I have been trying to think of a way to describe what I call my 'stream of consciousness' knitting. I first used the term to describe the way I was knitting my abstract sculpture, All the babies I might have had 1. I used double pointed needles and knitted a series of holes radiating out from the central point.
Knitting with only one colour emphasised the process and made me very aware of what I was doing; I had no pattern, a few rules, made decisions as I knitted and the design developed as the piece grew. The structure mirrored the process and was organic, cellular, reminding me of binary fission.
All the babies I might have had 1, 2011, installed at Align, UWE, Bower Ashton campus, Bristol, June 2012
(Click for full image)
But why do I call it a stream of consciousness? Knitting is very repetitive, stitch by stitch and row by row, and without the constraints of a pattern, when I knit in private, I very quickly enter a state of meditative timelessness which induces a profound sense of wellbeing. The psychologist Csikszentmihalyi describes this as the state of flow; it is caused by deep concentration, where levels of skill match levels of challenge. It is often linked to creativity and, ultimately, to happiness.
Because I create large pieces, as well as knitting at home alone, I also knit wherever and whenever I can; in pubs and cafes, in queues, on the beach, on buses and trains, at festivals and concerts and even on the ski slope! The response to my public knitting is astonishing and provokes many conversations. When I knit in public, I still experience Csikszentmihalyi's flow, but to a lesser extent, obviously. I find that I can easily talk and knit in this intuitive way.
The fact that All the babies I might have had 1, and a few of my other sculptures, are web-like in structure is pertinent. I have researched the work of other artists and ideas around the memory of cloth and I like to think of my knitting as a ‘memory catcher’, with those encounters and conversations somehow becoming part of its fabric. Knitting a uterus in public as a response to issues around infertility was inevitably very poignant and provoked a wonderful range of comments and conversations.
I am also interested in the links with women in mythology and textile processes -The Fates spinning the thread of life, Penelope weaving by day and unravelling by night etc- and the power that those processes bring.
(Edited March 2025)