Seeing as this is knitting related, and today's post deals with knitting, I'll include this little bit of knowledge I've gained lately. I've begun knitting the bicycle basket and in general the knitting is going quickly. The only thing that slows the process, other than the guilt of knowing that I should be doing other things, is working with the Jute twine called for in the instructions. A couple of you wrote to me warning that knitting with this "yarn" can be hard on your hands. I'm here to confirm that. I can't work on this project for more than two hours in a row without needing to take a break. I even considered abandoning the twine(it was only $2.50 a skein) and switching to a bulky cotton yarn. I decided against that because I think it would lose that rustic charm that the original basket has. Anyway, the moral here is "knit in short bursts, knot(cute,huh?) long stretches.
OK. On to what this post is really about.
Are you wondering what that is? It's an urban art knitted cozie, of course. Several years ago artist Carl Trominski installed a series of "paintings" along both sides of an underpass. At the time of their unveiling, I didn't think very much of them and I still don't. Underneath the knitted cozies, they're just blue fields painted with reflective paint. At first I honestly thought they were installed as a safety measure. They didn't read as visually interesting at all. Sorry, Carl.
Now, I love them.
Local artist, Magda Sayeg, was commissioned to knit cozies for the paintings/traffic signs.
I'm especially appreciative of the fact that the designs she selected for the cozies are very identifiable as traditional knitting patterns. There's a variety of ripple patterns, stripes and granny squares. She's not using knitting as an expedient way to encase these paintings, but using the paintings as a canvas to celebrate knitting.
I think it's inspired and inspiring.
I rode my bike, sans soon-to-be-finished knitting basket, down to the site of the underpass to take these pictures. When I got there, I couldn't help but feel happy that I lived in a place where textiles would be so publicly and proudly displayed.