As an avid knitter, I frequently unraveled my own sweaters, recycled the yarn and knit up a different pattern. The unraveling took on a life of its own both during and after art school, and in 2012, I opened a small yarn company, selling primarily at local fairs and markets.

The more I work with reclaiming and recycling yarn, the more aware I become of the back story, the history that each yarn carries. From the sheep, the goat, the silk worm, the rabbit comes a material that is processed, a yarn that is spun, a garment that is knit, marketed and sold, worn, and then, astoundingly, discarded.

Each discarded machine-knit sweater that I work with is unraveled, scoured, plied and dyed; all fiber, roving, or top that I've collected is spun, combined. This process isn't one I control, but rather, a joyously unpredictable one. That excitement of discovery is now yours, as you continue the yarn's story.

I dye outside when weather permits or in the greenhouse, the spinning in the studio, and, as you'd imagine, the raveling - everywhere.