How To: Make a Knitted Pouf

I am totally going to make one of these.

Go here for step-by-step instructions. If you can knit and purl, it actually looks incredibly easy. And even though it requires 18 skeins of super-fat yarn plus stuffing, it'll still cost a heck of a lot less than the $800-$1,600 Flocks Poufs at DWR.

There's a smaller version, too.

(From Norway's Pickles blog -- don't worry, the instructions are in English -- via Tikoli's Twitter, via Craft, via CasaSugar.)

Cool Stuff: Knitted and Crocheted Lightbulb Covers

You guys know I'm a sucker for knitted and crocheted housewares ...

So of course I love these sweet light-fitting covers from Northern Ireland design studio Electricwig. Made to be slipped directly over a low-wattage compact fluorescent bulb and stiffened with sugar water to hold their shape, they'll soften the light's glare and add a touch of delicacy and femininity to those utilitarian bare-bulb fixtures.

They're 8,925 yen (or about $84) apiece from Trico, or 11 pounds sterling (about $22; orange, lime green, and brown only) from Thorsten van Elton.

Or, you know, you could just get out the knitting or crochet needles and make your own ;-)

(Via Granica Monotremata.)

How To: Make a Knitted Cushion Cover

I feel like a little kid rushing home from school with my first, imperfect art-class project: Look what I made! Now, I know all you hardcore crafters are probably laughing at just how rudimentary this little project is, but I am so not crafty that to actually make something from scratch and not have it be a total disaster is a huge accomplishment for me. So don't be too harsh, OK?

Anyway, as I mentioned awhile back, I've learned to knit. My needle skills are pretty basic at this point, but I can at least cast on, cast off, knit, and purl. With those astonishing skills, one can make ... scarves. Lots and lots of scarves. And since every member of my extended family now has a hand-knitted scarf of his or her very own (and since it's not exactly scarf weather anymore), I needed to figure out what else I could do -- without having to kick it up a level by learning how to increase, decrease, knit in the round, cable stitch, or any of those other fancy maneuvers that sound complicated enough to make brain hurt.

I've long been a fan of Lauren Saunders' absolutely gorgeous knitted pillows, and for the first time in years we actually own a working sewing machine, so I decided that I'd try my hand at a knitted cushion cover (albeit a much simpler version than Saunders'). Plus, my mom's birthday was coming up, so that was the kick in the pants I needed.

The project was easy enough and it turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. (Just don't look too closely at the seamwork, Mom! And if you do, let me remind you that this is pretty much the first thing I've sewed since high school Home Ec class.)

Here's how I did it:

* Choose two contrasting shades of the yarn of your choice. (I used a skein of Misti Alpaca Chunky in Copper Melange, plus a half-skein of Misti Alpaca Chunky in Natural Cream, because that's the color scheme in my mother's living room. Misti's baby alpaca is absolutely my favorite yarn on the planet -- because, you know, I am such a yarn connoisseur. So soft! I knitted on 14-inch, size 13 needles, but in retrospect I think I should have used size 11 so the stitches would be a little tighter.)

* Cast on enough stitches to make your piece about 20 inches wide.

* Alternate knitting and purling, switching off after each row -- umm, I think this is called the stockinette stitch -- until the skein is finished or until you've knitted a rectangle that's roughly 20 inches wide by 13 or 14 inches long.

* Switch to your contrasting yarn, and continue knitting and purling until you have a 20-inch square that's about two-thirds one color and one-third the other, and then cast off.

* Cut two 20-inch squares from a half-yard of the fabric of your choice. (I used an ivory linen that matched the lighter shade of yarn.)

* Pin the knitted square, with the "good" side up, onto one of the fabric squares. Sew them together around all four edges, using a relatively tight stitch on your sewing machine. You now have a fabric backing for the knitted portion of the pillow cover.

* Place the knit-and-fabric square on the other fabric square, with the knitted side down and the "right" side of the fabric-only square facing up. Pin them together about an inch in from the edges, and sew them together on three sides and about half of the fourth.

* Trim off the excess knitting and fabric around the edges on the three sewn sides, and turn the pillow cover right-side-out.

* Roll up a 16-inch-square pillow form (I got one for a few bucks at my local fabric store) and carefully slide it in through the opening on the fourth side. Then open the rolled-up pillow and adjust it in the cover as needed.

* Fold the excess fabric and knitting on each side of the opening in toward the center, and pin it closed.

* As for the final step, I'm sure there's a "correct" way to do this (I told you I'm not a crafter!). But I simply shoved the edge of the pillow into the sewing machine and sewed it closed, trying to keep the stitches as close to the edge as I could.

Finis!

P.S. If there are any knitting or sewing wizards out there with tips for improving upon my totally improvised instructions, please feel free to add them! And if anyone has suggestions for fun variations on this pillow project, I'd love to hear 'em. (For my next trick, I'm actually attempting a three-color cushion cover -- woo hoo!)

P.P.S. Have a DIY project of your own you'd like to show off? I'd love to share it here. Just e-mail me a snap or two, plus simple, step-by-step instructions.

Trendspotting: Modern Needlecraft

I'm seeing more and more knitting, crochet, and macramé utilized in home-decor products lately. But these aren't your grandmother's tissue cosies -- while still undoubtedly feminine and ornamental, the traditional needlecraft techniques are more likely to be applied in graphic ways to utilitarian materials and furnishings, giving the finished product a sense of freshness and humor that their matronly predecessors lacked.

In addition to the macraméd chairs, knitted pillows, and crocheted light fixtures, hanging pendants, and pottery (top) that I've recently blogged here, several more industrial-meets-handicraft furnishings have caught my attention in recent weeks:

The Macramé Lamp from Sweden's Pernilla Jansson is an art piece rather than a retail product. Still, I want one.

This Macramé Hanging Shade, $168 from Anthropologie, is more "Granny Chic" than industrial, but has a somewhat modern sensibility thanks to the simple drum shape and all-white palette.

These petite Crochet Tables, $50 each from CB2, are rendered in iron and wire, making them both delicate and tough.

Marcel Wanders' Crochet Table for Moooi, $1,448 from UnicaHome, is made from cotton and hardened with epoxy.

Check out the gigantic needles Dutch designer Christien Meindertsma uses to knit her Flocks Poufs, $800 and $1,600 each at Design Within Reach.

I think it's nice to see handicrafts coming back into vogue, even among die-hard modernists. What examples have you spotted lately, and what do you think is behind this melding of traditional needlecraft and modern design?

How to: Make a Felted Bowl

I think Katie Egeland, who has a wonderful blog about knitting and other adventures called If Time Exists, got tired of me swooning over felted bowls on Etsy and recently wrote in encouraging me to try felting a bowl myself.

When I confessed that I had no idea how to felt, and that I'm a newbie knitter to boot, Katie assured me that it's pretty straightforward and thoughtfully provided these step-by-step instructions:

"Any natural animal fiber will work for felting. Wool is the most commonly used material and will give you nice results for a felted bowl. Just make sure the wool hasn't been treated to be machine washable (called 'superwash'), because then it won't felt.

You can use any weight of wool, though bulkier wools will make a thicker, sturdier bowl. You'll need needles that are a few sizes bigger than normally recommended for the yarn you're using. For the bowl pictured above, I used Freedom Wool (a bulky weight) and size 15 needles. You'll be using 16-inch circular needles as well as double-pointed needles in the same size.

You'll need to know how to cast on, make a knit stitch, knit in the round, knit on double-pointed needles, and decrease your stitches using 'ssk' (slip slip knit) and 'k2tog' (knitting two stitches together). If you're unfamiliar with some of these techniques or with using different types of needles, check out Knitting Help, which has tons of free, helpful, step-by-step videos that will bring you up to speed.

Cast on 45 stitches using your circular needles. Join and work in the round. Don't turn the work -- simply knit the stitches in a circle, creating a tube as you go. Knit until the tube is six or seven inches long. If you want a deeper bowl, continue knitting until your tube is a little longer. Keep in mind that the felting process shrinks the fabric more length-wise than it does width-wise.

Decreasing:
Round 1: *ssk, k5, k2tog. Repeat from * to end. 35 stitches remain.
Round 2: Knit.
Round 3: *ssk, k3, k2tog. Repeat from * to end. 25 stitches remain.
Round 4: Knit.

Now switch to your double-pointed needles. Put ten stitches on the first needle, five on the second, and ten on the third. Use the fourth to knit stitches off of each needle (one at a time).

Round 5: *ssk, k1, k2tog. Repeat from * to end. 15 stitches remain.
Round 6: K2tog 7 times, k1. 8 stitches remain.

Cut yarn and thread through remaining stitches with a tapestry needle. Tighten and weave in ends. Now you're ready to felt!

The keys to felting are agitation and hot water. You can felt in the washing machine -- Knitty has a really good article about how to do that. But I live in an apartment building with coin washers, so I felt by hand in the sink.

Start by filling the sink about halfway with really hot water, adding a little dish or laundry detergent. I wear rubber gloves so I don't destroy my hands.

Then have at it! Swirl your bowl around, rub it, squeeze it, beat it up. Sometimes I use a wooden spoon for variety. Just be really rough with it. You'll know the felting has started when the wool begins to fuzz up and blur the stitches.

Periodically during the process, fill a bowl with ice cubes and cold water and soak the knitting in there for a minute. Then refill your sink with fresh hot water. The drastic temperature changes help the felting along.

It usually takes at least a good half hour of work to felt a piece of knitting to the point I like for a bowl. The more you felt, the less visible the stitches and the stiffer the resulting material will be.

When you're happy with the amount that your bowl has felted, squeeze out the excess water without twisting. Roll the bowl up in a towel and step on it to get more of the water out. Then take it out and stretch it into shape over an upside-down bowl. Leave it to dry -- and voila, a felted bowl!"

Thanks so much, Katie! I need to head over to Knitting Help (which really is an awesome site for beginning knitters like me) to study up on those decreasing techniques, but I'm definitely going to attempt this. And if any of you try your hand at a felted bowl, please let me know how it goes!

(P.S. Have a D.I.Y. project of your own you'd like to show off? I'd love to share it here. Just e-mail me a snap or two, plus instructions.)

Cool Stuff: Lauren Saunders Pillows

Since my daughter and I learned to knit recently, I've been having a love affair with yarn. (You don't even want to know what kind of cash I've dropped on skein after skein of silky-soft vegetable-dyed alpaca at our local "boutique" knitting store. After I added it all up, I vowed to stock up on yarn from the discount craft store instead. But I fear it's already too late -- the good stuff has spoiled me.)

Anyway, in addition to knitting up a storm of amateurishly-crafted but lovingly-made scarves for my family, I'm finding myself drawn to all kinds of knitted goods recently -- especially textiles and housewares. (After all, what could be warmer and cozier when it's cold and gray outside?) So when I spotted these pillows by Lauren Saunders the other day, I was instantly smitten.

The Los Angeles designer is inspired by the California coast and other western geography, which figures prominently -- albeit abstractly -- in her organic creations, as well as by modern art. As she says, "I often ... [use] yarn and color combinations the same as I would paint on a canvas."

The pillows are unabashedly luxurious and tactile, too -- hand loomed from fuzzy mohair, llama, and merino wool and backed with nubby, 100 percent linen. They're not cheap, but boy, are they yummy.

Take a look:

Slice, $320 to $375

Strata, $165 to $190

Transition, $135 to $160

Wild Grass, $320 to $375

Ocean, $215 to $375

Flow, $165 to $190

The pillows are available from these retailers or through the Lauren Saunders website.

That's Random: The Knitters

Yesterday, Laurel and I attended a mother-daughter "Learn to Knit" party that I'd signed up for at a school auction.

Now, let me preface this by saying that the domestic arts have never been my forte: I don't cook much that doesn't involve boiling water or a microwave (though I have been known to bake on occasion -- albeit nothing much more complicated than the Toll House recipe), can't sew to save my life, and leave things like pumpkin-carving or anything involving cutting and gluing to my husband, who has much more patience and facility for these kinds of things than I do.

Suffice it to say, I'm pretty much hopeless when it comes to traditional domesticity -- decorating being the one (arguable) exception. My mother was a pioneering career woman, not a homemaker, and she's inspired me in different ways.

That said, I've always glanced longingly over at the women I see pulling out their knitting at meetings and other gatherings, admiring the way their fingers fly so deftly as coils of yarn are miraculously transformed at their touch into brightly colored ribbons of hundreds upon hundreds of tiny knots -- all while they nod along with the speaker or chat with friends. It's always struck me as incredibly meditative and cozy.

So yesterday, thanks to the guidance of three very patient instructors, Laurel and I actually learned how to knit! I got the casting-on part down pretty quickly, but the actual knitting part proved a bit more challenging for my big, clumsy fingers to master. Still, I did finally get the hang of it, repeating over and over under my breath, "Put the bunny in the burrow, give the bunny a scarf, take the bunny out of the burrow ... "

I've already ripped out my lopsided, raggedy rows five times since then, and am pretty much going to be glued to the illustrations on Learn-to-Knit any time I pick up the needles. I doubt I'll ever get past the basic knit stitch -- the purl stitch seems utterly unfathomable to me at this point, and likely will forever. But while there probably aren't any home-knit sweaters in my future, there may be a lumpy, awkwardly crafted scarf or two. And to klutzy, home-arts-impaired me, that feels like a huge accomplishment.

Laurel, on the other hand, took to knitting like a seasoned pro (that's her handiwork above; my own is not fit to be photographed). The girl is a natural. Once she got the basic concept down she was off and knitting, her long, delicate fingers in constant motion and her brow furrowed in concentration. Before the party's end, she was halfway to a potholder and by dinnertime, she pretty much had one (her macho big brother was even impressed enough to ask her to show him how to knit). She's totally jazzed about knitting, and is already crafting elaborate plans for a trip to our local yarn store to stock up on supplies.

I honestly don't know where she came from, but Ms. Martha had better watch out for this girl.

Anyway: Yay, knitting! (And thank you Adrienne, Lisa, and Stephanie!)