light gazing, ışığa bakmak

Showing posts with label knit knit knit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label knit knit knit. Show all posts

Saturday, September 6, 2014

novidades imperdíveis da 'rentrée'

um título bombástico só para chamar a atenção, mas é verdade: há algumas novidades imperdíveis. (um parêntesis para lembrar o aniversário de uma data fatídica, a noite de 6 para 7 de Setembro em Beyoglu, a Septemvriana, quando uma multidão de  arruaceiros e criminosos instigados pelo governo de então, assassinaram, violaram, destruíram e expulsaram os gregos da então Constantinopla. outra queda populacional: 119.882 cidadãos de origem grega em Istambul em 1927 para cerca de 7000 em 1978. esta noite está descrita por vários escritores turcos da actualidade que a lembram com desgosto e revolta, um deles Altun no Sultão de Bizâncio.)

e as novidades:
a abertura hoje de uma nova livraria em Lisboa, desde logo motivo para celebrar. é a livraria do Sr. Teste que até agora funcionava apenas online. a cara oculta é a de Ricardo Ribeiro da antiga Trama. a nova livraria está instalada na Sociedade Guilherme Cossoul na avenida dom carlos I. o que tem de especial? vende exclusivamente livros bons (quero ver alguém contrariar isto).

outra novidade é a criação da Maria Amélia. nem há nada a dizer senão expressar amor por este projecto. ficam as palavras da criadora, mais do que suficientes e que ultrapassam as que eu poderia dizer: "A Mariamélia nasce de um desejo de produzir, desenhar e redesenhar objectos que nos transportam — no espaço e no tempo — ao sítio das memórias.Inspirada em antepassados, em lugares antigos e num tempo diferente, é uma personagem a guiar-nos pelo desenho de peças únicas, de técnicas esquecidas e de práticas abandonadas. Inventa um conjunto de objectos que nos seduzem pelo desenho e por aquilo que evocam. As peças reunidas à volta dela são sempre únicas, com um autor e uma história por trás."

(imagem Maria Amélia)

não é novidade nenhuma mas é preciso lê-lo sempre porque todos os textos podem ser classificados como 'novidades imperdíveis da rentrée", da entrada e da saída: Rui Manuel Amaral no Bicho Ruim.

outra não novidade mas uma história de memórias, de silêncio, do puro momento e da evocação, a série de Heidi Romano no instagram #insearchofstillness.



Saturday, June 21, 2014

ontem

se a minha vida fosse normal e não tivesse 1035 coisas a não esquecer de fazer, esquecendo mesmo assim meia dúzia de sítios para estar e de coisas para acabar, eu tinha estado era aqui - apesar de estar calor e de a lã picar nesta altura a mandar-nos para a rua. as lindas maravilhosas Noro que vi ontem estavam a 7,5. um susto de preço, uma doce tentação. com menos de cinco não há camisola.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

ainda não tenho a Zagal

mas, bolas, há que tempos que a quero

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

as meias de Tolstoi

ou melhor, as meias de Anna Makarovna em Guerra e Paz.

The melancholy silence that followed was broken by the sounds of the children’s voices and laughter from the next room. Evidently some jolly excitement was going on there.

“Finished, finished!” little Natasha’s gleeful yell rose above them all.

Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha he never lost sight of) and smiled happily.

“That’s delightful music!” said he.

“It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking,” said Countess Mary.

“Oh, I’ll go and see,” said Pierre, jumping up. “You know,” he added, stopping at the door, “why I’m especially fond of that music? It is always the first thing that tells me all is well. When I was driving here today, the nearer I got to the house the more anxious I grew. As I entered the anteroom I heard Andrusha’s peals of laughter and that meant that all was well.”

“I know! I know that feeling,” said Nicholas. “But I mustn’t go there- those stockings are to be a surprise for me.”
Pierre went to the children, and the shouting and laughter grew still louder.

“Come, Anna Makarovna,” Pierre’s voice was heard saying, “come here into the middle of the room and at the word of command, ‘One, two,’ and when I say ‘three’… You stand here, and you in my arms- well now! One, two!…” said Pierre, and a silence followed: “three!” and a rapturously breathless cry of children’s voices filled the room. “Two, two!” they shouted.

This meant two stockings, which by a secret process known only to herself Anna Makarovna used to knit at the same time on the same needles, and which, when they were ready, she always triumphantly drew, one out of the other, in the children’s presence.

- -

quem acha que tricô com combina com literatura engana-se. [e a pastora-leitora... podia chorar de comoção!]. a referência de Tolstoi às meias que são feitas em simultâneo em que, no final, uma sai de dentro da outra, deve ser a primeira referência jamais feita a esta técnica, longamente explicada aqui e aqui.
lindo.



Thursday, April 17, 2014

sweateroo

quasequasequasequase

Friday, April 4, 2014

meias da anatólia, tricotadeiros da Thessalonica (e agora perto de Bursa)

da Skylife, a revista das linhas aéreas turcas:

Socks and gloves

Socks and gloves have been necessities of everyday life since the earliest times. And those worked with traditional Anatolian designs express ‘their master’s voice’.


In Anatolian culture, socks and gloves are a virtual lexicon of knitting motifs, each one with its own distinct meaning. Tailored to the anatomy of hand and foot with a specific function in everyday life, the socks and gloves that are knitted with either two or five knitting needles made of either metal or wood are vital items of apparel. Let us lend an ear then to the voice of the socks and gloves that protect hands and feet against natural phenomena of every kind, adorning them with a thousand and one motifs and beliefs, as well as adding vibrancy and meaning to conditions of hardship.

A SHORT HISTORY OF SOCKS
The felt socks that were found in the Altay Pazyryk ‘kurgan’ in the 5th century B.C. are evidence that the sock tradition among the Turks dates back to the earliest times. The ancient Greek poet Hesiod mentions a shoe lining (piloi) woven from animal hairs. This woven item used to line shoes could very well have been a sock. Sock-like pieces of footwear that were cut from felt or animal skins and stitched together but did not stretch to fit the foot snugly are known to have been produced starting from the 2nd century A.D.
Socks similar to those in Anatolian culture are seen in the Balkan countries, in Greece, in Turkmenistan, and among the nomadic communities that wandered from place to place grazing their animals. The word ‘çorap’ (sock) in Turkish is of Persian origin. Originally ‘gorab’, it passed into Arabic as ‘jurab’, from there to Turkish in the form ‘çorap’, entering the Balkan languages as well. In Turkmenistan the sock is called ‘ceşka’. The word sock in English derives from the Latin ‘soccus’, which was originally used to denote a light, low-heeled shoe. The Romans took the word from the ancient Greeks, who wore ‘sukkhos’, in other words a light shoe made from animal skin and wrapped around the foot. In Roman times these shoes  found their way to Britain under the Roman occupation and were adopted by the Anglo-Saxons, who realized that they could protect their feet by wearing socks of this sort inside their boots. But the present-day form of the originally hand-knitted sock came about thanks to William Leey, who invented the knitting machine in the 17th century. It was followed by the production of silk stockings. Then, with the invention of nylon in the 1930s, the industry was freed from its dependence on silk, and the more durable nylon stockings slowly began to appear on the market. The 15th of May 1940 when the first nylon stockings produced in the United States went on sale was even declared ‘nylon day’. The new stockings sold out in a single day when long lines formed in front of stores even before they opened.

FIVE NEEDLES
In Anatolia socks are knitted with yarn made from fibers such as wool, mohair, camelhair and goathair. There is hardly a woman in Anatolia who doesn’t know how to knit socks and gloves. She knits while traveling, while chatting with her neighbors at the door or visiting a friend’s home, even while driving the herd, and, of course, in her spare time, the five needles turning constantly in her fingers, the motifs coming to life stitch by stitch. In some areas even the men do their part by knitting their own socks and gloves at gatherings in the  coffeehouse or the village meeting room. Gloves are knitted starting from the wrist. When the hand section is finished, the five fingers are knitted on, always red at the tip to signify the ‘hennaed’ hand.  Socks too employ a variety of fascinating knitting techniques for the toe, heel, sole, ankle and cuff.

THE LANGUAGE OF THE MOTIFS
The socks and gloves of the Anatolian villager express his life philosophy in short, pithy statements. A wide variety of motifs are employed to lend the hands a lucky touch and healing power and make the feet tough as a camel’s hoof, ensuring the wearer’s return safe and sound from any road gone down, and safeguarding him/her against natural disasters, accidents and other catastrophes and, of course the evil eye. These motifs, which are also observed in carpets, kilims and other textiles, are adapted in stylized form from plants, flowers, and the sacred parts of animals, from the tools and instruments used in everyday life, and sometimes from the imagination itself. Literally hundreds of terms are used to express these lively and diverse sock motifs, such as ‘hair fastener’, ‘little beak’, ‘blackberry blossom’, ‘ram’s horn’, ‘grape vine’, ‘rose garden’, and ‘bulbul’s eye’. The married man traveling from the village to the town market wears a sock displaying  the ‘big agha’ motif, while an unmarried man’s socks display the ‘little agha’ motif. If a young man’s sweetheart has left him for another, he sports a sock worked with a ‘they stole my beloved from me’ motif. New brides meanwhile wears socks with rose motifs and bridegrooms socks with branch and tendril motifs. Socks also make a valuable present. At least 20-25 pairs are knitted for a young girl’s trousseau, some of them for distribution to others in her surroundings. Girls knit and send socks to their fiancés too. And socks are given as gifts to infants, children, and the young and old at weddings and on holidays and special feast days.

The colorful and decorative Anatolian socks that are machine-made and snugly fitting today, and therefore wearable with shoes, boots and sandals, were an important invention hundreds of years ago. Created by nomadic communities in myriad varieties, socks and gloves continue to be a vital necessity of everyday life even today.

The socks and gloves seen in the photographs are taken from the Sabiha Tansuğ Collection.

- -
e sobre Sabiha Tansuğ, que curioso.








pelo O., soube da aldeia entre Bursa e o mar, em que grande parte dos homens tricotam para aumentar o fundo de maneio doméstico, forma de dizer que não sei se é verdadeira ou não. os residentes de Yeni Karaağaç são oriundos de Thessaloniki. (aqui)






Saturday, March 29, 2014

sol


Monday, March 10, 2014

são pedro, são pedro



depois de passar um domingo a espreitar o céu a cada meia hora a ver se abria, eis que temos uma segunda-feira assim. (ponto positivo: ter feito metade das costas da camisola que tem, melancolicamente, o mesmo tom de azul. tricotamos o céu também).

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

ponte


porque me fez lembrar a ponte sobre o Drina, um livro para ler. fui tomar o peso da colecção tolstoi em português. é grande, comparada com a minha versão completa em paperback de 1400 páginas. será que tem bonecos? não vi. os bonecos desenho-os eu, no entanto.

no Japão, uma designer de artigos de tricô, Mariko Mikuni, criou um modelo (são já mais, agora) e uma lã para esse modelo e estabeleceu-se em Kesennuma com a Kesennuma Knitting, que emprega mulheres daquela localidade, afectada pelo tsunami. as camisolas, que têm um preço de alta costura, 75000 iénes, 500 euros, são totalmente feitas à mão e no site de venda está identificada a mulher que a fez. a ideia, para além de ajudar as vítimas do tsunami e de contrariar a desertificação das zonas afectadas, é fazer uma camisola que dure o resto da vida.

Mariko Mikuni, essa bonita mulher japonesa, viu a sua vida mudada para sempre em Portugal.

procurar um livro, ter mais de quarenta anos, não ter pressa, ler linha a linha: é preciso ler Guerra e Paz.

esta ponte é em Mostar, na Boznia Herzegovina.

a propósito de uma camisola que dure o resto da vida.





Monday, March 3, 2014

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

i love it


Thursday, February 20, 2014

Saturday, February 8, 2014

'porque comprar é um acto político'

como sempre, para ler, rosa pomar.

(e ainda encontro a gola que me matei a procurar antes, total love)

a rosa é um farol de luz intensa para muita gente, e ali me incluo.

«uma camisola feita por nós que vestimos a um filho tem um valor que o dinheiro não paga»

filho, as coisas mais valiosas são as que o dinheiro não paga e os olhos não vêem.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

greatness of soul

"The execution of the Duc d'Enghien," declared Monsieur Pierre, "was a political necessity, and it seems to me that Napoleon showed greatness of soul by not fearing to take on himself the whole responsibility of that deed."

"Dieu! Mon Dieu!" muttered Anna Pavlovna in a terrified whisper.

"What, Monsieur Pierre... Do you consider that assassination shows greatness of soul?" said the little princess, smiling and drawing her work nearer to her.

Tolstoi em Guerra e Paz. seria possível eu não gostar da little princess com o seu trabalho de agulha?

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

should i say

one of humankind's most worthwhile activities.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Sunday, January 26, 2014

s/n


Thursday, January 9, 2014

(knit, knit, knit)

"O rapazinho lia torcendo na mão e tentando arrancar um botão já mal seguro do casaco. A mãe afastou-lhe diversas vezes a mão, mas a mãozinha roliça voltava a agarrar o botão. A mãe arrancou o botão e meteu-o no bolso.
- Está quieto com as mãos, Gricha - disse ela, e de novo retomou o seu cobertor, lavor a que se dedicava desde há muito e ao qual se agarrava nos momentos difíceis. Agora tricotava nervosamente, movendo os dedos e contando as malhas."
Tolstoi em Anna Karénina.


Sarah Illenberger.

 
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