.. one Halloween costume down, one to go.
Other Half is currently trying to consider whether or not to stab the ear with a palette knife or not.
Oh, decisions...
I Tried to Drown My Sorrows, But the Bastards Learned to Swim
Tomorrow my partner, David, and I are off to an arty little Halloween party. As I'm writing this, David is busy getting himself all Van Gogh'ed up. Both ears are still intact, thankfully. I have chosen to go as Frida Kahlo, who is pictured to the left. Having a similar colouring as Ms Kahlo made it an obvious choice - plus I get to accessorise my outfit with my beautiful Laminaria shawl. I just need to find some statement ear rings and my outfit is complete.
But look at that photo. Isn't it stunning? I keep meaning to write about what inspires me as a knitter (and as an artist - I splash paint on canvases occasionally). Art history is a huge source of inspiration as is vintage fashion plates and photography. I continue to be fascinated by how other people approach and use colour. This photo is a brilliant example: the red playing off the teal blue with small hints of pale yellow/gold(?) offering a bit of calmness. I can see those colours being translated into, say, some beautiful teal/red colourwork mittens with a tiny pale yellow motif around the wrist.
Speaking of colourwork, I started knitting the Selbu Modern beret the other night. I uncovered two colours of Sandnes Tove in my stash and cast on cheerfully. I completed eight rows of colourwork before admitting to myself that I did not like how it was working up: the grey main colour was overpowering the purple contrast colour. Time to rip out. I'm currently considering whether to use the purple yarn as the main colour and go grey for the contrast - or whether to dig deeper into the stash.
Wholly unrelated: if you want to chill out with a little flash game this weekend, may I suggest Small Worlds? It's short and you have no enemies to kill - but it is extremely atmospheric and, dare I say it, haunting.
Have a lovely Saturday, everyone.
(Title taken from my favourite Frida Kahlo quote)
I Am An Immigrant
Last night the leader of the British National Party was part of the panel on a BBC politics programme. I was glad he got the chance to be on the panel. Last time I checked Britain was a democracy with free speech and I thought it just that the leader of the BNP got a chance to speak his mind. I am an immigrant. I have been thinking of getting a t-shirt going "This Is What an Immigrant Looks Like". Maybe if I start wearing it, people will tell me why I’m wrong to be in the UK, why my presence is destroying Britain, just how I'm shattering social cohesion and in what way I'm inciting hatred. Also, I'd like to know why people want me to leave the man I love and thus ruin the life we have built together. If I wear my t-shirt, maybe the leader of the British National Party could tell me how my genetic make-up differs from his and why this alleged genetic difference makes me unwelcome in Britain in his eyes.
Earlier this month I was speaking with Anna about immigration and British politics. Our conversation made me wonder about the people who choose to become immigrants - that is, people like me - and whether we share a certain mentality or set of characteristics?
It takes a lot to uproot yourself from where you grew up and go live another country. It is not easy; it is not something you 'just do'. Once you are in that other country, you have to learn everything a-new. When do the banks open? Where do you go to buy electric bulbs? How do you get a library card? What is the difference between the various supermarkets? What's my clothes size? All this assumes that you are already fluent in the local language - if not, then you have to start learning that language or, in my case, get to grips with a particular local dialect.
I love living in Britain but it has been a long, labourious process getting to this stage. I love the beautiful landscapes with mountains and glens. I love being able to buy the books and records I want straight off the shelves rather than having to order them from abroad. I love tiny, unexpected things like bunting, rich tea biscuits, finding Roman coins, and Christmas stockings. But I still miss aspects of Denmark and I suspect I always will.
Ah, that reminds me of something which caused a kerfluffle among Danes yesterday (most people did not know whether to laugh or cry): Oprah Tours a Typical Danish Home. Because ALL Danes live like that. Uh huh. Absolutely. Yup.
Now I'm off to make myself some milky tea and some toast (how utterly radical of me!). I hope you have a lovely day no matter who you are and where you live. And be nice to your fellow human beings.
Two Steps Ahead
The Guardian is running a series of semi-humourous columns called This Column Will Change Your Life and I hit upon It's Not Easy Always Being Right the other night. I don't think I'm always right - I live in shades of grey - but I know that I often feel like I'm outsmarting people (mostly myself) which is a bastardised form of Always Being Right, of course. Unfortunately this "outsmarting people" is not particularly useful. I am not outsmarting bankers in order to make hefty profits, for instance. My brain is far more useless than that: I'm always two steps ahead of whatever I am supposed to be doing. A typical example of a telephone conversation would be: "Yes, you have misspelled my name, but I would like to address the legal issues surrounding .. okay, it's K. A. .. can we just look at section 7 befo .. yes, K.A. R..." and when I type I miss out words because my brain is always three or four sentences ahead of whatever I'm typing.
Now imagine how I read. I read very fast and can wolf down a book in a couple of hours. About ten years ago I decided that I needed to start poetry because you cannot wolf down poetry. You have to work at making meaning. You have to be patient with a quiet mind or the poem will not open up. I spent years working with poetry before I felt ready to go back to reading prose. And I still wolf down prose instead of savouring every little punctuation mark. I cannot remember characters' names nor minor details, but I can tell you if I enjoyed the read or not in very fancy terms.
I am not a New Agey person but I do wish I could live more in the present and focus on what is Right Now. Instead I'm always two steps ahead and outsmarting myself while I'm at it.
A few links that have grabbed me over the last few days: + Madeleine Albright: Read My Pins. When costume jewellery went political. + The $3,000 Scarf - or why crafting isn't necessarily a cheap hobby. + Cross-dressing in the 20th Century - a series of photos. Thanks, Alex. + The Ultimate Bauhaus Dog House - or how to produce a quintessential Ms Bookish link. + Take A Weird Break - some very odd headlines from a British women's magazine. "Spirit Mum Sends Me Elastic Bands" sums it all up. + Lady Gaga - Bad Romance (youtube). I love her forthcoming single - it's exquisitely poptastic in a super-cheesy Eurovision-goes-gay-bar-circa-1986 way. I could see Sweden offering this in a perfect Eurovision world. Other Half hates the song. Pffft.
And They Lived Happily Ever After
.. and they lived happily ever after - they being the knitter and her own Liesl.
I frogged a scarf I knitted last year but only wore twice and miraculously I got an entire top out of my three re-purposed skeins of Noro Iro. Liesl is a magical pattern, I think.
Right now I'm really using knitting as means of escape from a very, very busy life. I cannot write about the things that are happening as I have vowed to keep certain aspects of my life separate from this blog, but I am currently facing a workload which is causing me to a) freak out slightly, b) stress and worry a lot and c) have brain-freezes. I wish I could pick up a book and escape, but my head is not in that sort of space at the moment.
So I knit. I knit a lot.
Earlier this year I was told to relax by watching trashy TV and reading crap books. I've finally taken those words on board and so I'm watching a lot more TV - whilst knitting, of course - than I usually do. This has lead me to conclude that FlashForward is very bad; that True Blood is very interesting; that Merlin is very silly, has pretty art direction and occasionally sports hidden depths; and that I have very little patience for reality TV (bar BBC's MasterChef which Other Half watches religiously).
In other news, the most despicable "newspaper" in the UK - the Daily Mail which does not deserve a link - has published a poisonous article on the death of boyband singer Stephen Gately of Boyzone (BBC link). I read the homophobic article itself earlier today before the Daily Mail found it necessary to edit it. In the words of the Guardian's Charlie Brooker (and his entire column is magnificent):
The funeral of Stephen Gately has not yet taken place. The man hasn't been buried yet. Nevertheless, Jan Moir of the Daily Mail has already managed to dance on his grave. For money.
It has been 20 minutes since I've read her now-notorious column, and I'm still struggling to absorb the sheer scope of its hateful idiocy. It's like gazing through a horrid little window into an awesome universe of pure blockheaded spite. Spiralling galaxies of ignorance roll majestically against a backdrop of what looks like dark prejudice, dotted hither and thither with winking stars of snide innuendo.
I hope Gately's husband and family sues the hell of Daily Mail. And I hope that other advertisers follow Marks & Spencer's example and withdraw their advertising money from the Mail. It is not the first time the Daily Mail angers me (in fact, you could set your clock by how often I feel personally insulted) but this is truly gobsmacking vicious.
Ah, a blog entry which is all over the place. And all I meant to say was that I really do love my new top and that I'm knitting a lot at the moment. The fact that this turned into a bit of a rant should give you a clue as to how stressed I am.
Pax.
Self-Awareness is Good, Right?
At times our Domestic Bliss feels a lot like this cartoon:
