An interesting thing happens on knitting Instagram

Or, why it matters to share your values in quiet as well as explicit ways

An interesting thing is happening over on my Instagram at the moment, which is serving me a tiny microcosm of why I am doing this work I call “knitting art.”

Let me share the story with you …

I frequently share tidbits of my writing on Instagram but, increasingly, I’ve been sharing thoughts or ideas I’ve explored more fully here, on Substack. This space gives me room to really sink into the why of an idea and to make sure my values are reflected in it. Not to mention I simply have more room (and more characters) in my newsletter. It’s spacious, and quiet, and leisurely. Like Sunday mornings for many of us.

A few days ago, though, it was time for me to share a text post on Instagram (I’m building out a pretty little grid pattern on my profile page for the sole reason that it delights me). So, I decided to try out an underdeveloped thought I’ve been mulling, and that I’ll likely write a longer newsletter about—the idea that knitting matters.

I’m not fully sure, yet, exactly why knitting feels so important to those of us who claim knitter as part of our identity, but I know it’s true. It’s a thought that resonates deeply with me—that our knitting matters, especially when it’s an activity that’s so often derided in the press (not everyone who knits is old! but it’s still a grandma’s craft!). I rarely see knitting reflected back to me as something worthy.

So I wrote this small tidbit and posted it on Instagram:

You can see the full post + caption here.

It resonated with a lot of folks and, when that happens, the Instagram machine gets involved and started sharing it on other people’s Explore page. This post has gotten more likes than any post I’ve shared in about three years.

Good news for me, yes?

Maybe. And also maybe not.

Having a platform that grows is useful to me because it helps me build a community that can delight in my art in the way that feels good and supportive at any given time. In other words, some of you will be in a place of plenty and will really resonate with the art and perspective I share, so you’ll subscribe to my yarn club, or you may shop many of my yarn updates, or you may upgrade your newsletter subscription to paid. Some of you will be in a place of financial limitation, so you’ll read the newsletter regularly and feel nourished, or you might apply for a Community Fund grant. Most of you will be somewhere in between, and most of us will cycle in and out of different places of financial plenty or lack, uplifted and troubled times, happiness and sadness.

The knitters who shop every one of my updates right now won’t be the ones who shop every update always. So, I increasingly think of my art and business as an ecosystem: all the parts are important, and there also needs to be growth so that everyone can be free to move into different places, as needs and circumstances change. Growth keeps things stable for me, and it centers community and liberation for all of us.

Now back to the social media part of this story:

Instagram, in particular, used to be place where artists could share their work and build a following. Today, it’s more of a spot where ‘consuming content’ is the dominant force. When a post really resonates with your audience, Instagram starts showing it to more and more of your own followers and to folks who don’t follow you.

But here’s the thing. If I don’t also share my values—in explicit and subtle ways—then that one post full of feel-good, your knitting matters, vibes, gets consumed and used and shared in ways that doesn’t feel so great.

A majority of the folks who are sharing my post aren’t invested enough in my work to even start following me.

Some of the folks who are sharing my post seem to have a world view that’s more like white feminism. Which is, as brilliant author Rachel Cargle explains, “When feminism is white supremacy in heels.”

The engine of Instagram consumption does its job, but the only one who benefits is Instagram. “It is the consumer who is consumed,” said American sculptor and video artist Richard Serra and video artist Carlota Fay Schoolman in their seminal critique of mass media, a short video entitled “Television Delivers People,” made in 1973. Their words, usually credited only to Serra and erasing Schoolman’s contribution, are more popularly quoted as “if something is free, you’re the product”.

In so many of my newsletters and in my body of work—from my writing to my yarn to my kits—I try to be a counterbalance to the status quo. A small but steady heartbeat of work that says it’s okay to let the big forces of media, the oppressive parts of American culture, the whiteness that says white is the only way to be, it’s okay to let these things go. We can make spaces with a different kind of ethos. Space where knitting matters. Space where equity matters. Space where women who contribute to seminal art aren’t erased. Space where Black women thrive. Space where trans youth are safe in whatever gender expression they chose (or decline to choose).

And so, friends who have been here for a while and friends who are newly subscribed, these are my values and this is what my work is creating. It’s not as simple as a few words on Instagram, but, I hope, has depth and resonance and is a soft and nourishing place where we all can feel a bit of freedom from the status quo.

(And I’m left feeling a bit salty at the forces that turn my work into something to be superficially consumed, rather than the more nourishing work I intend it to be. If you’re here because you found me via that particular Instagram post, welcome. You are a counter balance too.)

A sweet, perfect little knitting kit to make something for the babies and toddlers in your life

The daughter of a friend recently had a baby, and in the birth announcement, she shared that the baby’s pronouns, for the time being, are she/them. The mom is queer, and they are particularly aware that gender and sexuality are personal, individual, and something that, when it isn’t what dominant culture tells us it should be, becomes a tender thing that can be used as a weapon to hurt.

It would be lovely if we all, especially those of us who are cis-gender and heterosexual, understood and expressed this nuance. Which is why I purchased this adorable onesie and used it in my kit photos.

It shares my values explicitly. I’ll share this image on Instagram in the coming week, and I’m willing to bet it won’t be shared as widely as my earlier post, but it will be a small beacon for folks who share our values of seeing nuance and building a community that protects and centers the needs of the most vulnerable. Not because it’s the ‘right’ thing to do, but because we are all protected when the people most vulnerable to harm are safe and free.

About this kit …

After a longish period of tending to my health and having very little in my shop, I’m shifting back into a rhythm of weekly shop updates with new yarn and kits. This week’s offering are kits to make this sweet little baby cardigan, the Baby Bandit cardigan, inspired by Peter Rabbit (and designed by the lovely Jacqueline Cieslak).

If you have a small person in your life, or are anticipating a new baby in your circle, this kit is the thing you want to be making:

I absolutely could not resist sharing this photo of Baby Nora modeling her Baby Bandit cardigan. Not only is she squishy delightful—do you see that little peek of button band facing that matches Nora’s pants? This kit will help you create an heirloom project for a beloved small person. They may be inheriting a world full of climate change, but we can let them know that small handmade things still matter, and they are worth it.

The kit looks like this, and I’m especially proud of how the packaging gets reused to gift your finished knitting:

I have both gendered and non-gendered yarn colors for you to choose from.

A well-wish for you

This Sunday, I hope you’ll have time to nourish yourself. To connect with the people and animals who love you, in whatever way feels nourishing to you. That may be ear scritches for your favorite dog, a text to a friend, or simply feeling the sunshine on your face and knowing that you are loved by this earth.