you wind yarn round your bobbin, visualize your loved one coming closer and closer to you.

People who claim that they can knit but cannot purl are truly incredible. It's like:

--playing tennis and not being capable of backhand strokes.
--writing from the point of view of a man and not being capable of writing from the point of view of a woman.
--being able to inhale but not being able to exhale.
--playing Scrabble, forming words, and not being capable of reversing those words.
--being able to perform onstage but not being able to work backstage and in the wings.

I've heard of writer's block, but purling block is quite unbelievable.

If you can multiply but not divide, all you have to do is use more hours practicing division.

If you can knit but "cannot" purl, it is possible that, the truth is:

--you are lazy to learn.
--you have poor motor coordination.
--you are exercising your defense mechanisms against the act of knitting.

In the Philippines knitting knows no economic classes. On one hand there are those who buy expensive needles and admire them so much that some of them are set aside and remain unused; on the other hand I know of children in Baguio City who, many years ago, knitted sweaters using old barbecue sticks and sold them to stores.

I observe in this country that, once the love affair with knit and purl has produced many functional works, the really discouraging factor is not progressively difficult patterns but knitting tools and aids that cannot be improvised.

If it is possible to raise watercolor and chalk pastel to the level of oil, then it is also possible to raise knitting to the same.

Once you have mastered knitting, BREAK THE RULES.

Experiment with split yarn.

Don't always end on a purl row.

Allow stitches to drop.

Variegate your tension.

Increase and decrease in stitches even when uncalled for.

Don't be conscious of stitches. Be conscious, instead, of knitted shapes.

Know the dangerous boundaries and dare to tread over them.

Push your work to the cutting edge.

Only then will you be able to take knitting to the level of real high fashion and serious art.

Down with "magazine knitting"--leave machines to do that.

Up with knitting as fabric art!

Learning how to knit is like learning how to play the piano. Your drills are the different stitches. Your pieces are the different patterns. You end up as a party entertainer, as  a concert pianist, or as a composer.

I have known of modern paintings that sold for a million dollars each.

I have yet to know of a contemporary, knitted work of art that sold for the same price.

I found this work from the early 90s inside my knitting cabinet. My eleventh and last annual play for Ateneo Children's Theatre was Ignatius of Loyola. I knitted the gauntlets with silver and black yarn, along with a lot of stuff for cast members, while sitting in on rehearsals. One of the boys who played Inigo brought me some baby yarn because he wanted me to knit a sweater for him.

This is the un-made-up, un-blocked, front design of the sweater.

The boy never came back to claim his sweater. That is why I still have it.

Time spirals on like yarn unwinding from a skein.

Part of My Archive of Knitting Literature

In the foreground are part of my jubilee collection of Philippine vehicles and, behind those, two of my magical bladed weapons.

One of my fetishes, an antique stone goat, sits complacently on the shelf.

More magical bladed weapons in the foreground--and a hand-carved, wooden spirit-caller from Thailand.

The Metaphysics of Knitting

To this day I have never met a fellow knitter--male or female, in person or in cyberspace--who shares my insights on knitting and can discuss with me the metaphysics of knitting. Other knitters seem to be more focused on craft rather than on art.

Knitting, to me, represents the ability to recognize patterns in life. In the 90s I taught an elective course titled Parental Wounding and Healing at a university; it was, in essence, a course in recognizing negative patterns in family life and, rather than stopping at that, going further and revising those patterns.

Mastering knitting is mastering the ability to see patterns, follow patterns, break patterns, and create patterns--that is the natural cycle. It is also about knowing how to knit, and knowing how to and be willing to unravel.

To see a ball of yarn transformed into a woven fabric is an earthshaking experience to me.

To view a cotton T-shirt through a powerful magnifying lens and to see that it is made of insect-scale knits and purls.

To mull over God's Creation, and to consider whether materials things--such as trees and stones--and non-material things--such as thoughts and emotions--could not be made of knits and purls as well, and to identify them.

To see the knits of everyday life, to see the purls of everyday life.

To apply the lessons of knitting to a lifetime.

To be willing to unravel.

To create.

Like a cup of hot soup at night that calms my nerves, knitting centers my body and my spirit.

I knit after I paint, and I knit after I write. Knitting unravels all the gnarled muscles in my forearms, hands, and fingers caused by other kinds of manual work.

I have yet to come upon a convincing explanation as to why a finished, knitted work becomes much heavier than all the balls of yarn it took to create it.

Knitting In Public

I went out of my way to be seen knitting in public: in schools, in offices, in public vehicles. Strangers would approach me and watch me work. They would ask what I was doing--they knew what crochet was, but had no concept of what knitting was. They called my knitting crochet (gantsilyo). Women, especially, would ask my permission to touch and fondle my work, particularly when I was using fancy yarn they'd never seen before.

Of course people laughed at me. That was the point. I let them--until they got tired laughing and took a harder look at what I was really doing.

In the decade of the 80s, when I was learning how to knit, the majority of women in the Philippines refused to do domestic, "women's", work. This was a result of the mounting waves of feminism in the country, some of it authentic, most of it postured. Every girl's dream was to have a career outside the home. This became evident even while the girls were still in school--they refused to do projects such as knitting, crochet, and sewing, and designated these tasks to their maids. The art of needlecraft was abandoned in the name of women's lib. Alas, most of the girls ended up as secretaries and filing clerks with broken dreams. Quite a few working mothers were perplexed when their children grew up dysfunctional.

At the time, I figured that if women were keen on shunning knitting, then it wouldn't be wrong for me to take over and succeed.

I think, that is why I knitted in public. I still do. It's a social statement.

My Bobbins

These are the two types of knitting bobbins I use.

The bobbin above is easier to use if one prefers unlocking the yarn once and having it flow freely while knitting an entire row.

The bobbin below is preferred by obsessive-compulsives. There is more yarn control, and one can even measure how much yarn will be consumed on a row by the number of times the yarn is unlocked from the bobbin.

I had these bobbins made of clear acrylic. I call them "ghost bobbins". It's as though the yarn is wound around thin air and hangs mysteriously suspended from my work, as I work. I use these only at home though. There is one disadvantage: when you drop them, it is hard to locate them on the floor.

Over the decades I attempted to encourage the people around me to take up knitting.

I held a fabric art exhibit, Cubao After Dark, at the Cultural Center of the Philippines in the early 90s. It received good press coverage. Many strangers, mostly female knitters, knocked on my door to show me their knitting and ask me for lessons and tips. All of them, however, were interested mainly in knitting for personal fashion and not knitting as a serious art.

I taught an elective course titled Handknitting at a university in the late 90s. I had a good number of students, with only one male, who seemed to be there for the novelty of the course and learned to knit at least the back of a sweater in one semester. None of them probably continued knitting after that.

I engaged with the personnel of Coats Manila Bay, a busy factory that produces cotton thread for distribution locally and internationally, but they seemed more concerned with sales quotas for their products and their kits.

I sponsored a summer knitting workshop in my house 13 years ago, hiring a knitting teacher to do the tedious work. My family participated in it but grew to abhor it. I recall that my granddaughter Angelique, then a little girl, kept crying in frustration because she could not cast on more than ten stitches.

The present generation seems to favor instant, as opposed to sequential, production, a result of the computer age. People prefer machines to do the work for them as much as it is possible.

I now knit only for myself, albeit knowing that I am the 100th monkey who will imprint the art of knitting in my country's collective unconscious.

Madness of Many Years Ago

These are my row markers (Left) and my stitch markers (Right). Yes, they are made of solid, 10-karat gold. I no longer recall why I had them made, other than that two goldsmiths used to visit the office on a regular basis, selling pieces of jewelry to my co-employees. Perhaps it was because I wanted to handle, while knitting, precious objects rather than objects of steel and plastic. It was a moment of Hadrianic madness. At any rate here they are--and, as you can see, I have already misplaced the fourth, big, stitch marker somewhere.

I learned knitting because I come from a family of needleworkers, though I learned this craft on my own without any prompting from them. I was into puppets when I was young. I was a writer for a children's television show. My mother and my youngest sister, Sylvia, would sew, crochet, and knit my puppet designs for me. Eventually my designs became more and more complicated and became exasperating tasks for them.

One night I picked up a how-to book on knitting and followed the instructions using two ballpoint pens and a piece of string. I discovered that I could knit and purl! I asked my sisters for knitting equipment they no longer wanted. I proceeded to knit scarves for my relatives and co-workers, then moved on to reading patterns and knitting sweaters.

My advantage was, when I had questions, my mother and my sisters were there to answer them.

It was fun following all kinds of knitting patterns, including those for gloves, socks, and stuffed toys. I amassed an entire cabinetful of knitting books and magazines. After five years of that, though, I temporarily lost my passion. SOMETHING WAS LACKING. I afterward realized, it was because I was not satisfied with the idea of knitting other people's patterns and being a slave to them. I was more than a knitter, I was an artist. I was bored with the trite conversation and petty intrigues of invisible knitters in Knitting Chat Rooms. I was challenged to create works of art, among functional works, out of knitting. Only then was my passion for this craft renewed.

Collecting Small Cases

I did not deliberately collect small cases--they sort of came my way over time. They serve me well, however, in my knitting work. Here are some of the small cases in my possession:

Top Row: Sterling silver cases--they remind me of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Steadfast Tin Soldier".

Middle Row: An enamel case between two sterling silver cases.

Bottom Row: A pierced brass case from Karachi, an Art Deco box, and an antique, sterling silver reliquary.

Top: A sandwich lunchbox, a gift from my granddaughter Angelique three years ago.

Middle: Antique tins.

Bottom Grouping: A round, cat tin containing measuring tape; a bird tin containing needles; a hexagonal tin containing stitch markers, a sunburst tin, a pig tin, a Madame Tussaud tin given to me by my sister Sylvia at least 15 years ago, and a TinTin pencil case given to me by my student Meeko two years ago.

Left Column: Camel-bone, brass, and rhinestone cases from India.

Right Column: Miniature, handwoven baskets from the Philippines.

Left: A case made of rolled, telephone directory paper, given me by children in conflict with the law at Molave Youth Home, Quezon City, when I conducted my "Writing from The Heart" workshop for them three years ago.

Right: Abalone case, a gift from Quezon City Mayor Herbert Bautista.

And, having done and said all that, my most useful cases are of translucent plastic. I want to know what I have because I can see what I have.

Welcome to my blog!

To briefly introduce myself, I am the ONLY male knitter in the Philippines, a country that has only two seasons and that has absolutely no history of knitting. As a matter of fact I may be the only PERSON who knits in this country--and, by "knits," I mean developing original patterns and sourcing out alternatives to yarn.

I belong to a family of knitters, and I have been knitting for over 35 years. Now that I have retired from a full-time job, I am making the effort to document my old and new works, a task as formidable as putting together all of my manuscripts in cyberspace, since I need to rummage through the labyrinths of my material and mental archives!

--Tuesday, December 30, 2014