A gem of a book: Felicity Ford's KNITSONIK Stranded Colourwork Sourcebook

Yarn (and fiber) interlude "Sugar-coating the cruel world of wool!"

A gem of a book: Felicity Ford's KNITSONIK Stranded Colourwork Sourcebook

Having met Felicity Ford and also watched her in action at Shetland Wool Week last fall, I was predisposed to like the book that she had just embarked on making. That book has just become available (in both print and electronic formats). Backing Felicity’s Kickstarter for the book didn't require any thought at all. I knew what she would make would be worthwhile, and worth having, because Felicity is one of the most creative and intelligent people I’ve ever met (plus one of the most unpretentious).

While I have access to a bunch of high-quality photos related to the book project, I’m going to season this post with photos I’ve taken. Trust me that every production value in Felicity's project is top-notch. The reason I want to use my photos is to represent the way my conversations with Felicity—in person and now in her book—have, even when tangentially experienced, enriched the light and color and ideas in my life.

I knew I’d like The KNITSONIK Stranded Colourwork Sourcebook. I didn’t expect to love it and to be inclined to take it everywhere with me.

The printed book has a generous but not bulky page size; has been printed on high-quality paper; and is slim enough to tuck into my backpack next to my computer (the comparatively small backpack already containing that computer, the projector, the cables, my books, travel food and utensils, my 3-1-1 bag, and a novel). When I began to dip into it, I discovered that it is also, Tardis-like, bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, and it provided me with enjoyable reading and discoveries while I traveled—and because I was teaching for the two-week trip, I only had a few moments in which to sample a few of the pages.

The book has been traveling with me, and we both met up with friends.

Nonetheless, it influenced how I went through my days.

One of the things the book is about is paying attention to what’s around us, and what we care about.

I practice this anyway (practice, which means improvement is always possible), and Felicity’s book tweaked my viewpoint in ways that I enjoyed. During teaching weeks, I like to take solo walks to refresh myself and my thoughts, preferably in quiet places full of plants and animals and views. Often I take photos. As I took this week’s walks, I found myself taking different photos than usual, and thinking differently about how I might use those images not as ends in themselves or simple aids to paying attention but as inspiration for Fair Isle–style knitting.

One or two pages before bed gave me plenty to ponder overnight and on the next day’s hike. I could actually spend a week, or a month, on every cluster of concepts. Pacing can fit the available contours of time. There’s lots here: it’s clearly and concisely presented. On pages that I found myself wanting to linger over.

Another thing Felicity encourages is trying things, and making mistakes—those being (as many of us have discovered repeatedly) good ways to learn what works.

The intent of the book is to help us take things we love and learn enough about their shapes and colors, and about interpretation, to use those treasures as inspiration for knitting. Step by step, she leads us through the process, with philosophy and progressive examples, in ways that I’m guessing even the most tentative designer (or not-yet-designer) will find supportive and effective.

Colo(u)r. I have to mention color because many people find it intimidating. The way Felicity works with color here, and shows the reader her process in detail, will be a blessing to many.

Here’s what just carrying the book around with me last week and reading a few pages at night produced in my life:

Waiting for the ferry in Anacortes, Washington: walking around and enjoying the day.

Sunset from the top of Young Hill, San Juan Island.

English Camp, San Juan Island, the windy day when I walked the shore instead of the woods.

English Camp, San Juan Island.

American Camp, San Juan Island.

South Beach, San Juan Island.

English Camp, San Juan Island.

Sunset from Young Hill, San Juan Island.

Madrona tree.

South Beach, San Juan Island.

Driftwood at South Beach, San Juan Island.

Dawn from the early ferry.

Ferry coming into the Anacortes dock. My car was #1.

As I was pulling those photos, I found some others on the computer that also seem to warrant contemplation. Here's just one, from Iceland. It would be interesting to extract some patterns and colors from this and see what happened.