Why knitting matters
Whether you knit for joy, for the quiet soothing of stitches, or to forget that the world out there is on fire, it matters. Here's why.
There are so many reasons why we knit, crochet, stitch and sew.
Some of us do it because we love textiles and fiber, and the feeling of yarn running through our fingers is like a deep breath of hope.
Some of us do it because we like making clothes for ourselves, whether it’s a cozy, cabled wool sweater to wear in the winter, or a filmy tank top knit from linen and cotton in the summer.
Some of us knit in the way Michelle Obama knits: to soothe an active brain and come back to a quiet feeling of calm.
And yet others of us knit and crochet because it’s a radical thing, in this world of fast fashion and fast food and low prices and gig work, to say I am going to make this by hand. I am going to make it by hand simply because I can, and I love taking the time to do so. This is a radical, beautiful thing, especially in a world that commodifies our attention.
To use our attention and our hands in a way that brings us joy matters, and it matters deeply.
Even if you don’t know why you knit or crochet or sew or embroider, even if you make things by hand for all of the reasons I mentioned, for none of the reasons I mentioned, or for things I haven’t even thought of … making things by hand is a radical statement.
I was reading this week that we are currently experiencing as much social change, and as rapidly, as people did in the Industrial Revolution when the production of goods moved from homes to factories and which ushered in capitalism the way we currently know it, where capital is concentrated in just a few hands and most of us sell our labor. I learned that we’re currently in the fourth Industrial Revolution where technology, robotics, and artificial intelligence is expanding and growing exponentially, rather than at the linear pace we typically experience change.
The magnitude is dizzying. It took (just) 20 years for telephones to go from those very first clunky land-line cordless phones (do you remember how you couldn’t go too far away from the base or the reception would get spotty?) and long-distance charges (forget international, so expensive), to something that fits in my pocket and where I can call friends in England as easily as I can call the corner deli to order a sandwich.
The pandemic ushered in even faster change—changes I am still adjusting to. Remote work (that thing I insisted was possible, way back in 2004) became not only possible but creates more value, in what felt like overnight in 2020. (Managers and employees have different views on “productivity” and if you’re a business geek like me, this article is a good read.)
I have a feeling that the pace of change is going to keep feeling really, really fast. This is where I think progressives and people on the far right of the political spectrum have something in common: we both feel the accelerating pace of social change and are reacting to it. It’s just that our reactions are very, very different.
This is why knitting matters. It’s not about what we knit, or why we crochet, or whether we are wearing what we’ve made. It matters that we sit and take time—precious, valuable, our one wild and precious life—to slowly and deliberately make something by hand. Something we could buy, or speed through, or otherwise consume. But we don’t. We wind a skein of yarn into a ball. We run the fiber through our fingers, and with needle or hook, we start making stitch after stitch, creating our own fabric. We turn those stitches into something useful or beautiful that can have a good, long life in our wardrobes or our homes.
When you or I knit, crochet, embroider or stitch, we are doing something that is radically counter-culture and deeply nourishing. It’s a statement about what we value. It’s slowing down and knowing that life is right here, now, in these stitches.
The pleasure of tiny, tiny stitches in the summer
My usual go-to summer knitting is a sock project. I love how portable socks are, especially during summers when my boy was smaller and we were often on-the-go with playdates, time spent at swimming pools, and visits with the grandparents. Since the pandemic and now that my boy is a teen (and oh, the particular loneliness of having a teenager!), I am not out-and-about as often, and I find myself wanting to make summer knitwear: cotton or linen tops, summer-weight tanks.
I am currently trying out a few summer yarn blends: a linen-silk, a wool and cotton, and an alpaca-linen-silk. I’m learning how to increase colorfastness on blended plant and animal fibers, making my own garments to test how they wash and wear, and just generally swatching to see how I like things.
The only downside of summer-weight garments is that they are tiny tiny stitches, so they feel like they take longer to knit. In reality, I’m willing to bet, they’re roughly the same number of stitches as full-sleeve sweaters in heavier gauges, but it just feels like it takes longer when you’re knitting a tank top on size 2.75mm needles, rather than a sweater on size 7 (4.5mm) needles.
I’m really curious to know if you’d like to come along with me on this exploration of summer-weight fibers? I have a good inventory right now of various things, and if you’re interested, I can dye some up to share.
Bookmarked kits & yarn (and Kittenish tank kits!) are back in the shop
I am working my way toward a weekly shop update (on Sundays, in tandem with this newsletter). I can’t say for sure that I’ll be doing it every Sunday, because the world remains unpredictable and things like wildfires, air quality, distressing warnings of potential political insurrections, you know, life in our current times, mean that I stay flexible, make plans, and am getting really good at pivoting while being gentle with myself. So I’ll say that I’m having a weekly-ISH shop update, and today is the first!
Kits for little knitted books with secret compartments! I last had these in the shop in November, and I’m delighted to restock them. The kits are in a slightly different format this time:
Kits to make the green book on top (formed around an Altoid-style tin)
Kits to make the brown book on bottom (formed around a Diamond matchbox-style sliding box)
I have yarn in quarter and half skeins, and a scant 3 bundles of the entire palette in quarter-skein format.
I have also restocked my all-sizes-one-price Kittenish Tank kits! These are luxe kits with all the yarn you need, two patterns (for extra value in case you have yarn left over), and the sweetest notions bundle ever.
A well-wish for today
No matter how your Sunday (and week) unfolds, I hope you have some quiet moments to think about how the world is changing and how you are holding fast to the things that matter. Quiet stitches, a deep breath, a moment seeing something beautiful in nature, a precious hand-made thing that you made and use every day. Your knitting, crocheting, and stitching matter.
Your writing it beautiful. Thoughtful and deeply felt.
I hadn’t thought of knitting as radical, but the act does counter what the capitalistic culture values (which of course commodifies the craft to the extent we let it).
Knitting matters to me because it connects across time and space. The Jane that knitted as a young, scared, lonely mother of a toddler is also the Jane who knitted through grad school, divorce, a change of career, a new marriage and is now the daughter who knits while her father dies. The yarn and needles, stitch by stitch, offer me escape while simultaneously making me present.
I love the connection to knitters of the past centuries, those who recreated nature and life in their stitches; those who wrapped their loved ones in warmth and beauty.
Life is about loss. Perhaps knitting is a stay against that.
I used to fear a massive grid failure, but now I think it might be a good thing. No internet for an extended period could help heal a whole lot of people. Thank you for your lovely thoughts on hand work. Resonates deeply with me! ♥