Zombie sees blue poles and a walk in the sculpture garden

Way back in 1973, our government bought a painting.
Gough_Whitlam was the 21st prime minister. He had radical
socially progressive ideas and ruffled alot of conservative feathers.

Feathers hit the fan when he decided to buy a Jackson Pollock painting.
It was the most Australia had ever paid for a painting
and it didn't even have a nice picture of a lady on it.

There was such a kerfuffel.

In the end they threw Gough out in a very controversial
dismissal, but they kept Blue Poles.
No Zombie, this isn't it.

Zombie says he has always liked Henry Moore.
There is something about seeing art "in the flesh".
Henry Moore has two pieces gracing the bush setting of the sculpture garden.
The lines are organic, feminine and erotic.

There are ten indigenous women from Alice Springs here making beanies.
You can sit all day with them and crochet or learn to spin
by hand from these remarkable elders.

They are from Arangu country, speak no English, but
yarn transcends such things.
This is the essence of knit.
One has no need to speak, the synchronicity of our repeated actions
join us, loop, yarn over, hook..

These guys are some of the Burghers of Calais, getting ready
to go to the enemy camp and be heroic.
They stand on the pavement, just like people.
This morning they sport beanies.
Not sure if Rodin would like it, but he was also controversial
at the time of making this sculpture,
so maybe he would not mind.

I came across this and it's too good not to snap.
They were gone by lunch time.
Some art is fleeting.
Some endures.

Poles are being warmed all over the garden and
my heart is warmed by the sight.
Children run up to each to exclaim,
investigate and caress.

The first pole goes up.
Each day, people arrive to see if their knits have made it
on to the poles. Some come to help stitch the long pieces
end to end ready to wrap, others unpack and tag.

Some are so high up.
We have over 500 knits here.
500 or more pairs of hands have created this work.

And there is more to come.

Day One with Knitta Please

The grrl, the zombie, the stick and a mountain of wool arrived
in the nation's capital and were greeted with this:

The world was Magda's oyster.

It watched over her to bless the 27 knitted bollards
and Alexander Calder's sculpture.

I honed my installation skills under the tutelage of Dan,
Magda's architect trained partner, and watched
people touch the bollards in wonderment.

The stage of the theatre was a carpet of knitted strips.
This photo was when the volunteers
had stitched most of it into
large soft rolls of woolly sushi.
Some were too gorgeous to even hit the floor
and became scarves for the day.

David refused to surrender the venus de milo knit.


Everyone pitched in to help.
There was much tagging, arranging, admiring, touching.

And the bags kept coming.
The zombie helped.
So did the stick.

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go

Elin is making sure we all know where she is from

as the deadline closes on knitups
for the National Gallery.

Joan hasn't got a website, or a blog,
but she has knitting needles.
She sent her piece from Koonakoola WA

A couple months ago, I had the pleasure of attending a week long
knitting class with Jenny Dowde and Lynne Johnson, Jenny is
a freeform Queen, and a woman after my own heart.
She is not interested in patterns but
prefers to take her yarn for a walk
Lynne has expert knowledge on all loopy things
and is definitely a woman of fibre.
Jenny sent the yellow piece in to prepare for
my August project,
The Knitted Convenience.

And just before the car is stuffed
with knitting, yarn, pajamas, champagne,
a green zombie and a stick;

Yesterday I went on air to talk about being a guerilla
in a Gallery, and a toilet.
Do you think Jay Katz is feeling the love?

His wig is a free pattern Ravelry, very cool,
but a tad hard to work out.

See you in Australia's Capital City.

even more

Enchanted curious created a mongrel mix of texture and color.

Ro Bruhn must knit the colors of her aura, in fact I have a suspicion that most people do.

Nic took me by the sea. Cool cotton, and a mix of neutral to rest the eyes.
Maybe there will be an
undersea column for the mer folk.

Beth Fedigen put lots of texture in hers...

And this diamond one reminds me of a snake..

I think of pastel colored tiny candies when I look at Janeen's work..

Robyn Love knitted a mile, then laid it out for people to walk it.. you have to see this.

We get just over a metre here to play with.

Sometimes big is better, a fuchsia fest by fyrewitch is bloody huge!

After just mastering the wonkiest cable knit

ever, I am in awe of Vicki 's orange cables

Margaret is a friend who gets me into trouble.
She incites me to mischief, and her knit looked like a giant lolly.

We have a lost sheep... no tag.

Will somebody claim her?

You mean it's actually knitted??

This woman is a mermaid,
I swear. Nikki must have lived underwater, binding shells and
driftwood to the fabric , weaving ocean tulle and catching
small watery treasures with her net.

Yes it is actually knitted!
The piece is 12 inches square, framed by driftwood, and will
be tied onto the pole
with long strips of seaweed style net.

Nikki gets "mer"bling.

Lets see if knitting isn't art now!

How many plastic bags are saved from the tip here?

Bags are great because they hold their color well, are sturdy,
and look very inviting. People touch it to figure out
what the knit is made of.

Elizabeth said she size 15 needles and
no walmart bags were used in this creation.

There is a very groovy chick that tells you how to make
plastic bag yarn here, and even if you never want to,
her site gives me gooseflesh.

For a more mathematical way, go here and get into the knitty gritty.

Cathy Kasdan transformed plastic grocery bags into a 1950's Outfit.
She is influenced by the lack of societal concern for the
use and abuse of material.
Her website is another good chunk of eye candy.

Meanwhile knitters are choosing their bling, and the rest
is being sent to the National Gallery for sale in their shop.

There is a creeping feeling I may have overlooked
some gorgeous ones in the rush.
Have I emailed you to let you know it has come
and to ask you what bling you want?

Please let me know by including your bling choice,
your address to mail it to, your blog address so
I can include it in the photos.

Choose your bling here.

See what leapt out of the post bag?
A knit zombie from madly creative.

He probably eats the stuffing brains out of
the other toys at night.

The knits are arriving thick and fast.
Some are heavy with treasure, like the packet opened this morning.

The knits are snuggled together like old friends on the sofa.
Each piece sings of it's creation and they become a chorus of happy sounds.
Hound gets in close to glean the higher notes,
but he is not allowed to sit on them.

There was the pink green chick's pink and green knit.

She makes great blackberries too.

Swedish grrl Mia sent in a crochet piece with yarn so fine it
feels like silk. The fabric is fine and
slips over my skin.

If Mondrian was a knitter, this would be his creation.
Denise knits without needles, but made an amazing
exception this time.
I love the gap of space within the design.

knittygraffity out did herself, look at this intarsia! It is her signature style.
Looks like more sock yarn.

mmmmm.

A field of lialacs is Jacky 's offering.
She is a generous and multi faceted grrl.
She makes fantastic Klimt dolls too.

There is STILL time.
Aussie knitters, you have till July 5th if you still want to be in.

Know as well there is another project coming..
got any yellow wool?

Surviving loss

Gone.
Less than 20 hours of wooly life.

I stared in disbelief while Dad chuckled.
Gone.

I could get all zen about the ephemeral nature of knit ups
and the release of ownership once it leaves my hands
to enter the public domain.

I could even wax lyrically Buddhist about impermanence, and that
to embrace change is the only way to view life.

I could bend like the willow in the face of the wind.

Truth is I was pissed off.

That's one of the recovery steps isn't it?
Denial and disbelief.
Then get pissed off.
Then get revenge.

I'm sure of it.

This grrl has the right idea.
Solidarity.
Even the mangy condom has remained on her fist.
Some graffiti artist's work has lasted longer than mine.

Like another wise person once said, "Don't get mad, get even."

So slide grrl got some leg warmers.

The sculptor is John Dowie, maker of some fine Adelaide public
art pieces and my favourite since a child, Alice .

I smiled for the security cameras.

And watched people smile and point as they walked past.

Asians seemed to possess the finer levels of appreciation for quirky.

A gentleman who actually knew John Dowie stopped to share stories of the artist.

In case any Adelaide geurillas want to keep her warm too I have the measurements.

Slide Grrl's leg Warmers:

Cast on 18 stitches on 4mm needles.
Knit a 2x2 rib for 6 rows.
Change to stockinette.
Work in the stripes of your choice while gradually increasing to 35 stitches
Over approximately a 13 cm length.
Make the last 6 rows a 2x2 rib for the top end of her legwarmer.

And dont forget to smile for the camera.

locked and loaded in Adelaide

Adelaide is my home town, but don't force me to admit it too often.
This week it is looking verdant and cold as I reconnoiter the mall
looking for likely guerrilla targets.


Anyone introducing a new product to the country tests it here.
Adelaidians are fairly impervious to marketing tricks and remain
un- seducable to the next new thing. The multitude of mullets and root perms
attest to this. If it sells in Adelaide it will sell anywhere.

The mid winter solstice is cold and I have not felt my toes
for two hours. I am punishing my father for
not turning up the heating at home and he is now enlisted.
He is lookout and camera operator. He isn't too sure about this
and his eyes are swiveling about his head.
I have to give him a stern look.

Adelaidians studiously ignore me, except for one guy with a
camera who swears he isn't a creep. He lends an air of credibility
to the stitching, and my father looks relieved.

Nearby are the famous silver balls - affectionately known
as the Malls' Balls, by sculptor Bert Flugleman, Bert is
into shiny big curvy things
and I get to kit a cover for one of his pieces
in Wollongong in November.

Guerilla knitting..... it's 2009's answer to the pet rock.
It's all just a flash in the pan, really.
As father explains, the term comes from the old muzzle loading,
flint lock rifles. He makes them from scratch, you see.

When dad slides the 1851 barrel into his intricately carved stock,
you can hear the air whooshing out. To hold this gun is to
wonder how anyone could have survived any war.

And to fire it....

well..

A muzzle loader requires a small amount of gunpowder to lie
in the "pan" while a flint is snapped over it and creates a spark.

You get the term "bright spark" for this as well.

If all goes well, the flint scratches light into gunpowder, whooshes down
the barrel and you have a shot fired. Many times however it fails,
where by there is a spark of hope but little result.
Hence, "flash in the pan".

Now Dad, let's go home, cut loose and put in another light bulb so I can
actually see what I am knitting and have the heat on enough so beanie wearing
is not essential indoors, or I'll punish you
again by cleaning the pantry.

A Rundle Mall knit up with accomplice, lock stock and barrel.

Ignore Everybody

Coming in at #5 on the great list of stuff white people like
is the Farmer's market.

This list could very well be the middle class guide
to all there is. I seem to be doing well.
I own three moleskines, (#122) and at the Farmer's Market
I sketched in one of them while enjoying my fair trade coffee (#1)
Breakfast was a tomato gallette (#63) topped precariously with organic goat cheese.

Later it was off to yoga,(#15) but only after spending $23.00 on
some designer mushrooms that had authentic dirt
and pine needles on them. (#48)

This week it is a visit to my favourite Asian fusion restaurant,
and maybe a sample of the new green teas in at T2. (#13)

Recycling (#64) is a fine art in our house hold and woe betide anyone
who puts the three triangle plastic in the two triangle box.
We may even get solar hot water this year.

When red wine was spilled in the last post, it was the fine
red salt from the dead sea that came to the rescue. #119

So naturally the rusty, old train centre that was a junkie's metropolis
of cement warrens and industrial machinery is now an
upcycled chic gallery space and the weekly farmer's markets.

It had to be tagged.

Because, you know, white people like to knit.
Scarf wearing rates white at #97

After they browse the bookstores or drop into the bike shop
on a weekend, it's a visit to the wool store.
Because having time is a luxury, if you can knit,
you are wealthy in time,
and that needs to be paraded.

White people love to give to charity.
It justifies spending all that other money, and if they knit,
it has to be done for a worthy cause.

Apparently women's work still exists in
the third wave of feminism.

One could never imagine knitting something just for the sheer hedonism of it.
Just for the fun.
And never ever entertain the idea of discarding it when done.
What? Throw it out?
What recycling box would it go in anyway?
Organic?

Fair trade?

It goes against the very grain of our culture and programming
to imagine knitting without a cause.
Pointless knitting.
This was one reason
the World War One poster was chosen for the promotion.
We are so ingrained to see the value of knit.

At the Soft Sculpture Exhibition at the National Gallery, queries
about the knit installations' future have arisen, as if
the knits had a future beyond being an art form on a pole.

Well it's only knit, isn't it?
Let's not get away with ourselves here.
Too valuable to leave hanging round on poles.

Knits that some terrorized freezing cold kid in Afganistan needs
because us white folk are bombing
the crap out of her country
.. or ...well.. no..did I say that??

I'm offended. Congratulations, tick #101

Time for some guidance:

stick by Ms Artsparker has a walk on appearance here, and is scheduled for an upcoming major role.

His cartoons bring perspective back . I hope you enjoy them too.

Like a lion dragging home a wildebeest in his maw, the gorgeous one
dropped news of his first work junket
triumphantly onto the dinner table.

No early adopter to office life, at 42 he entered the paper jungle to
discover first hand what not to do at staff Xmas parties and how
to move some one's cheese.
He laughs at Dilbert - highly unsettling.

Right now Gorgeous One is stalking his next session, weighed down
with conference merch, fluorescent light reflecting from his name
tag and picking over a hotel buffet.

Which leaves me comfortable on the couch knitting an act of love.
If chewing relaxes dogs, knitting is a big marrow laden bone.

The divinely fine merino selected to reflect his eyes has existed
in it's larval stage overlong. Poles have been tagged and
trees no longer feel the wind
while his neck freezes on the office commute.

It's time.

Three times it has collapsed back to four separate strands of potential; it has
inched across the country in a cotton chrysalis and soon will emerge
in glorious winter colors as a humble scarf.

It's a common species of 3x3 rib but I still make mistakes.
The wool is so soft and fine every mis-knit stands out like an antler.

I want to finish this.
I want to present it like a home prize on GO's return.

Perhaps I will tell him it's story; "Here's where Anna Karenina
threw herself under the train on TCM, and that
extra purl was when I spilled red wine
and had to leap up to hunt for salt."

see the boo boo's?

While I wait for the salt to draw on the carpet, my needles
will dance on. Old movies will play and that leftover
pumpkin soup looks pretty good right now.

this pole cozy has to wait...

The knitted wonderment from the previous post

was also created by Rosemary who is 79.

Rosemary is Christina's Mum, and they went to
lengths to create these two marvellous pieces.

This past weekend I was supposed to join Christina and several
others for bush flower champagne cocktails, baked delights
by Margaret and her cows, and create metally goodness
with exuberant Jen Crossley.
Jen has just had her work published here;

Last time the exotic bushflower cocktails transformed Jen
into a caped super hero. Her special powers were laughing, metal magic and
underpants wearing.
Good to know they managed to also warm a tree while
being ignored by Margaret's Angus bulls.

So another place I'm not doing art is here:
There is literally nowhere to set up paints and engage in my first love;
journalling.

That's right.
Missing out on rich layers of paint, patient tutoring from
someone who knows, and the lush immersion
in color and soul saturation.

I am this far (imagine a tiny gap of air between thumb and forefinger)
from sweeping all the wool it all onto the floor and have the family and dog step
over it to get to the other half of the house. Who needs
a bathroom and a kitchen
and a back yard anyway?

Waaaa! I want my layer love!

The third taleted woman I get to miss out on is Ms Moss.

stencilry courtesy of Ms Moss at Dispatch from LA

Of course you know her blog...goes without saying.
She is a monkey whisperer during the day and shakes
up some mean cocktails at night. Her in between super
power is with the camera, paper and journals.

I am so far behind in Ms. Moss's stencil class I may throw
my hands up, but in a corner of the mountain, deep in a wooly cave lie
the box of spray cans, scalpels, and
the first three lessons already done.

stencilry courtesy of Ms Moss at Dispatch from LA

Theeeyyy're coming!

Sometimes a project picks you.

It leaps to your face, encircles
your innards and leaves on it's own terms.

Christina has warm red hair and a warm friendy face.

Together with her mother, they created a meter square sampler of knit.

Renate is an accomplished free former, a scrumbler
after my own heart. Her contribution has
a pure white background that highlights
the bullions and threads couched on it.

One woman whose fingers rest gently on the pulse
of all good swaps and giveaways is Ms Intuitive. Not only
did she crochet a marvellous pink, orange and white piece,
it was ID'd with her name in yarn.

Inside an irresistible cigar box nestled more treasures; tiny bags of rocks
and shells gathered from strolls along foreign beaches, vintage linen..

but

ooh!

wait... what is this???

Knit and dogs,
you know I have to make this...

The teletubbie helmets are a total must have.
Where do the ears go?

And the collars..well I've already started..

The possum family living in the tree outside may like this.
I yearn for this book!

Unless it includes a knitted Moses clutching the ten commandments,
or a bush in yarny flames,
the bible claim could
be a stretch.
Never mind..they are

sooooo

cuuuute.

Some mornings...

sun rise in Byron Bay the day I left

Some mornings demand attention.

They shake you awake at 5:15 to breathe dawn breath,

curling their quiet coffee claws gently over your feet

and drawing them downstairs.

I leave the warm bed with the fresh sheets and

the warm body that knows my nooks and sleeps on;

I leave the feet that always find mine, knowing our skin conversations

will resume tonight. The feet that say, “I am glad you are back..all is well..”

my feet in the sand

Coming home the highway passed beneath a giant rainbow.
Its base was meters from the curb, and in my gold car
I became a leprechaun, laughing at my luck.

op shop treasures from a by gone era

It’s as if everything is reaching forward again,

extending tendrils of an imagined and dreamt of

future as the mediator of the gods flies direct. Mercury rules

over all things electronic, and his blessings arrived as emails

woken from slumber from the place emails go to sleep, their footnotes

absently entwined about each other.

I gravitiate back into my own orbit.

vintage notions gleaned on the journey

Home again, hound has park eyes, poles

beckon and long stay-in nights of knit bear their fruit,

ready to be plucked from the bag and planted in the outside world.

felt porn

We all know Nigella Lawson is queen
of food porn, but felt porn?
I have been seduced by felting; succumbed to the siren
call of sharp instruments, colder nights by the TV
watching Sons of Anarchy and the occasional
trip to the first aid box for a band-aid.

ahh..felt!
Every step is wicked sensualism; first the touch of
soft pure merino through the hands
as it is crocheted and shaped.

An earthy, sheepy smell as it's fibres are
invited to unite. Soapy, warm, slippery..

Snuggly drying by the heater
later with glasses of wine...
Not to mention the pain and occasional
bloodshed after accidental jabbings.

I am consumed with fascination.

This pendant wip is entitled fossil and fur, inspired by Bali
beach finds smuggled into
the country and felted op shop yarn.
The coral all have natural holes in them, too.

Just not sure how they want to hang..what do you think?
Metal is too hard,
but felt maybe too soft.

The first one is here!

A postbag full of warm orange goodness arrived today

from Chrisy at Sophism Press. The wool looks hand dyed..
it is luxurious to the touch.
It has a fin running down the middle like a
shark. Mmmmmm!
And look what else came in the package, a very cool
hand made book full of irony.
Just my thing.

I got so carried away with the book I forgot to focus on the knit
Perfect for this dull rainy day.
That Bris-Vegas grrl knows my sense of humor.
She better have copies in her etsy shop cuz
I know abut 100 people who will want one.

Not only that, I got a neato postcard that will come
in handy

when the next project is launched

...shhhh...

.not yet..

...ooohh...

OK...

just a peek then....