Why do you need that many knitting needles?
Each Wednesday, I post a snapshot of the projects I’m working on, and where my brain is at.
This week, I’m still knitting away on my free-form stockinette thing. What it will become is still to-be-determined. And I’m still finding the act of curling string into loops incredibly comforting in it’s consistency.
I still have a pile of ends to weave in. But today, I wanted to write about materials, and how they influence our experience of making.
Because this week, I switched my project from wooden knitting needles to metal ones, and it’s making for an exponentially more enjoyable knitting experience.
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I have a lot of knitting needles. And a lot of sewing needles. And a lot of scissors.
(Not to mention a lot of fabric, fiber, yarn, clothes, books, and papers.)
Occasionally, someone (usually a “non-maker” aka muggle) will comment on the multitudes that I have.
“Do you really need that much yarn? That much fabric?”
“How many scissors?”
“Metal, AND wood, AND plastic knitting needles? How many sizes?”
And the answer is “of course.”
Of course, I have that much yarn, that much fabric, that many scissors, needles in many types.
Could I stand to let go of some things? Of course, who couldn’t?
Will I still have many, and multitudes? Of course I will, I make things out of stuff.
I make things out of stuff, and making requires materials plus tools.
And the tools we use make a difference in how we experience the making.
Can you knit something beautiful if your yarn catches on your needles? Of course you can.
Will the experience of knitting that something be enjoyable? Not so much.
And ultimately, making is a much about the process of making the object, as it is about the object you end up with.
Knitting as a way to make sense of the world.
Each Wednesday, I post a snapshot of the projects I’m working on, and where my brain is at.
Knitting something just to knit.
At this point, I’ve been knitting* for most of my life.
*and sewing, and embroidering, and generally making things with fabrics & fibers.
It hasn’t always been a consistent relationship, we’ve had our ebbs and flows, our ups and downs. But it has always been a constant one.
There’s something incredibly comforting, about the consistency of knitting.
Things have changed about my relationship to knitting (I’d say any relationship in which absolutely nothing has changed in a couple decades might not be healthy) – what I knit changes, what yarn I use changes, how I knit changes, why I knit changes.
But regardless of all that, the comfort I get from knitting remains consistent.
Yarn + Needles.
Shaping one loop, after one loop, after one loop, into rows.
Stacking one row, after one row, after one row, into inches.
Working one inch, after one inch, after one inch, into fabric.
Yarn + Needles + Effort + Time + Patience = Knitting.
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This week, I’ve been knitting just for the sake of knitting.
Knitting as a way to remember what steadiness feels like.
Knitting as a way to pass the time, as time works it’s magic on grief.
Knitting as a way to escape when listening to friends who are afraid for their safety, leaves me numb.
Knitting as a way to find my footing again.
Knitting as a way to disengage – but only in order to reengage from a place where I have something to give.
So I cast on for a free-form something or other.
I’m not sure exactly what it will become. But it will become something steady & grounding.
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PS. Two heads ups…
First. I’m bringing back “To Read Over Coffee” – a weekly link round up that I love, but fell out of the habit of writing. I think there’s too much happening in the knitting/sewing/style/fashion places of the internet to not share, and make connections between.
Second. The updated, edited & revised version of Shawl Geometry Book One is coming imminently. This project got a bit disrupted by my move at the beginning of September, but I’m hoping I can get the first book into your hands before (US) Thanksgiving.
If you’ve already bought the book, (thank you!) just keep an eye on your inbox for the update.
If not, just keep an eye on this space (or sign up for my newsletter, and keep an eye on your inbox).
How to knit a sweater. This post is not about knitting. (Except in all the ways that it is).
Each Wednesday, I post a snapshot of the projects I’m working on, and where my brain is at.
What do you write on a knitting/sewing/style blog the morning after a US election?
What do you write on a knitting/sewing/style blog the morning after this US election?
Part of me says “say nothing, put this post off till tomorrow. No one will notice you missed this Wednesday.”
But I highly doubt I’ll figure out what to say by waiting till tomorrow.
And today is Wednesday. And each Wednesday, for longer than this election cycle has been going on, I have posted “a snapshot of the projects I’m working on, and where my brain is at.”
I’ve posted on weeks when it was easy, and I had a lot to say. On weeks I had nothing to say. On weeks when I forget that I always have something to say. On weeks I was traveling. And on weeks when I pulled a post together on my phone, in a cafe, hoping the person I was meeting would be just a little bit late. I’ve been here every Wednesday for over two years.
So here we are today.
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If there is one thing I know to be true, it’s that you can’t knit a sweater without knitting a sweater.
How to knit a sweater
Step 1: decide. prep. gather.
Step 2: start.
Step 3: continue.
Step 4: get interrupted.
Step 5: pick it back up.
Step 6: finish.
There is tremendous value in showing up.
Even when you’re not sure what to say. Even when you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck.
Show up. Be present. Invoke grace. Engage.
(It’s the only way to knit a sweater.)
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A vital part of showing up is taking care of yourself.
Leaning into connection, support, trust, community.
No matter where that support comes from – friends, family, neighbors, your school, place of faith, community center, facebook, twitter, a 24/7 lifeline – you are never alone.
Call a lifeline if you need to.
