I walked away from an argument today — no, really, I did — and not for the first time. Okay, so it’s an argument I’ve had plenty of times before and it’s a losing battle, and that’s why I walk away from it more often than I don’t.
I love a good debate. I love it when someone challenges my assumptions and makes me think. I love the interchange of ideas, even when there’s a disagreement. My best friends are all people who can hold their own in an argument, without just being jerks. But I’m completely aware this is a relatively fringe position these days, and folks with that outlook can be few and far between. And one of the reasons I started this blog was to have my own soapbox. So here’s a soapbox moment, and when I’m done, please, take the soapbox and have your own in the comments.
Here’s the thing. I hate some of the stuff people say to brand new spinners. Actually, to folks who are brand new to many things, but particularly spinners. Some of this advice is peevesome or downright offensive; some of it is insulting to people who’ve made huge commitments to skill and excellence, and much of it is actually condescending and belittling to the beginning spinner it’s intended to support. Let’s go through a few of these, shall we?
If I wanted perfect yarn, I’d buy it at Wal-Mart!
Really? Because a skein of acrylic selling for 50 cents an ounce is the pinnacle of yarn perfection? Because there’s no point in producing a skein of merino-silk-cashmere blend yarn spun exactly to your specifications when you could just buy a cone of cheap mill cotton? Because this…
or this…
or this
is all stuff it’s not worth bothering to do, because you can totally just buy yarn at Wal-Mart. Yarn just like that.
Another problem with this whole line is that millspun yarn isn’t perfect. It has tons of flaws. But until people are fairly experienced in judging yarn (which comes quickly from spinning, and more slowly from other pursuits) most folks can’t detect these flaws. The textile mill wasn’t developed because people wanted a more perfect yarn than could be produced by hand; it was developed because people wanted more yarn, faster, for less investment in training. What mills produce is an approximation of the work of an experienced handspinner — an approximation that is good enough to do the job considering it’s cheaper and easier to get more of, and can be made with a lower-end workforce.
In the less-than-300 years we’ve had millspun yarn, and textile mills making cloth, and a move to mass production for clothing, people’s exposure to really good textiles has gone down; people’s ability to judge a good-quality fabric or garment has diminished; people can’t even tell, and they just assume that whatever machines are doing must be better than what people can do — at least, for textiles. I find this perspective incredibly tragic. I don’t even know where to start talking about how tragic it is.
Your first yarn is art yarn!
No it isn’t. It’s beginner yarn. Beginner yarn is great, and very powerful, and a wonderful thing, and something to be tremendously proud of. But it’s not art yarn. You can’t do it on purpose, you can’t reproduce it, you don’t understand the technical structures involved, and there are no guarantees it will stand up to being used. Real art yarn is produced by people with skill and training — people who have invested time and effort into acquiring those things. They have techniques that produce specific results, which they can execute reliably and describe and define and teach. Their yarn is not an accident. Their yarn is structurally sound.
These same things can’t universally be said of that first beginner yarn — but that doesn’t mean the beginner yarn is bad. It just means it’s beginner yarn. Think about it this way: if you were to pick up a guitar, would you expect the first thing you played on it to sound like Andres Segovia playing Bach fugues? I hope not — because if you really think that, you’re going to be disappointed. Nobody should be giving you the expectation of instant excellence with the guitar, because it’s a lie. Playing the guitar takes skill, and that skill takes practice to acquire. Spinning is no different.
I think it sells a beginner short to tell them their novice efforts are master-quality (and let’s not even get into what it sounds like it says about master work). It sells beginners short, because it’s a lie. People do it in an attempt to be supportive, I know, but I think it’s better to praise beginner work for what it is, rather than to liken it to the work of people who’ve spent time and energy studying and practicing. Why? Because as a beginner, I think you have a right to know there IS more; that you can do better, and you will, and that all it takes is wanting to and practicing. I mean, how much of a bummer is it to think that you just learned everything there is to know in 15 minutes? Does it even ring true, or do you know deep down it’s a lie and a platitude?
I think a big part of the problem is that people sometimes don’t want to be beginners — and I think that expectation comes in part from this notion that it’s supportive and good to tell beginners their work is somehow “advanced” or “expert” or “art.” But as I see it, being a beginner is a sacred, special time. In fact, in Zen, there is a saying:
“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, in the expert’s mind there are few.”
This concept of the Beginner’s Mind is an important one to study in a Zen context… or, really, any context. Being a beginner is the most liberated time you’ll ever encounter. You are totally free to not know what you don’t know; you shouldn’t have to be working to overcome baggage; you should be under no pressure to demonstrate or defend a subject or position. Nobody can judge you for saying “I don’t know.”
But in American culture, we have devalued being a beginner. We urge people to hurry into mastery, even if only by proclaiming themselves to have achieved it. We suggest that not having mastered something is bad, when all it really means is that you haven’t mastered it yet, and what could possibly be wrong with that? I’m gonna say this again: There is nothing wrong with being a beginner.
In Zen pursuits, mastery surpasses being an expert, in large part because a master can reclaim the Beginner’s Mind, and is again free in ways that weren’t possible when being an expert. In other words, the greatest mastery there is comes when you can incorporate everything that you know, without being so bound by that knowledge that other things seem impossible.
Where this often falls apart in American culture (and likely others) is when people are looking to move (often as quickly as possible) from being beginners to being experts. It’s not uncommon for people at that stage of the game to want answers that are absolutes: do this, and then that, and you will get a predictable result. This is an understandable desire, but it’s my opinion that focusing too hard that way actually slows down the learning process in the long run. Being able to instead wonder, and question, and say “What if?” — being able to imagine a possibility and strive for it, knowing it will take work and time, knowing there is a vast world of potential that is not yet revealed, that’s what makes learning happen and happen fast. And there are as many avenues to mastery as there are people who’d pursue it.
For myself personally, I strive to be a beginner wherever I can. I want to always have those pathways open; I don’t want to miss out on taking an interesting detour because it wasn’t marked on a roadmap. I would urge everyone, no matter how long they’ve been spinning, to try being a beginner. Come to things assuming you know nothing, and don’t quickly be forced out of that mode of thinking. You might be amazed what this opens up for you.
I’ve always told my kids that the day they stop learning should be the day they die. But somehow, I’ve never really thought about how the word “beginner” had become such a put-down or even an insult to some people.
Very good post. You’ve realigned a few things in my mind and I thank you for that!
Not a shock, but Agree (1)
And something I had to remind myself of during the TDF mile challenge. It’s ok to be a beginner, it’s ok to have results not be what you want them to be. I was trying two new things (speed spinning and longdraw) and as such, I was making beginner yarn. Which *is not a bad thing* but I still had to remind myself of that, with help from my friends.
I think it’s the fear of being a beginner that prevents a lot of people from doing things. “How do you DO that?” is such a common question, not in the “How do the mechanics of that work” way but, rather, with an utter wonderment that you could pick up something you’re not already good at, and learn it. Whether it’s something outside your field in science, or a new craft, people are afraid to step out of their comfort zone, to be beginners again.
And as such, they forget that when a kid’s learning to ride a bike you don’t say “Oh, it’s totally riding a bike if you fall off every three feet.” they say, “Wow, you made it FOUR WHOLE FEET this time, that’s like twice what you did before! Try to hold the handlebars steady and I bet you can make it like TEN feet next time!”
And that’s not just ok, that’s how you learn to actually ride a bike, without falling down.
I think I use “if I wanted perfect yarn, I’d go to Wal-Mart,” in a different capacity. I say that because I DON’T want perfect yarn – I want MY yarn. And that’s the reason I spin.
I think spinning was one of the hardest things I learned, but I’m so glad I taught myself and didn’t know anyone else who spun at the time. I think I would have been really discouraged if I had seen people just whip along, ounce after ounce. I have a hard time teaching people now because I don’t want to be all, “It’s beautiful!” when, really, you need a lot more practice. That’s not fair to the new spinner. The best advice I was ever given was to spin for 10 minutes every day. So when someone’s having problems, that’s the only thing I say.
Right on, Abby. Right on!
I love you.
There’s a definite pressure in this culture (which is the only one I know, so maybe elsewhere too) that you only show your perfect efforts. You don’t show the practice, you don’t show the imperfect, and if you can’t achieve perfect, you don’t do it in public. And for god’s sake don’t brag. I like the idea that it’s okay to work hard, to do things that aren’t perfect in the quest to learn, to look less than a master, and when you’ve achieved something wonderful, to be able to say with pride, “*I* did this, and it rocks.”
Amen, and preach it sister Abby. I find myself (‘guilty’? is that even the right word?) of overpraising new spinners because I don’t want to turn them off, but you’re right in that there’s a difference between telling them things are a-OK and that that’s good effort, but there’s more learning to be done…
I love what you have written. I has caused me to reassess what I have said to many beginners. Thank you for that. Let’s all revel in the new stages of growth.
There was a recent post on Making Light that touches on some of these very concepts: Permission to Suck. Lots of great insight in the comments, too.
I know that perfectionism is a huge part of my current roadblock with spinning–occasionally I can let it go and actually churn out yarn at a pretty good clip (for me), but most of the time? I feel paralyzed that I’m not able to achieve what’s in my head with my hands. But the only way for me to get there is to suck until I don’t suck anymore. And that’s hard as hell for me to wrap my head around. Gah.
One of my biggest peeves is the “hold onto that yarn because once you learn to spin you’ll never be able to spin that yarn again”
Seriously? You want to repeat that yarn that is over twisted in some spots and drifts apart in others?
I know what they mean. They’ve gotten so good at their comfort zone yarn that the thick and thin yarn that takes a lot of control to make feels like it is out of their grasp. But that is a lie too.
I’ve been taking spinning classes for over 8 years now and I always learn something new. There’s nothing in spinning that I think is out of my grasp but if I would have listened to those ladies at the guild at the very first I would have thought that all I could ever do was a two ply sock weight yarn because that is my comfort zone (even though I hate knitting socks)
So when I have a new student who repeats this “can’t ever do it again” to me, I climb onto my soap box and explain how, if they practice a wide variety of yarns, and avoid getting into that rut, they can spin anything they want forever!
Then i climb down and we continue with the lesson where I abuse them until they get it. (Kidding)
Yes and yes!
I would add that it is entirely possible to praise and encourage new spinners without lying to them, and that can and should be done!
Thank you for this post!
(People do that with children’s artwork too… what an interesting and not very honest culture we have)
I feel strange teaching people how to spindle as I have so much to learn. And yet… I do it because if I don’t, most likely no one else will.
There’s a lot out there to learn about spinning. Like so many things, the more I learn, the more I realize I have to learn. And I love it that way.
My first yarn prompted a few extra lessons on drafting from my teacher, I’d spun super-bulky on a 1oz spindle, but it was yarn and I felt like Dr Frankenstein after the monster sat up. “It’s yarn! It’s alive!” I love seeing that look on someone’s face, “I MADE that.”
I was teaching a friend to spindle spin in a coffee shop and two engineering students next to us just stopped and stared, they said “There’s something amazing going on next to us” and wanted to keep watching. I think it never occurred to them you could MAKE yarn, especially from a silk hankie. Someone else stopped and assumed we were taking stuff from the spindle and turning it into the hankie, she couldn’t fathom why we would want to make either. People seem shocked that there are people who can actually spin fibre into yarn.
Wow. Nicely said, Abby. I confess freely that I’m guilty of having said similar things to a beginning spinner, but I’m going to compensate by emailing her this blog post and telling her to defer to your superior knowledge of the subject.
Your points about master vs. beginner are well-taken, and remind me of something I heard recently: that a masterpiece has to be a success; if you mess it up, it’s ruined. But a master WORK can be an utter failure and still be a learning process that, in turn, promotes more masterful work.
We in this culture are used to standing on he shoulders of genius and calling ourselves educated. Life is not like RISK – one cannot simply declare victory and have it be so. We are taught that failure is not an option, and so we don’t learn to really learn. Thanks for reminding me that failure and process are inextricably linked.
Being able to learn is one of the best parts about being human.
This is not only true of spinning, but true of just about every pursuit. One of the joys of the process is witnessing the development of your craft and spirit as things move towards mastery. Well said.
I’ll jump in here, too. I’ve found in many cases that people who are just starting out, don’t really WANT to learn. I had a conversation on Rav once with a woman who was teaching other beginners that the best thing to do is to predraft your fibre to the thickness you want it to be in the end, and then just use the wheel to add twist.
I disagreed with that because while I agree that some fibre needs to be predrafted to a point, to loosen it up and enable it to be spinnable fibre, sure. Most hand-dyed top gets compacted and could use this predrafting. Or, you might want to split up your fibre according to colour and predraft that way. However, I’m against simply predrafting your fibre to its final thickness and then simply adding twist at the wheel. I think it’s important to learn to draft AT THE WHEEL or AT THE SPINDLE and once a spinner understands the art of drafting itself, whole worlds open up to the spinner.
My comment was poorly received because it was taken to mean that my advice meant that I was telling the spinner she was doing something “wrong” and there is no “right or wrong way” to spin.
I don’t mean to tell anyone they are right or wrong. I just wanted to share that the art of spinning is a very vast one and for every door you open for yourself, you create many more doorways that your newly-learned skill make possible.
The “Art Yarn Defense” is a sort of tongue-in-cheek encouragement to a beginner who is grossed out by her first efforts, as I was. It was many years and a tiny free spindle tucked into a handful of alpaca I bought for experimental Barbie customization before I took up spinning again, this time for the long haul! (Lots of bald dollies still waiting for rehab…)
I wouldn’t say that kind of thing to a kid, though; they take things too literally, and to heart.
Yes, oh yes— Honor must be given to the process and the fact that even good teaching can’t give experience to someone without the student spending time over a prolonged period to learn what something like spinning feels like (and I don’t think this holds only for things with a tactile component, but is true intellectually too—you have to play with ideas, experiment and make them one’s own.) People too often feel if something takes time then they have failed or don’t have an aptitude for it—which i think is a current cultural fallacy.
Secondly, while eventually (and having spun for a year I am surprised that eventually is coming sooner than i would have thought) good handspun can certainly be better than machine made—and joyously can mean creating something from one’s mind’s eye that hasn’t existed elsewhere before—-I also think that spinning allows pleasure in creating without having to be or pretend to be at the expert level I am not sure I am being clear—I am often a perfectionist and once only pursued areas in which I could excel. Of course, that meant there were whole areas I wouldn’t try. At one wonderful moment I realized that I could learn to ski as an adult and enjoy skiing, knowing that there is NO chance I will get expert at it—I can enjoy it, I can continue to learn, but it is ok to be so-so. I am not sure where my spinning will go in the future but I know that given the time I have for it, I will be content to enjoy it and to imperfectly create the yarn i envision and want to pet in the skein, knit or weave. And I love that the serious spinning community has room for beginners, intermediates, experts and the transcendental spinners among us.
Sorry…no debate here. You’ve beautifully articulated 3 of my pet peeves in the perceptions of others about spinning.
Now here’s two more for you to tackle:
1. People wanting to spin dryer lint and pill bottle cotton.
2. The role of fiber preparation in the yarn product.
That WalMart-style comment makes me shake my head every time.
My response is, “Yes, and you can buy a burger at McDonalds for a dollar. So why do you waste your time and money making Thanksgiving Dinner for your family? You can get food at McDonalds for cheaper.”
First, I taught myself to spin. I made cool yarn.
Ten years later, I took lessons, I learned good fiber prep. It improved my yarn. I made good yarn.
Now I spin because I’m in a relationship.
It’s not about the yarn any more. It’s about me and the twist. Thats my other half now. Yarn is the by product. It’s fun to have around, but it’s more about the act of putting twist in fiber. It’s all zen like now.
It is so…. is so. Yes it is. Yup. shut up, is so.
Anything worth doing is worth working hard for.
I totally agree with everything you’ve said, both as a teacher and a student.
I have been spinning for almost a year now and I absolutely REVEL in being a beginner. Every time I sit down at a wheel I learn something new and I don’t see that changing any time soon. I expect to be a beginner for the rest of my life. I am enjoying the process and the product and the infinite variations in both.
And now I am going to do a post on Ravelry that I have been putting off as being “too beginnery”
I have loved each of your posts on learning and teaching. Thanks for keeping on thinking about it and articulating it. I also see thesee processes and the comments that come from them at work and see them as damaging to learners.
Agreed. I just realised that a big part of why I like to learn new things is the feeling when you are a beginner and get it for the first time!
Also, as a beginner I have a permission to suck, so if something goes wrong that’s ok and you can try again, which is relaxing. After becoming better at something I tend to become more self-critical – learning to see what’s wrong is a part of the learning process, but it’s a frustrating part.
On another note, after all that buzz on Ravelry about Andean weaving and courses on the other side of the world where I can’t go and weaving in general being Teh Awsum, I rigged up a string heddle/shed stick band loom last night and could not go to sleep before getting the first (traditional Finnish) pick-up pattern repeat done. Warped with handspun, too, it was thin, crummily plied and available, great for experimentation. Thank you for the inspiration – the whole thing took ages, the result sucks so far, and I love it!
p.s. The term “precious handspun” is making me twitch nowadays, so it was very satisfying to look at my stuff as just yarn and cut it up.
I have said this many times when I’m teaching – in western society only children are allowed to be beginners. Adults should be ‘good’ at what they are doing, and if not, they shouldn’t be doing it. This seems to apply to almost everything, but especially arts and crafts – painting, drawing, textile skills. Unless it’s ‘marketable’ (whether you’re going to or not) or of a high standard, most people can’t understand why you would waste time learning.
It’s appallingly sad.
Well, something must be wrong with me (but then, I’m German and live in France): I LOVE learning new things – it’s much easier (and more fun) to go from absolute beginner to reasonably competent than from competent to master. Unfortunately sometimes competent is just not good enough…
But I generally dislike the term “art yarn”. Apart from the fact that I still don’t know what art is (Peter Collingwood may have gotten it right when he said: “Artist is a title conferred by posterity.”), for me yarn is a raw material. Like paint. Or a block of stone. An artist may make art using yarn (with the above reservation), but I won’t call the yarn itself “art”. What happened to “novelty yarns”, “designer yarns”, “effect yarns”?
Happy spinning! Klara
The best thing about your posts is that they get me thinking. So, I’m thinking that the Western countries are in such an odd situation with spinning. It was a survival craft for our ancestors. It is no longer so. It is something that would have been learned as a child. The beginners were children, as you were. So now we are beginners as adults, and those who aren’t beginners are speaking to beginners who are adults. While many of you have been doing this spinning thing for a long time, there is currently a huge influx of adults who are total beginners at it. So we have to learn to be beginners not only at the craft, but at teaching and encouraging beginners at the craft. Just as our spinning is beginner spinning, so our encouragement is beginner encouragement. And sometimes we suck at both.
I feel I’ve been dealing with this forever. As a child and young adult, I was a good student and a good singer. Because I didn’t go out and slay the world, many adults in my life treated me as if I’d somehow failed since I never specialized in one thing. I have many interests and love to learn. I admit I wander from thing to thing with a sense of abandon at times. When I reached my mid thirties, I finally responded with, “What I excel at is doing many things well.” I am now in my late 50′s. I started spinning in ’03, after having told a friend, “You will never find me doing that” Now, I have a small y
Oops… yarn and fiber dyeing business. I keep on learning. I grow. I encourage others to do the same.
I don’t anticipate ever being done with this learning process. I am adept at some things. I grapple with others. Most of the time, I laugh either way. It’s all good.
I must say I love being a beginner. The beginner stage is much like a honeymoon.. you get the joy of discovery, the time to just sit back and experiment and enjoy playing around. All with out the pressure to know, to perform, to be responsible for what you are doing and what it will bring in the future.
I love being a beginner so much that whenever I start to enter that state of feeling I must be responsible for my results I often shake things up by learning something new. I first learned to crochet. When I started to feel competent enough with it that I was getting critical of my work I decided to learn to knit. Then I started learning different knitting methods.. long tail vs knit cast on, continental vs throwing, socks, felting, lace, fair aisle. Then I decided to learn to spindle, and make my own spindles, and plying methods, and spining various weights of yarn, and so on.
I hand sew also. And embroider.
I’m thinking I should be a beginner for quite some time. And if I ever find myself getting to good a something I can always get a wheel, or take up bobbin lace or tatting……..
Nope, no beginner phobia here. I’m just the opposite, I have a fear of getting to good and settling into that “expert” slot that would restrict my creativity. Someday I may have to work through that and try to get really good at something. But for now being a beginner is just to much fun!
Thank you Abby. I am proud to be a beginning spinner.
I’m just learning to spin and one of the reasons I’m taking it up is to have the fun of being a beginner again.
When I learned to knit 10 years ago I was so excited. About the yarn and the books and the tools and I couldn’t get enough of classes and Stitches and get togethers.
All of which I still enjoy, but I’ve reached a level of expertise with knitting (intermediate/advanced) that’s enough for me and I want to regain some of the excitement in challenging myself with new skills and new reasons to ask “Why” and “Why not?”.
I’ve decided I’ll learn a new craft in-depth every 5 years; the next one will be weaving.
This is really liberating to read; thank you. I’m quite a new spinner (working on, oh, my 3rd or 4th skein now?) but I’m already finding myself settling into a comfort zone, despite still knowing very little about the process and results of working within that “space.” It takes a leap of faith to realise that the monetary investment I’ve made in spinning (already too much for a student to really afford!) should/will ultimately translate into an investment in these new skills I’m learning, even at the “expense” of not beefing up my handspun yarn stash as quickly or proficiently as I dream about.
thanks for the post–now i can stop feeling bad about being a (self-taught) beginner for the past three years!
I have to laugh. I was in a Sheep to Shawl contest when I had only be spinning for a few months. They needed another spinner(we have a very small guild) so I said I would do it. I got there and one of the ladies was having a fit about this isn’t for beginners and I shouldn’t be there. I said down and did my spinning and pretty much kept out with the other spinner in my group. I had the last laugh because in the end our shawl won. The complainer lady was made and said that was wrong because they had a beginner. Oh well.
A good soap box Abby and I like a good soap box. It helps to clear things up including our attitudes. I believe that learning is a life-long pursuit. Each fleece has its own personality just as the sheep it came from has its own personality too. That’s one of the wonderful things about spinning, we’re constantly working with something different and having new beginnings. It keeps me humble, happy challenged and energized as I produce something useful, imperfect and beautiful. I’ll be fulfilled with that regardless of the comments I may get.
Keep on spinning!
I have only recently found your site and been spinning for about a month. I appreciate your views and thoroughly enjoyed reading your blog and watching your videos as I am teaching myself spindle spinning.
I have been a beginner at many things over the years and getting comfortable with the process and the results is one of most rewarding things I do. I have learned to train horses and some dressage, x-country ski, knit, crochet, tai chi, milk a cow and make butter and cheese, growing perennials and running my own nursery, learning to invest retirement money, bake bread etc. If you aren’t willing to feel discouraged and like a total failure many times in the process I don’t think you can ever progress to competency. I think too many people get discouraged early on because they think short term failure means you’ll never get it. My first yarns are being cut up and used to wrap my improving skeins. I have no clue when I’ll make a whole skein of yarn I approve of but don’t care as I can always wear what I knit around the farm.
I won’t call myself a master or expert at any of this, but some things I know how to do well enough to suit myself. Sock yarn. Worsted weight low-twist singles. I’m not a beginner there.
But the exciting part of all of these fiber skills I’m trying to acquire, in knitting and spinning, is I’m a beginner at SOMETHING forever. I’ll never have done everything or mastered even most things. So it’s a constantly challenging and mentally stimulating process, thank goodness! Never boring!
Thank you so much for this post. Before I learned to spin I read everything I could and was very annoyed by the “if you want perfect yarn…” thing. I never liked to find excuses for things I was doing wrong or not putting my best effort into. What’s the use of learning something and being satisfied with less than good results. I want perfection and even though I know this is almost impossible it’s what drives me to keep on learning and pushing my skills.
As for not being able to reproduce my first yarn. Well, I could, if I wanted to, but that is not my goal.
Fabulous soapbox, Abby. I too have been guilty of the art yarn comments to beginners. Your article helped me to realise what I’m really saying.
Love the Zen references, that really strikes home. Thanks for your inspiration.
Ole! =)
BRAVA! Agree, agree, agree! (I’ve been spinning for about 20 years, and I STILL get the “why don’t you buy it.”
)
You are my hero!
Oh yes! The looks I got as a total novice (first day actually managing to spin on a drop spindle), walking round a sampling session spinning down fibres on a standard spindle, suspended, were priceless. However, I managed several samples that, while they weren’t perfect or particularly thin, I would have been quite happy to have a scarf made out of. But everyone knows that cashmere or camel-down must be spun carefully, fine and supported, not long-drawn into a two-ply heavy aran-weight. There are sound reasons for learning to spin supported-and-fine for down-fibres (cost springs to mind!, also it’ll be much easier for finer threads), but they’re not because other ways aren’t possible. Of course, I had to try it with my chunky beginner spindle supported on my thigh – I managed a respectable high-twist cotton single thus.
Great statement – has made me think hard about comments I make to new spinners. You are right – all being said in a supportive way, but on the other hand misleading.
As far as always being a beginner – that’s me. After all these years of spinning, I am still learning – thank goodness.
Hello Abby
I really appreciate everything you said about how people despise beginners and how everyone is supposed to master everything they do.
I wanted to thank you because with you video on spindle spinning, I managed to spin 25g of merino tops this afternoon. Thank you very much ! (I’ll spin another 25 g and then have a deep look at your video on plying)
In my opinion, you can never learn too much. I taught myself to spin over 30 years ago. Saw a wheel in a yarn shop window and bought it. Then went on to buy sheep and started a small farm so I would have access to fiber. I now have 7 wheels and they are all beautiful and quirky at the same time. I only started spinning on spindles the last 5 years or so. My spindle collection numbers about 25/30. Each and every one is unique and useful for a specific purpose. Every time I see a new book or video that I think might teach me something new or how to do something better, I buy it. With all the exotic fibers now being readily available, I purchase what I think I would enjoy learning how to spin. Point being, I am still very much a beginner. My resulting handspun is mine and mine alone, never to be compared with machine made yarn and up to the task of scrutiny of both wanted and unwanted opinions of other spinners. (The most hurtful comment I received was from a spinner who commented that she wished she could spin thick yarn like mine. The yarn on the bobbin was quite thin, strong, and well structured and I took offense.) I love learning and will continue to learn.
I love the idea of always being a beginner. There is always something new for us to learn in life! I almost didn’t learn to spin because of the vendor I bought my first spindle kit from. I asked how much yarn I would be able to make from the kit. The vendor and his friend laughed at me and said “You’ll be lucky to make any at all!! You’ll just make some lumpy rope!” I felt like I should return the kit I just bought and give up before I tried! Thankfully the vendor and friend are the exception in the spinning world. I have since found people who thought my “rope” was beautiful!
Awesome post!
I’m a person who likes to do things well, so I can identify with the mindset of people who want to get out of the rank beginner stage as quickly as possible
I don’t feel that being a beginner is devalued in American culture; I feel that being American means striving to better yourself, no matter what you do. In my experience this does not mean that beginners are worthless worms, but that they are *beginners* – people closer to the beginning of a journey than the end. That’s all.
What you’re describing as beginner spirit is what I think of as adventurous spirit. Beginners can be as hidebound as people who have been doing something for years; it takes adventurousness to try to go down a scary path, no matter how long you’ve been doing something.
As for the “beginner yarn is art yarn”, I figured that was just a way of seeing the good parts in a poor product. Like if you made a misshapen pot but the glaze turned out beautifully. The pot may not be used the way you planned, but you will have learned something from it.