Purls of wisdom, 92cm x 92 cm, oil on linen,
I like knitting. And it’s ironic that so close to the show (when I really need to be relaxing) the closest I can get to it is by painting it. Is that sad? Kind of. But funny too.
Knitting for me, is a form of meditation. A mindless casting of yarn around needles that move quickly, and allow my mind to disengage from the present and wander. Dream and plan and explore. Watching the fabric grow as stitch is built into stitch I am reminded again how everything we do is a continuation of the pattern of life.
I find the repetition, and the fact that it is a uniquely human experience comforting. I find the fact that a knitted garment retains some of the energy of the maker thrilling and special. And I do love the special feeling one gets in wearing a hand-made garment with as much work as a knit.
After finishing this work, I stepped back, went for a walk, and came back to it wondering if she looks a little downcast? That is not my intention. I wanted to capture a wistfulness and that moment when you stop at the end of a row to examine the recent work and feel some sense of achievement. I may need to go back into it and make more of a smile play around her lips.
So I’m wondering, what do you think?