As a small child, I often spent time with my grandmother and our family friend Genevieve, listening to them talk about all manner of things while they crocheted and knit, respectively. At the time, I wasn’t particularly interested in the conversation, but I was fascinated with the intricacies of what they were doing with the yarn, pulling it around hooks and long slender needles at a quick pace and creating something beautiful and functional before my eyes.
I interrupted repeatedly to beg them to teach me their respective crafts. They finally acquiesced when I was about six, and the talents that they shared are gifts I still carry with me. I have been crocheting and knitting (although I tend to favor the latter) ever since; my most recent project was a pair of Norwegian mittens – knit in purple and gold, of course.
It wasn’t until later in my life, long after they both had passed away, that it occurred to me that they always stuck to their own craft and never taught one another. I’ll never know why that was the case, but I suspect that working yarn alongside one another was more about other things than about their technique. It certainly has become that for me.
The joy of knitting
On one level (and with the benefit of decades of practice), I find the repetitive motions of knitting to be so soothing that I often knit just before going to sleep to clear my mind and ready myself for the next day. But most of the joy that I experience from knitting is through the different forms of connection that it creates.
One form of connection is gifting the things I make to important people in my life as a symbol of my affection for them. A hat for a friend going through treatment for cancer. A blanket for my niece who is welcoming a new baby. A poncho for a favorite cousin. A scarf for my oldest and dearest friend for her birthday. A sweater for my husband. Sock monkeys for our sons.
To knit is to teach
A second form of connection is sharing something that I enjoy by teaching it to others. I taught each of my sons to knit when they were about five; and during the pandemic, we all taught my husband, who produced a very fine hat that he proudly wears to this day. I am currently in the process of teaching a friend, who, much to my delight, has quickly mastered stitching as he works on a scarf.
Knitting in community
A third form of connection is immediate awareness of a shared interest. I’ve been approached in airports by strangers who notice that I’ve knit something that I’m wearing. And I have done the same, including on our campuses – during a visit to the iSchool, in the midst of a tour of the new residence halls on the Bothell campus, while attending the UW Facilities all hands BBQ, and during a recent meeting in my office with a faculty member from the College of Arts & Sciences.
But my greatest joy in knitting comes from the context in which I was first introduced to this craft. To knit with others, whether you’ve just met or have known them a lifetime, is to be in community.
Fortunately, knitters are everywhere – even on the UW’s Faculty Field Tour, a yearly bus trip to introduce new faculty to our state. In addition to seeing the UW’s impact first-hand across the state, the Faculty Field Tour is a chance for UW leaders and new faculty to get to know each other and to make the connections across disciplines that can spark collaboration and creativity.
Knitting in science
At the introductory meeting for last year’s trip, I immediately noticed from across the room that one of my fellow travelers – Gilbert Bernstein, a faculty member in the Allen School of Computer Science & Engineering – was knitting! As we knit and talked together on the bus throughout the tour, I learned about Gilbert’s work in computer graphics and programming languages, and how he is applying his disciplinary expertise to, among other things, the programming of knitting machines. Gilbert had taught himself to knit during the pandemic, and throughout our conversation, I saw knitting in a whole new light – as an interesting programming problem.
Later that summer, I toured the Programming Languages and Software Engineering Lab and learned more about his work – along with fellow knitters Mia Tuan, dean of the College of Education, and Nicole Bell and Rachel Northquist on my team. Our conversation explored the similarities and differences between how textiles are created by hand and by machine and the computational approaches used to circumvent the constraints introduced by the topology of the yarn and the structure of the machine in mass production. A highlight of the lab tour was the opportunity to join a fiber arts circle and to be in conversation for an hour or so with faculty and students in the Allen School (read: I’d love to visit your knitting circle – please invite me!)
Connecting through shared interests and curiosity
While I have been writing about knitting in this blog post, I hope that you will see it as just one example of an unexpected way to tap into the infinite opportunities at our university. We tend to be aware of the interesting things that are happening closest to us; but in reality, they exist all across the University. Afterall, we are a community that derives inspiration from curiosity and shares a drive to learn more about the world around us. Connecting with one another around shared interests outside of our primary roles can enrich our experiences as members of this community in ways that we would have never predicted.
I encourage you to explore new ways to connect with one another this year by joining an interest or affinity group or attending an event on the Seattle, Bothell or Tacoma campuses, and striking up a conversation with someone new. And if you are unsure of where to start, just pull out some needles and yarn, and we knitters will find you.