Ravelings: Knitting by the Seat of My Pants

In the premier issue of Interweave Knits in Fall of 1996, Meg Swansen shared the first Ravelings essay. Since then, every issue of Knits has had a personal essay from a member of the knitting community. Today, we’re sharing Meg’s words as she wrote them more than twenty-five years ago. It reminds us that we have power when we knit and the knitting bullies can be quiet.  

Knitting by the Seat of My Pants

The concept of being a designer and having a staff of knitters poised to execute my ideas sounds idyllic. However, my designs cannot coherently be transmitted to another knitter until the knitting part is finished. I call my method “knitting by the seat of my pants” because I may have a basic flight plan when I cast on, but only a rudimentary idea of where the design is going. My best ideas occur to me as I am knitting; something about the motion of my hands seems to set my brain in gear.

Not being enamored of useless bits of knitting, I obtain a gauge and check for color compatibility by knitting a cap or a sleeve, or even launching directly into the body (remaining spiritually prepared to rip). Most of my designs are worked from the lower edge, so I may cast on invisibly, and then choose the best edge treatment and adjust the final length after the garment is finished. Generally speaking, the main shaping excitement is around the yoke/armholes/neck area, and I can cogitate about that section—changing my mind many times over—as I am working up the body.

Design abilities increase in direct proportion to mastery of techniques. Once you are confidently in command, you can ignore the Knitting Bullies who love to tell you that “you’re holding your needles wrong,” or “that’s not the way you’re supposed to do that.” I do not believe there is any “wrong ” in knitting. If you are getting the results you want, you are doing it right. We should never turn a deaf ear to new methods but remember that useful suggestions usually come as just that—suggestions, not didactic criticism.  

Getting it Just Right

Over the years, I have bartered sweaters with other craftspeople, including a number of potters. They are easy to strike a barter with because they are usually shivering in an unheated potter’s shed and will most likely greet the prospect of a handknitted woolen sweater with a glad cry. On several occasions, I have witnessed perfectly beautiful bowls and cups smashed by their creator because the glaze had done unexpected things in the kiln. It didn’t “come out right.”

I think this attitude should be held to a minimum when it comes to knitting. There are times when you must rip, but if in following a pattern you inadvertently jog a stitch or two from the color chart, and your result does not match the beautiful photo, do not assume that what you have done is wrong. It may even be more beautiful than the original. The trick is to divorce the mental image you began with and look objectively at what you have produced. Your repeated “mistake” may indeed be a unique and lovely new design—even a breakthrough. If it pleases you, it is “right.”  

I recommend that you never confess to a mistake. If you have made an error that will glare at you each time you look at the garment, rip it out and re-knit it for your own peace of mind. However, if you’ve made a small fudge, or an unavoidable one, either don’t mention it at all or point it out as a Design Feature … after all, attitude is everything.  

Your Knitting Power

The more you follow your own ideas, the more you will realize that knitting is power. There is precious little over which one has total control; at least your knitting is your very own. You may pick and choose which features of a printed design to use and which to eschew. Select colors and fiber that appeal to you. Play with the numbers to make it work, transpose flat knitting into circular, or vice versa. You need take orders from no one. This subversive aspect of knitting appeals to me strongly.  

The key to achieving knitting power is, of course, knowledge. This is nothing new, and it applies to all aspects of life, to all the arts, and to every imaginable skill from bread-baking to rocket science. (Being a bread baker, I do not consider that activity menial.) It is the accumulation of techniques that permits you to soar creatively and gives you the total freedom to realize your own ideas.  

A finished garment is made up of countless little tricks, dodges, and decisions that only the knitter is aware of, techniques employed simply for pleasure. For example, no one will ever stop you on the street and exclaim in awe and admiration how cleverly you caused your sleeve increases to mirror each other. You knit to please yourself, and the fact that you end up with a beautiful and useful product is an added bonus.  

Related: Knitting Increases, Close Up

Since handknitting is nearly always portable, you can keep projects at your elbow for a quick and refreshing knit when necessary. Traveling with your knitting, whether vacationing to exotic places or traveling through life from your knitting chair in the living room, makes the finished item a record of your journey—each garment has its own story.  

But the best part is that you will never, never learn all there is to know about knitting. It is a living, breathing craft that is constantly changing and evolving. There is always something new to explore. Isn’t it wonderful?  

Meg Swansen is an obsessive knitter who owns Schoolhouse Press in Pittsville, Wisconsin.