There are aspects of knitting that seem, to me, to be a little cultish.

Or at least that's what I started thinking today as I was browsing Ravelry project pages. There are people whose project pages are full of washcloths or cowls, or others still whose pages exhibit lace shawls exclusively. Then of course there are Sock Knitters-- reigning queens(or kings) of the cult-ey exclusive knitters.

As hard as I try, I just don't understand the dedication of these monotype knitters. It's hard enough for me to crank out one lace piece, let alone fifty of them. And beleive me, the moment I finish a lace something-or-other I cast on immediately for something gratifyingly solid, brainless, maybe even wholly garter stitch. And the washcloths... I understand that they're a fantastic way to use up extra fiber or even make a biggish swatch worthwhile, but WASHCLOTHS? My brain cringes at the thought of putting anything I hand crafted (and most likely spent a couple of hours on) in a sink full of dirty, scummy dishes. I suppose I'd be a little more okay with knitted washcloths if they were used for shower purposes only, but even then I can't help but think "The only person who will ever see this is me, naked."

But the beauty of art and craft is that it's neither black nor white. Just because I, personally, could never turn myself into a little sock knitting sweatshop doesn't mean that someone who loves knitting socks can't do so exclusively. And who's to say that the little lace forays I make are any less valuable than the impressive, blind-nun-like lace that others dedicate themselves to? We knit what we love, and for that I respect people who have found something they love so much that they knit solely that type of item. Me... I love everything and want to knit everything. Wait, is that why I'm casting on for a pair of sleeping underwear? (Nope, I'm just nuts...)

This subjectivity is one of the reasons I love knitting, and I'm finding that it's one of the reasons I'm beginning to love painting, too. I'd never really seriously painted before, but thanks to a class at my local community college I've been able to dabble lately. I'm really my only critic; one of the things I love most about the class is when a peer comes over to survey my work--work that I feel falls short of my expectations--and looks at it with fresh eyes, seeing my success instead of my mistakes. It's just like me looking at pages and pages of knitted lace and socks and seeing only beautiful objects instead of a slipped stitch here or a missing yarn-over there.

In sum: boy do I love art.

(p.s. painting is still a work in progress)