Unofficial Go-Ahead? Maybe…

Hello loves,

Here’s an overdue update… I dedicate it to Monica because without her, there would be no knitted tree penis.

I know it’s been a while.  But, to make up for the delay, I’ve got a few things to make this update worth the wait.

First, here’s me!  http://www.castanet.net/events/details/14508.  Cool, hey?

In guerrilla knitting news, here’s a picture of one little knitification that I did last night.  It’s just a little post cozy, but it’s red and so it deserves attention.  I don’t know what else to say on that but that it’s red.

So here’s something fun.  Last night at stitch n bitch, we, us ladies, were all happily stitching away on our various projects, enjoying our fancywork and bitching about all manner of interesting topics (did you know there’s a place in Kentucky called Penile? Yes there is.)  So as we were sitting there on the bench, on the group W bench, a lady came over and said to us “Hey guys, I really love the guerrilla knitting!  Keep it up!  I’m with the Community Policing Unit and we all just love it!  And so do the bylaw officers!  We just all get a hoot out of it…  The only one we really *had* to take down was the penis one, and mostly just because we got some complaints, but I think it was because the grandpa who complained was jealous…”  We were laughing and I felt justified, and I’m pretty sure she was right about the grandpa being jealous because that tree is pretty well hung.  Ironically, when they took the pink penis cozy down, they left the tree’s woody, so it’s still pretty explicit – it just doesn’t have woollen balls anymore.  Beyond that, it has green lichen growing out of the tip, so that’s just vile.  Okaaaaay.

Big news: knitified* is going to New Zealand!  I don’t know much about NZ, but I’m researching.  So far, I know that New Zealand has sheep and sheep have wool and wool means yarn and yarn means KNITTING!  So I’m looking forward to a knitting holiday.  I want to tour sheep farms and stuff.  Maybe they have sheep shearing for tourists.

Also, since I’ll be away from my own knit knit BOOOM! stitch n bitch for 5 whole weeks (how will I live without it?) (Oh, I know, I’ll be in New Zealand), I’m going to have to crash some stitchery sessions on the other side of the planet and see if I can’t find some ladies with which to create knit graffiti.

knitified* out.

For Him and the Girls

Hello loves,

I know that I promised you grand updates filled with yarnbombs in Revelstoke and Golden and Banff. My heart aches a bit to tell you that this won’t be that kind of update. Far from excuses, I offer only explanation. Here’s the thing. The girls and I left Vernon and enjoyed a gorgeous drive to Banff listening to good music and only stopping to pee lest we arive late and miss the main event. But wait.  I’m sure I mentioned that I talked B and Meemats into accompanying me to go and see Hawksley Workman in Banff, right? So… no time for knit graffiti on the way East.

We arrived in Banff to gridlocked traffic and by the time we had camp set up we had to book it down town and over the bridge.  We arrived at the grounds about half way through Matthew Barber’s set and he was really great.  I knitted tidy little rows of Neapolitan stripes.

Then life lost all relevance as Hawksley Workman stepped on stage. He and Lonely rocked a killer set and all of a sudden my tidy rows of knitting turned spastic, spatial and special.  I think I died a little during Smoke Baby (those familiar with Elizabethan slang will know what I mean by that). INTENSE!!! Here’s the best part. Afterward, I got to have a few words with the man through a chain-link fence (on which I subsequently placed the only piece of knit graffiti I accomplished over the weekend during the Spirit of the West set – more on that later) and I was standing thisclose thisfuckingclose to him.  

This is how it happened: We all three of us were walking past and saw him behind the stage so I went over to the fence and shouted “Hawksley!” Then he looks over and sees me so I say “I love you!” to which he smiles, laughs a bit, then starts walking over! In my head, I’m kinda like, fuck, I didn’t plan past I love you…  He asked me what I thought of the set, actually asked if I thought it was okay, which I did (I think I might have maybe used the word orgasmic). Anyway, he was very cool to come say hi and was totally open to a quick chat and I really hope I didn’t seem too mental about the whole situation, but I’m reasonably certain I did. He’s got mad sex appeal.  Oh dear!

Blah blah blah.  Anyway, after this, I was a bit too dazed and out of it to concentrate on putting up tags, but I did one little one and gave up.  During Spirit of the West, which was rad, I snuck over and put it on the fence. And got a big fat parking ticket.

The rest of the trip was spent beating prohibition… we were rum runners. Bootleggers.  Regular Habana Joes.  We were pretty burnt out for the drive back.  Meemats and B alternated between sleep and waking and I kept the music on so I could sing myself awake.  It was a crazy 36 hours.

SOAPBOX:
Oh yea, and guess what.  I totally got judged by non-knitters!  This is great (note implicit sarcasm).
So, just as we sat down on the lawn at the front of the stage, we moved in just behind/beside this group of trendies.  One of them turned around to see who sat down as I was pulling out my knitting.  She raises her eyebrows and leans over to her friend, whispers in her ear, they both look back at me and the friend  mouths the words, “Oh. My. God.”  And then they laugh at me.  I’m SOOOOO unbearably un-cool!  Please tell me how to be!

This is the best part: the chick that realised that somebody would do something as loser-ish as make art in public was wearing, wait for it, boots made of knitted fabric.  Yes.  It’s cool to wear fashion made in the sweatshops of Bangladesh, but not cool to make it yourself (fuck-heads).  God forbid we give up consumerism!  People, curb your creative urges!  Don’t express yourself artistically!  Clearly, this is a threat for some people. What kind of world would we live in if we all made it ourselves, or got someone we knew to make it for us?  Probably a better one.  I pick that one, thank you very much.

Lastly, my focus for the next few weeks is to get my Persephone shell completed and then make some progress on my Stompin Tom Connors portrait.  Because I haven’t touched either in weeks.

knitified* out.

From knitified* with love…

Hello loves,

This is a late update, I know.  I got back from Castlegar fully 5 days ago.  So all apologies for my tardiness.  Please accept this entry with all of its pictures.  Before I get into last weekend, let me drop in a pic from the Vernon Morning Star.  Hey look!  There’s me!!!  Clearly, the arts editor in Vernon knows what’s cool.

On to last weekend… I drove down from Vermin on 6 through Coldsore, Lumpy, Cherrypit to New Denver then headed south through the Slocan Valley.  Know what I love most about Hwy 6? The highway sixyness of it. Gorgeous drive.  Phenomenally beautiful. Curves that don’t quit. 

Castlegar was lovely, though I didn’t spend much time there.  And I didn’t actually even get to yarnbomb in city limits.  I really only got to spend about an hour in the park by the river with takeout from the local Indian restaurant (can’t recall the name) which was okay (6/10) and had overwhelmingly huge portions.  Anyway, pretty park.  There was a wedding on the other side of the river and I could hear everything that was going on and that was fun.  But this was all in the early evening, so everything was closed and so there wasn’t much bumming around to be done.   The closest I got was the rest area that overlooks Ootischenia and Castlegar on the Crowsnest Hwy 3.  I think it turned out well.  I like how the cable knit looks when it’s stretched over the metal pole.  There were some Dutch tourists in an RV who were watching me put this one up and though I couldn’t understand much of what was being said between them, I did catch a bit and I think they were confused by the whole process.

In Nelson, which is ever so lovely this time of year and crawling with people, of all the knits I had at my disposal, only one of them fit anything.  As a result, Nelson just got this little purple one.  It’s not down town, but in the park near the big orange bridge.  It always surprises me how big and orange that bridge really is.  The park was really busy and the day was warm and I bummed around town for about 4 hours before I went for a scenic drive through Ymir, Salmo and back to Castlegar. 

On Sunday I drove back home on 31 to Kaslo which stole my heart and my breath as it does everytime I visit.  Even on a Sunday with everything closed, Kaslo was super busy and I was starving so I didn’t stay long.  I didn’t get to knitify anything, but next time for sure.  When I left town on 31A, I had half a mind to head north to Shutty Bench (just for shits and giggles) but I didn’t.  Instead, I drove up the hill out of town and about half way to Retallack (which is about half way between New Denver and Kaslo – it’s where those old school house looking buildings are) I found a pullout with a metal post beggin’ to be cozied.  So I did.  Passing traffic was minimal, but those that did pass gave me all sorts of weird looks as they rubbernecked their ways past me.  Squares. 

My last stop was in New Denver which is a super cute place and I had lunch at the only place in town that was open, the Panini (which has good food by I hate going there because it’s one of those places that has a huge list of rules that don’t come off as cutesy but a bit dictator-like and which I find stupid and also because everytime i go in there, the woman that runs the place is being a horrible boss to the young people she has working for her).  So I took my food to go and went to sit on the beach.  There I found a walking stick.  So I knitified it and planted it in the water.  That’s Slocan lake and the Valhalla park mountains in the distance. 

From New Denver I booked it home and had a rather traumatising experience involving my car and a robin.  I stopped, cried a bit and then the rain started and, in the deluge that followed, washed everything away.  Which is good because it was very messy and without getting into detail there is no way I would’ve had enough washer fluid.  I’ve never killed an animal in my car before and I now know it’s a very violent and graphic way for a little birdy to die.  I’m sorry little robin. 

Lastly, tomorrow morning I’m heading out to Banff to go see Hawksley Workman with my ladies B and Meemats.  I promise I’ll behave.  He’s just the hottest man on the planet.  Oh dear god.

knitified* out.