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Posted 1/30/2017 6:17am by Eugene Wyatt.

Love Blue, A Sport Weight 

Dominique just dyed Saxon Merino skeins a new Love Blue in a Sport weight: 2 ply, 2 oz (50 g), 175 yd; 6.5 stitiches per inch on US 5.
Available in the Sport Yarn Store.
Posted 1/10/2017 2:26pm by Eugene Wyatt.

Pussyhat Project

Posted 1/10/2017 2:25pm by Eugene Wyatt.


A natural dye to knit your Pussyhat; available in the Worsted Yarn Store.

Posted 12/27/2016 5:34am by Eugene Wyatt.

Breeding Group

Posted 12/20/2016 7:09pm by Eugene Wyatt.

"... —was no longer Albertine’s future, it was her past. Her past? That is the wrong word, since for jealousy there can be neither past nor future, and what it imagines is invariably the present."

The Fugitive, Marcel Proust; translated by Moncrieff, Kilmartin, Enright in the Modern Library Edition, P. 662 


"... –ce n’était plus l’Avenir d’Albertine, c’était son Passé. Son Passé? C’est mal dire puisque pour la jalousie il n’est ni passé ni avenir et que ce qu’elle imagine est toujours le Présent."

Albertine disparue, Marcel Proust, Edition Humanis, Loc 45166

Posted 11/19/2016 4:24pm by Eugene Wyatt.

Black Walnuts fall from their trees in October. As a natural dye they make an unusual golden brown color.

Dominique gathers them from the farm driveway and soaks them in spring water for about 2 weeks.

She mordants the yarn with alum and dyes the yarn with the Black Walnut liquor producing a delicious golden brown color. 

A worsted weight singles (2 ounces = 140 yards) to be knit with US #8 needles.

Available in Special Orders.

Posted 9/6/2016 4:06pm by Eugene Wyatt.

In this connection, I think, we must linger upon Tyler’s account of Mae West. He pays tribute to “the scandalous sway of Miss West’s hips—it reminds me of nothing so much as the motion of a cradle.” Admittedly, Mae is cruel to her little boy. In masquerading as a female impersonator, she robs that figure of his comedy, “leaving him only his pathos.” Still, in that gesture Mae also enacts the one supreme sacrifice of female nature: the mother’s recognition and condonement of the homosexual flaw in her son! This, of course, almost never happens in life; that is why it had to happen at least once in art. That passage occurs in The Hollywood Hallucination, which bears this dedication: “To the memory of my mother, that golden nature whose image so often illuminated with me this side of the movie screen.”


Tyler’s follow-up book, Magic and Myth of the Movies, does the same thing with the idea of myth. In his earliest writing on film he compares stars to the ancient gods and goddesses. This isn’t just because they are worshipped by the multitude. The stars, he claims, fulfill long-lasting needs not met by contemporary religion. People like us, they are somehow immortal. On the screen they live and die and live again. Like the Homeric gods, they disguise themselves to us. They become cowboys or detectives, queens or saloon girls; but we recognize them every time. They reenact their roles so that each film becomes a ritual akin to ancient drama. Our gods, symbolically slain or beatified, populate stories that are magical invocations tailored to a modern Christian society. Myth, Tyler explains, is “a basic, prototypic pattern” that reveals "imaginative truth."

Rhapsodes, How 1940's Critics Changed The American Film Culture, 2016 David Bordwell

Posted 9/5/2016 4:29pm by Eugene Wyatt.

He was “The liveliest, smartest, most original film critic this country ever produced,” asserted Susan Sontag.

Rhapsodes, How 1940's Critics Changed The American Film Culture, 2016 David Bordwell.

Posted 9/5/2016 4:17pm by Eugene Wyatt.

He exemplified the bohemian genius. He was addicted to cigarettes, booze, and philandering. He was unkempt, unbathed, and shabbily dressed. He refused to get his bad teeth fixed. Yet all was forgiven when he started to talk. He could raise a party to an exhilarating pitch, for hours. His hands writhed and snapped as the words poured out, and his voice held people rapt. John Huston wrote, “He is smiling. It stops raining all over the world.”

Rhapsodes, How 1940's Critics Changed The American Film Culture, 2016 David Bordwell

Posted 8/30/2016 1:45pm by Eugene Wyatt.
American writer best remembered for his music and film reviews in The New Republic in the 1930s.
He was considered "the first rock critic" due to his appreciation of jazz and its impact on popular culture.
From Wikipedia
Ferguson's famous appreciation of Bix Beiderbecke (1930) shows his technical knowledge without showing it off, draws pointed comparisons with other musicians, and captures what is both traditional and new about jazz.
He played a full easy tone, no forcing, faking, or mute tricks, no glissando to cover unsure attack or vibrato to fuzz over imprecisions of pitch—it all had to be in the music. And the clear line of that music is something to wonder at. You see, this is the sort of thing that is almost wholly improvised, starting from a simple theme and taking off from that into a different and unpredictable melodic line, spontaneous, personal—almost a new tune but still shadowing the old one, anchored in its chord sequence. Obviously, without lyric invention and a perfect instinct for harmony, this is no go for a minute, let alone chorus after chorus, night after night.
Ferguson wrote in the laconic, wiseacre idiom of the generation who faced the turmoil of the 1930s and who knew the lessons of Ring Lardner, Ernest Hemingway, and Gertrude Stein. Jazz inflected his prose, as did the pulse of the movies, which by the time he started reviewing had finally learned to talk properly.
Just as everyday conversations hop from high metaphor to curse words, Ferguson could jump registers.
Rhapsodes, How 1940's Critics Changed The American Film Culture, 2016 David Bordwell