Look at just how far you've come

Thoughts on trying to measure the enjoyment we get from knitting

Last week, I shared Jeff’s Groovy 70s Socks with you. I photographed them in this lovely little photography studio just across the bay from where I live. I had some extra time on my studio booking, so I took some self-portraits. This is one of them.

If you’ve been around these parts for a while, you know how important I think it is to make things by hand. Every day.

I hope you can spend a little (or a lot of) time today knitting or crocheting. I hope you can sew something, by hand or machine, if that’s what you love to do. Or bake for pleasure. Or use your hands to bend wire, or tinker with clay, or dig in the dirt. Something tactile, whether messy or neat, whether you’re making something “beautiful” or “ugly”.

Making things by hand has been nourishing and life-giving for me, and I think it’s the same for you.

Sometimes, when I’m visiting the socials (Instagram or Ravelry or really anywhere knitters might gather, online or off), I can forget that the point of making something is joy. My own, personal feeling of being lit up inside. It’s not about showing it to other people. It’s not about having the most finished object photos, or the most likes, or the most favorites. It’s about that quiet part inside that says: I made this. With my own two hands.

This feeling of pleasurable making, just for myself, often happens when I’m learning something new and am tenaciously trying to master it. I might not have anything to show for my efforts because I’m ripping out my (knitting) work and trying again. Or I might have something that looks like a hot mess because I’m still learning. And sometimes, I might be making something so beautiful that I can hardly keep making it because I keep stopping to admire it. And I think to myself: Look at what my hands can do!

This week, I’ve been learning one-color and two-color brioche stitch. I’ve knit a few brioche projects before, but it’s not a technique I use often. There are so many parts of brioche that make me feel slow and clunky: trying to read a brioche chart, understanding the gauge that will make a fabric I like, simply working the stitches and remembering where to have my yarn (in front? in back?).

I stuck with it, though, ripping out so much knitting, day after day, all week long.

And here I am, “just” one week later, amazed at what my hands can do. Once again, sticking with something and encouraging myself to keep going through the low points helped lead me to a good place.

I’m not a brioche master, but I’ve learned it on the small project I’m working. My brioche fabric is not as tidy as some others might be able to make, but I’ve learned enough to make the really cute little thing I wanted to make. I learned what worked for me—and what didn’t.

It occurs to me that making something by hand teaches us all kinds of great things. Like persistence, because making something by hand is almost always slower than buying it in a store. It also teaches that we’re competent. It embeds the feeling of competence in our bodies, so even if we aren’t thinking we’re good at something, our hands know we are.

And my favorite way to make something is to knit. So that’s just what I’ll be doing more of today.