nmk

(an example of NMK, being possible elements of the
"evoking Iceland shawl")

This past week has been devoted to being not terribly productive at all. But if I wanted to spin it (I love spin), I would say I indulged in the latest trend - New Minimalist Knitting*.

New Minimalist Knitting is fantastic. The solution to all of those knitting mojo-less moments. The solution to spending all your time in the newest amphibian aquarium. The solution to when knitting time is limited, ideas are non-existent, and all round cack-handedness rules. It is, in fact, the Emperor's New Clothes of the yarn world.

To practice New Minimalist Knitting, take a ball or two of yarn, unwind just a little, then place it on the floor, a shelf, a pretty plate, drape it on the window sill, toss it on a chair. (The advanced NMKer need not even take the yarn out of their stash.) Then - and this is the really clever part - you stand back, admire, and pronounce done. (You can always take a photo for your records.)

There may be those who lack the imagination, or rigourous training in NMK (there are group courses available, of course, contact your LYS for details, but an intensive series of one-to-one sessions, where the master NMKer comes to your home, is the best way to go), and complain that a ball of yarn has been left somewhere inconvenient, with threads hanging off, just waiting to trip them up. But sit them down, and explain that if they concentrate really, really hard, they will begin to see the finished item. With focus, they will soon be able to visualise the days and weeks and hours of planning, of knitting, of finishing. Slowly, the yarn will be transformed, threads will pick themselves up, and loop together, knotting delicately, but with absolute surety, into swathes of knitted beauty. The potentiality of the yarn has been achieved. And all is good with the world.

*both photo and phrase coined by Puplet, who was having a bit of a silly weekend. I think he might have been at the catnip.