Knitting is an art between. It is often taught and learned between women — my mother taught me how to knit, and she learned from her grandmother. The finished objects pass between friends and family, as gifts, heirlooms, and memories, and the craft itself happens between the other tasks of daily life, as when sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office. In theory, too, knitting is about inhabiting the space between — from imagination to actualization, knitters spend most of their time with the stitches that form incomplete objects whose potential is realized most beautifully only after conversation and deliberation between knitters and/or the intended recipients of knitted objects.
I began knitting when I started graduate school in Charlottesville, Virginia. My mother came to visit and bought me yarn and needles. She taught me how to knit, but not how to purl — as she was on her way out the door to catch a plane, she said, "Purling is the opposite of knitting. Figure it out." I didn't figure it out, or at least not on my own. Rather, I started going regularly to my local yarn shop, where I sat at a big wooden table with women I didn't know and marveled at the things they made, asking questions and imagining the things I might make.
Six years later, I know all of the women around the table, and sometimes I even teach (knitting and purling) at that same table. This blog is a repository for many of the things shared between women at the knitting table — ideas, patterns, tips, finished objects, stories — while also serving to document my creative life as a knitter. I often feature my sweet puppy, Raii, who can also be found regularly in her bed by that same table at The Needle Lady in downtown C'Ville.
Unless otherwise indicated, all photos on this website are my own.