Resistance (to casting on) Is Futile

Things have been interesting lately.

On July 9, I had my plastic bag dress with the hyperbolic crochet skirt in a Trashion Show in Long Beach. The runway style show was the culmination of a month’s long series of free local workshops for transforming discarded materials into wearable art, led by Amy Bauer.

Dress made of plastic bags with a ruffled skirt and bright pink bodice.
Post Consumer Content

A documentary about the project and show has been produced, my friend, Helene, is going with me to the premier this coming Friday (cue the moans and groans about driving to Long Beach on a Friday at 5:00 pm. Even now, 7:41 on a Sunday evening, route guidance says it will take 1 hour & 6 minutes to get there.)

Anyway, Amy asked if I was going to be submitting Post Consumer Content to the Wearable show at The Makery in DTLA. I didn’t know about it, and I wondered if the age of the work (12 years) mattered. Links and emails were exchanged so I could ask the head of The Makery that question. And, (because the idea factory never sleeps), faster than an email can be received and answered, I had conceived a whole new plastic-surplus-materials outfit. The submission deadline was August 1, so I got to work on a new hyperbolic crochet skirt and crochet lace top. I figured I would enter two outfits in the show and wouldn’t that be fun.

Bright Shiny Plastic

I decided to make the new skirt out of leftover sparkly yarns because those sparkles are plastic and they release microplastics into the environment. Most of my bag of sparklies are surplus I brought home from the clearing out of some studio or other. A couple are cones I actually bought, for what purpose I don’t remember now.

It was mid-July, with the August 1st deadline far away, when the other yarns in my stash began to sing to me. I had already put the turquoise Zombie Yarn pullover on hold. June gloom had ended, a high pressure system settled over the Colorado Plateau, the on-shore flow was staying off-shore and it had turned fully hot enough to take the quilt off the bed. A winter pullover would wait. Over a couple of days I started a sample of a Granny Hexagon Cardi with the goal of producing a tutorial and written pattern, a cotton heart that will be the center of a free-form tee. Then I took the two skeins of hot pink, plastic mesh, Jelly yarn I bought in Martinez on the BAYC with me to NorCal on our visit to our daughter.

Sometimes resistance to casting on is futile. Question for crocheters: do you call it casting on when you start a project? I do, but is that just because I also knit?

Bright pink Cell phone pouch
“Jelly Pop Yarn” from Busywork in Martinez, CA

When we got back from the Bay Area, I had to refocus on the new outfit so I could photograph it for the entry. While we were at our daughter’s, I got a phone call from an art center in Colorado that I had submitted Post Consumer Content to a wearable art show in (which I had sort-of forgotten about). Not only did they want PCC, they also liked my plastic trash work and wanted several pieces for an exhibit in the lobby area of their performance space. Now I’m really glad I started the new outfit, which was accepted into The Makery show.

I also have rented some of my older woven wall pieces to a TV show for their set – its Criminal Minds, episode 1 of season 18. It’s been an interesting couple of weeks.

A few days ago, as I packed up the work to go to Colorado, I thought I would wrap one of the wall hangings in a piece of fabric to protect it in the box. I pulled out an old piece that was the right size, but it was very frayed on the edges, and needed to be overlocked. The thread broke after overlocking about 4”, so typical.

It was the bottom looper, the hardest of the needles to thread. To thread it I would need a threading wire out of the little drawer under the sewing machine table. And that was blocked by my Baby Wolf loom, that sits folded up, next to the machine. I made multiple attempts to thread the looper without the wire, even though I know better. That bottom looper is why threading wires exist.

I finally wrestled the loom out of its spot and into the middle of the room. I got the wire, threaded the machine, and overlocked the fabric that I didn’t end up using for the purpose I had wanted it for…

Now, you must imagine this all taking place over probably an hour and a half. Those who know me can imagine also the words and sounds that would have scared the dog, had one been here (poor Coal, poor Zoe, Clancy wouldn’t have cared). It was only a very small leap to thoughts of ending it all – I mean, “maybe its time to get rid of this thing.”

That first thought was for the overlock machine, but no, that emotional attachment is too deep. Then when I realized I was moving the loom merely to get to the little tool drawer, that the warp from my Handwoven project from 2017 was still on the loom, and I hadn’t touched it in seven years. Even when I did the project for the Handwoven article, I hadn’t woven in many years.

A weaving project on a loom
The last project

I decided I should weave off the warp and sell the loom. I pulled the loom out and wove off the warp, finished it Friday evening. I’ve told a couple of people I had a “time to downsize” revelation. I also decided I should liquidate all the weaving tools and equipment, get rid of it all. I don’t want to donate it; I do want to get some money for it.

I’ve had some second thoughts. But no, it’s barely a question. The last woven art piece I made was in 2012. Nothing woven has appeared on my annual challenges since I started writing them. My Five-Year Plan doesn’t mention weaving. In my very few sketches and notes on artworks I want to make, none of them are woven. Yes, over the past several years, thoughts of woven pieces have crossed my mind, but none of them made it onto any lists.

I long to knit, to crochet. I long to coil sculptures and wall pieces. I don’t long to weave.

It will be a process. I will want to pull out all the weaving things, inventory them, and price them. I’ve thought about getting a booth at WeFF, which is November 3rd. I like this idea for the smaller things. I can post the Baby Wolf for sale within a few days.

It is with some sadness, only a little sadness. It fits with the larger goal of Swedish Death Cleaning – Judy and I decided to call it Crafter Death Cleaning. Deaquisitioning my entire weaving tool and equipment collection will be a huge step toward the grand scheme of Not Leaving a Huge Mess for My Kids to Deal With.

This will be continued. 

By Julie Kornblum

Julie grew up surrounded by fiber arts. Her earliest memories are her mother sewing. Her grandmother knit and crocheted and taught her to crochet during a summer visit to her family’s hometown in Pennsylvania. When learneing to sew in Junior High, it was like she was born to do it. She explored embroidery, crochet, macramé, batik. Coming to LA at age twenty, her only real skill was sewing, which led to the Fashion Design program at Los Angeles Trade Technical College and being a pattern maker in the garment industry. Marriage and children followed. Julie taught Fashion Design at Otis College of Art and Design for seven years while completing her BA in Art at California State University Northridge. Julie has exhibited widely, has been published in books and magazines, curated art exhibitions, and coordinated large public yarnbombing projects. She often speaks about the plastic pollution crisis that informs her work.