I find Birgitta’s work with crochet—a medium that has never held any appeal for me—very inspiring. I remember hiding a particularly insipid and shapeless crochet sweater and matching scarf in a...
I find Birgitta’s work with crochet—a medium that has never held any appeal for me—very inspiring. I remember hiding a particularly insipid and shapeless crochet sweater and matching scarf in a nauseating combination of pink and green and lilac pastel shades gifted to me by a well-meaning friend of my grandmother in my closet. Having seen this, I will now think of crochet more like I do the violin—squeal-y and horrible in the hands of a novice, but resonant and rich under the persuasion of talented fingers.
I find Birgitta’s work with crochet—a medium that has never held any appeal for me—very inspiring. I remember hiding a particularly insipid and shapeless crochet sweater and matching scarf in a nauseating combination of pink and green and lilac pastel shades gifted to me by a well-meaning friend of my grandmother in my closet. Having seen this, I will now think of crochet more like I do the violin—squeal-y and horrible in the hands of a novice, but resonant and rich under the persuasion of talented fingers.