Dying to Dye

My wife, a certified wooly woman, has got me hooked on the wool bug. Hmm... makes it sound like I have a fetish for weevils, but you know what I mean, right? That is, I've started to really enjoy working with wool as an art medium. My wife spins and knits. Knitting, to me, is like torture. It basically means trying to tie a long string of knots in such a way that the whole thing stays together. If that's not torture, it's at the very least tedious.

Spinning is fun - I'm not very good at it, but it's relaxing and enjoyable, and my wife gets to use the yarn I end up producing to make some money: a win-win.

But dying... oooh dying is fun. It's like painting with a dash of the unpredictable, some steam, and a little bit (but not too much) patience. Pictures to come. The best part is that the wool I dye ends up being spun by my wife, which changes it a bit, and then that is knit into patterns, which changes it even more. It is delightfully organic.