Colours are like children. You learn, for example, never to leave young Cedric alone with little Jessica, because they won’t play nicely unless maybe you’ve also got sweet Timmy there to provide a soothing influence on both of them.
But things can turn unpredictable in a heartbeat. Dear Hieronymus and Maud are usually a delightful combination, but add Bob into the mix and – WHAM! – all three start swinging from the chandeliers and behaving monstrously.
As it is with children, so it is with colours. They never exist entirely alone: there is always a context, and that affects how we see them.
Just in case you’re wondering, this post is about a skirt that I’m designing for the book. All began well enough, and the actual knitting started so well that I began to get smug. Let me tell you that when that happens, the universe always shows up to slap me round the face with the cold wet kipper of reason. Every. Single. Time.
As I worked my way optimistically downwards from waistband in the direction of hem, I noticed that colours which combined charmingly near the top mixed badly with the muddier shades that I introduced lower down. This photo looks a lot better than the reality:-
That pale cream was so gentle and calm at first, but appeared harsh and glaring against more muted shades. *sigh*
It was never going to work. Radical surgery was required. Don’t worry; the surgeon was mildly anesthetized with wine throughout the procedure, so she didn’t feel a thing.
And that, my Fine Fibrous Friends, is why I’m currently sitting beside three separate portions of skirt, contemplating the final stages of re-knitting and grafting.
I’d planned just to remove the palest cream, but once I’d done that, the pink that had previously looked delightfully dusky started seeming sickly sweet, so I swapped that out, too.
And now I’m scared that I’ve started a process that will end several years and layers of sanity from now, right back where I began, and after very, very, many attempted substitutions of colour. Did I mention *sigh*?
The plan is that once the skirt has been thoroughly chopped, and swapped, and chopped some more, I’ll graft the pieces back together, and you’ll never guess that it wasn’t perfect right from the beginning. I might even start getting smug. What could possibly go wrong?!
Shucks. I’d have worn that skirt like I owned it. Like I made it! I do see whoever you’re coming from though. I still like it! Girl, you’re good.
Awww, thank you. I’m blushing! But you know when you realize that something isn’t quite right and will always bug you? It’s that feeling.
Wow! What *patience” ! Respect. Colours certainly are tricky little devils. Using as many as you are for the skirt, their juxtaposition and the effects they produce, changes constantly. I’m sure you will like it in the end. I’m just in awe of you, again. I doubt I could bear to pull it down and re-do it. Maybe having the book deal is the motivation! I might manage then.
Keep going!
Julie from Banbury
Thank you! It helps – a bit – to start out with the expectation that making this thing will probably involve knitting it three times over before it’s done. But only a bit.
So interesting to “watch” your “progress” on the skirt. I suppose that I would wind up with a cowl and give up. But YOU! Ah, you will persevere and all will be lovely. I love all your positive blogs that I have at hand.
And I love your kind words, thank you! Yes, maybe I should just quit and make this three separate cowls! Or three EXTREMELY short skirts…
I must admit, I don’t see what the problem was/is… perhaps you’re a perfectionist and I’m just not… I’d have to lose 50lbs to wear a skirt like that in any case.
Trust me, this skirt is very stretchy and covers a multitude of sins! That’s one of the reasons I like knitted skirts.
I bow down to your skill, determination and insight. Just reimagine and add perseverance to your arsenal. I love your blogs, they always make me smile. A big thank you from Michigan USA where we are expecting snow for Mother’s Day. I should be planting tomatoes and eggplant but I’m going to knit instead. We are still on stay at home orders so no visits to our Mothers and no visits from my beloved grandsons ( their parents, too). But the tulips and daffodils keep blooming.
Snow?! In May?! Wow, hope your garden doesn’t suffer too much. We’re baking in unseasonal heat here. I’m sorry that you won’t be able to spend Mother’s Day with family, though. Next year will, I hope, be very different. Best wishes from across the Atlantic.
Oh my goodness! If I had designed and knitted a skirt that looked like that, I would be SO proud and nothing, but nothing would convince me that it should be re-worked.
You continue to be such a delight. Thank you.
You are very, very, very, very, very, very kind. Much kinder than I deserve, but thank you anyway.
Well you are one brave woman! That takes guts to take that skirt apart! Respect!
Guts… or maybe stupidity. Time will tell!
The skirt was beautiful but I understand the need to make it just the way you envision it. That being said, I gasped at what looked like a crime scene!!
???????????? at the crime scene comment! Now you mention it, I see what you mean!
When my mom gave my goldie a hedgehog stuffie, I woke up to something similar. Head and guts everywhere! 🙂
Nice to know that even the best of knitters occasionally has to butcher a garment! I was wondering if this scenario would end if I become more experienced. It looks as if it won’t! I guess the quest for perfection is eternal. Love your blog – it really cheers me up reading it. Found you in Simply Knitting magazine X
Awww, thanks Lizzy, you’re very kind! And believe me, it’s WAY more than occasionally that I butcher a garment!!
I love the revised colour plan – but I’m a bit concerned that your wine account might leave you a bot short for your next yarn purchase! If I had a hat on I’d take it off to you 😉
Don’t worry, the wine account and the yarn account are both TOP PRIORITY! Who needs to eat, anyway?!
Wow … this skirt is stunning … i cant wait for your book to be published!
Thank you! (I’d better get on with writing it then!)
Aaaarrrggh! I feel your pain. Thought it looked pretty good, actually, but do see what you mean.
I’m still contemplating taking an inch or so out of the top of the sleeves of a ** I knitted for DH. I made the sleeves for my length of arm, knowing full well that his are shorter. Consequently the elbow bits are always too low.
MUST take out some of the upper arm section. #Ihategrafting #toeupsocksforme_always
Yup, I hear you. But if you know that a thing will always and forever bug you, then it’s time to take a deep breath and reach for the scissors. Good luck.
Respect! I don’t think it was that bad but I know what you mean. if its jarring to YOUR eye, then better to rectify it. I just knitted my coronavirus anxiety sweater and made much the same discovery: a thin band of pink which grates my teeth…BUT, no way was I going to go back on it! Lifes too short, even during lockdown in spain! Thanks for your blog, always makes me smile.
Yeah, it’s definitely worth weighing up how much something is going to bug you. I bet your sweater is gorgeous, though! Thank you for your kind words.
Wow! Didn’t know this was a thing. I use Kitchener for socks, is this another of it’s uses? Didn’t you know – the organza bags you get your wool in are for moments like this? Then you stuff it behind your sofa. Love your perseverance
???????????????? re the organza bags: I so agree! And yes, this is another use for kitchener, unfortunately.
All I can say is what a beautiful garment! I do see the color differences you referred to but the overall was really really good. I dont know how you took it apart in sections the way you did, I must research that process, I’ve always ripped it out and started over. I will be looking for your book., your work is new to me, but I will be following you here out.
Thank you for such a kind and thoughtful comment! I took the work apart by inserting an extra needle in one row, then cutting a stitch in the middle of the first row I wanted to remove, then pulling out that whole row.
I just love your work, and your blog. Thank you.
And I just love your kind comment. Thank you.
Thought about? 1. a sharply-focused photo, 2. Enlarge the photo, 3.cut the photo at each color block, arrange and re-arrange photo slices till you have your skirt where you like it.
???????????? I LIKE your thinking!
I love your commitment to making the skirt the way you imagined it to be. I’m just fascinated at how you are fixing it! That amazes me me more than anything. I can’t wait to see the finished skirt in the new colors. And I’ll remember that technique of how to redo a section without ripping out the whole thing! So impressed!
Thank you! It may yet all go horribly wrong…
Hi
That’s a really interesting post about our perception of colour.
I’m making a wrap with a multi coloured yarn most of which is in greens, blues and greys. BUT there’s also a pink which, to me, throws out the whole palette. I’ll finish it as it is but that pink will always be shouting at me!
Good luck with your skirt.
Wanda
Your pattern is gorgeous! I can see what you mean about the colours though. It’s those pesky warm yellow based greens not sitting happily with the lovely cool turquisey greens. I wouldn’t trust them to play nicely for a moment. But I love it that you’ve bravely taken it to pieces to make it right. And presumably you’ve made yourself a couple of gorgeous snoods out of the remnants!
Oh my and darn. What a dare devil you are. It didn’t look good but I would have thrown it in the corner with the rest of the no goods. It could have been done with a dark grey, as the brown is a tertaire colour it was not fitting with the other secundair ones that are mixed with white. Difficult is it. Hope the yarn brand has a nice colour that does fit in. One can mush around with colours but the brand has to have them eh. Good luck.
I NEVER RECEIVED THIS POST !! When I began reading (with joy !) your latest, I was more than somewhat puzzled .. which led me to follow the bottom link to your previous, and here I am. It is very dispiriting, Phil, to know that The Invisies will do this to me, every so often – I’m hoping that means ‘once in a lifetime’ – this summary exclusion from your distribution list. 🙁
Anyway.
Did you STEEK ? Is that what you did ? If so, you are even braver than I thought ! But then .. it’s probably just that you know so much about knitting that steeking, for you, brings no fear at all. Yes, that would be it.
Your colourwork is mind-blowing. But I hope the book will not be entirely filled with it; for then there would be only the pleasure of looking at and admiring your work without possibility of actually carrying any of it out.
I live this skirt! Your colourwork is truly inspiring. I have been knitting and crocheting for nearly 40 years (OMG that scares me to put that number!) But knitted colourwork is something I definitely need more practice with.
Wow! This is incredible dedication of you to not simply unpick a few stitches/rows, but actually replace a colour! I’ve just followed you as I can already tell that your blog is really interesting. Your knits are very intricate and beautiful. Good luck with the book. ????
Thank you! I’ve learned the hard way that in knitting, it’s never worth ignoring things that you know in your heart are wrong. It’s taken a long time to accept that ripping back and reknitting several times is part of almost every design process, but it’s getting easier.