Knitting History

RTE (Irish national broadcaster online article) How Swift’s album title (Folklore) and the accompanying photoshoot’s Aran sweater were calculated to signal authenticity.
https://www.rte.ie/brainstorm/2020/0817/1159600-aran-jumper-taylor-swift-fashion-ireland-steve-mcqueen-marilyn-monroe-clancy-brothers/

In 2010, the Hudson's Bay Company (HBC) produced a mass-manufactured sweater as a part of the official merchandise for the Vancouver Winter Olympics. The sweater turned into a national media controversy, with reporters and the public questioning whether the HBC committed an act of appropriation. In local and provincial newspapers, representatives of the Cowichan Nation stated that the HBC sweater shared many of the same characteristics as a Cowichan sweater. The Cowichan sweater is a traditional Indigenous hand-knitted item crafted by several Coast Salish bands throughout Vancouver Island and the mainland of British Columbia; the main producers of the sweater are knitters from the Cowichan Nation, located in what is now known as Duncan, BC.

In my paper, I will analyze how the HBC's imitations alter the Cowichan sweater's aesthetics, as well as affect those who create the original garments. I will argue that the creation of the HBC Olympic sweater constitutes as a form of cultural appropriation since the spinoff sweaters have appropriated designs, which derive from traditional forms of knowledge and traditional practices of blanket weaving. Secondly, I will demonstrate that the Cowichan people have an economic reliance on knitting, noting that this art is either a main or supplementary income for families who may already have a high need for economic assistance. Finally, I suggest that such acts of appropriation misrepresent Cowichan peoples and are a continuation of colonization. Without respecting Indigenous traditional practices and disregarding the economic impact of appropriation, there is a perpetuation of oppression for the Cowichan peoples, as well as any Indigenous nation facing appropriation. This is especially important as appropriation of Indigenous cultures continues to occur in Canada, even after the country acknowledged the importance of Indigenous rights and reconciliation.

This article explores the first chapter of the history of knitting in Europe, and connects it to its ‘pre-history’, the related but very much older craft called needlebinding or nalbinding, and also known as looping, knotless netting, or single-needle-knitting.
Since Richard Rutt’s authoritative history of hand knitting (1987), more data on early knitting have been turning up all over Europe, in archaeology, painting and even literature, about 1300 onwards. From the material surveyed here, it appears that all objects claiming to be knitting from before ca.1250 have so far turned out to be either not true knitting, or not reliably dated. The survey also indicates that the earliest knitting seems to have been done in the round; that multicoloured intarsia knitting may predate shaping by increase/decrease; that the decorative possibilities of intarsia, openwork and raised patterns were extensively explored well before 1550, while ribbing for elasticity was not in use at all; and that the elasticity of knitted goods was actively discouraged, up to at least 1600, by knitting extremely tightly, and often fulling the work afterwards as well.
Needlebinding is so basic to fibre crafts that all human societies have discovered it for themselves during their respective Stone Age periods – like twining/cording, braiding and knotting, but unlike spinning and weaving, whose invention was limited by the natural availability of suitable fibres. Needlebinding has been used for much more varied piecework than knitting: from basketry to lace and ropework, via nets, bags, and wildly varied coverings for the head, hands and feet. A short historical survey, limited to Northern Europe, starts in 4200 BC with the oldest find (from Denmark) and ends with a startling nightcap from the Northern Netherlands, made of cotton and dated to the 18th- or even 19th-century, which challenges the assumption that by 1700, knitting had displaced the older craft in all but the most marginal communities.
Current theory holds that knitting was invented in Egypt. The hypothesis was originally put together on the basis of some late Roman socks which were thought to be knitted, and some multicoloured knitted fragments with claimed dates from the 11th to the 15th century. However, all Roman ‘knitting’ has turned out to be needlebinding. As this became known, the Egyptian socks were interpreted instead as the immediate ancestors of true knitting. Examining this notion from a technical point of view, as a practitioner of both crafts, the author finds little or no chance of direct descent by accidental discovery. This leaves the Egyptian origin of knitting hinging on the dating of the medieval knitted pieces, which is neither precise nor secure.
The author therefore advocates treating the origin of knitting as a research question, without preconceptions, and looks forward to what archaeology may contribute to answering it.

Knitted garments, both hand- and machine-made, are such a normal part of our lives that we rarely stop to consider how recent is this trend in the scheme of mankind.  Yet, a brief assessment of the average wardrobe in any developed nation testifies to its importance.  Our clothing tells the dynamic story of western civilization’s devotion to experiment and change.  We’ve refined an elaborate ability to adulterate nature in an attempt to suit our purposes.

New scientific evidence of trade in raw materials and finished goods for the knitted textile trade is emerging from a scientific study of more than 100 extant knitted caps from the 16th century. These long-overlooked archaeological data are being re-excavated from museum archives for analysis in innovative ways and made available for wider study online. The woollen caps are recorded in European collections as having been shipwrecked, deliberately concealed, preserved in peat bogs, or discarded as beyond use in far-flung locations across Europe – as far north as Denmark and as far south as Croatia. This paper reports the fleece’s journey from the sheep’s back to the sixteenth century citizen’s head based on a variety of evidence, including protectionist legislation, microscopic investigation of the materials used, and modern-day craft expertise. Not only the method of knitting but the choice of yarn, spin, ply, and surface treatments such as fulling, napping and shearing have been successfully recreated, together with the specialist equipment required. Campaigns to protect the capping trade across Europe yielded clues to the proto-industrial settings in which the wool was transformed into a functional fulled fabric providing protection against the weather but also emulating the dress of the elite. Experimental archaeological work with comparative and contemporary craftwork has shed light on the processes required to create the mock velvet nap, which made these caps desirable to those prevented from wearing silk by sumptuary law. The use of x-ray micro-computed tomography scanning as part of an interdisciplinary framework of investigation has shown new ways to explore the materials used to knit and finish the caps. These techniques build on pioneering work with fibre analysis in the 1980s, which identified wool but could not determine specific fleece types and more recent studies which differentiated between early sheep breeds. This new evidence explains how the sheep fleece was crucial to the final appearance of the caps in wear. The knitted caps represent an astonishing body of evidence for the manufacture of ordinary men’s clothing and demonstrate the importance of knitting in creating an iconic item of lower-class dress in the Early Modern era.

In 2010, the Hudson's Bay Company (HBC) produced a mass-manufactured sweater as a part of the official merchandise for the Vancouver Winter Olympics. The sweater turned into a national media controversy, with reporters and the public questioning whether the HBC committed an act of appropriation. In local and provincial newspapers, representatives of the Cowichan Nation stated that the HBC sweater shared many of the same characteristics as a Cowichan sweater. The Cowichan sweater is a traditional Indigenous hand-knitted item crafted by several Coast Salish bands throughout Vancouver Island and the mainland of British Columbia; the main producers of the sweater are knitters from the Cowichan Nation, located in what is now known as Duncan, BC. In my paper, I will analyze how the HBC's imitations alter the Cowichan sweater's aesthetics, as well as affect those who create the original garments. I will argue that the creation of the HBC Olympic sweater constitutes as a form of cultural appropriation since the spinoff sweaters have appropriated designs, which derive from traditional forms of knowledge and traditional practices of blanket weaving. Secondly, I will demonstrate that the Cowichan people have an economic reliance on knitting, noting that this art is either a main or supplementary income for families who may already have a high need for economic assistance. Finally, I suggest that such acts of appropriation misrepresent Cowichan peoples and are a continuation of colonization. Without respecting Indigenous traditional practices and disregarding the economic impact of appropriation, there is a perpetuation of oppression for the Cowichan peoples, as well as any Indigenous nation facing appropriation. This is especially important as appropriation of Indigenous cultures continues to occur in Canada, even after the country acknowledged the importance of Indigenous rights and reconciliation.

Two pairs of silk knitted gloves from the graves of abbesses of St George’s convent in Prague Castle (Czech Republic) were compared. Both pairs are decorated with similar knitted-in patterns in metallic yarn, but they differ significantly in the knitting methods used and the skills of their creators. The gloves of Abbess Isidora Konstancie Roudnická (died 1731) were shaped by irregular increases and decreases using various methods and uneven yarn tension which resulted in a variety of loop sizes. In contrast, the gloves of Abbess Aloisie Theresie von Widmann (died 1735) were shaped only with right decreases and left raised increases placed in neat lines producing knitted fabric which is dense and even. The most interesting features of the gloves are the slits in the thumbs and the first two fingers of Abbess Isidora’s gloves.

Construction technique is a significant characteristic of any artifact and is also particularly important with regards to textiles. This paper identifies some of the specific differences between structures of nalbinding and other non-woven textile techniques. Nalbinding uses limited lengths of yarn, the end of which is completely drawn through at least one loop in the previous row and then crossed over itself. The cross is the basis that distinguishes this technique from other non-woven textile techniques. Open-loop knitting is easy to differentiate from nalbinding, as the open-loop structure does not include the crossover that is necessary for the integrity of the fabric in nalbinding. In general, the knitted rows create a vertical feel to the object and the purl rows a horizontal feel. On the other hand, nalbinding almost always shows horizontal ridging on both sides.
  Some variants are more difficult to distinguish. Of particular difficulty is the difference between "Eastern crossed" knitting and the nalbinding variant known as "cross-knit looping." In the final product, these two completely different methods of manufacture create a fabric with exactly the same basic structure. The only way to tell the method of manufacture in fabrics of this structure is to closely examine the increases, decreases, joins, and mistakes. It is important to note that in a fabric of this structure, nalbinding "increases" will be seen as knitting "decreases" and vice versa, because the relationship of the working yarn to the V shapes formed by the structure is opposite in knitting and nalbinding.
  Sometimes proper dating is useful as a starting point. All the cross-knit looping socks in Egypt seem to be dated from the second to the sixth centuries AD. At the same time there are also artifacts of a more complex form of nalbinding, one of the interconnected looping variants. However, no artifacts of true knitting are found contemporaneously. Dating is not as useful as one moves later into the medieval period, during which both techniques are found.
  Another place to look in order to differentiate textile techniques, which is valid for all nalbinding variants, is splices. If the yarn has many splices, then the use of a continuous thread technique, such as knitting, is unlikely. In those yarns where splicing is inconvenient, it is possible to look for a doubling of a stitch at a fairly regular interval. Conlor changes can also be useful for identifying technique.
Some nalbinding variants are easily determined not to be knitting. The can, however, sometimes be confused with both sprang and crochet on a superficial basis. Structurally they are very different, even though the surface textures can sometimes be seen as similar.
  The structural analysis of an object is just as important as proper dating in recognizing, to the fullest extent, the significance of an artifact. However, there are still many artifacts whose structure has yet to be analyzed. Until this is accomplished, their true contribution to the study of nalbinding, non-woven textile techniques, and textile history cannot be fully recognized.

Hand-knitted silk stockings from the second half of the 16th century and the first half of the 17th century, which were found in today's Czech Republic (historically Kingdom of Bohemia, Margraviate of Moravia and a part of Duchy of Silesia), were examined from a knitter's point of view. Their shaping and patterning were compared to some stockings from the same period found in other European countries. The possibility of using knitting techniques and construction details for dating or determining the place of origin of knitted objects is discussed.

Nalbinding – single needle knitting is a heritage craft that is starting to generate allot of interest within the UK. It was listed as an endangered Heritage craft in the UK in March 2019 by the Heritage Craft Association and more people are starting to think about the story of it as a craft.

This oral and social history project relating to Nalbinding is all about finding out to what extent nalbinding has stayed a conscious memory and a family tradition; and in what parts of the UK this is more prevalent. This will enlighten us about the craft itself, but also the stories of people experiencing the craft back into the recent past. Even as a child these memories can be profound and provide a very real link to the narrative of this craft. Whether you are a fiber worker, knitter or crafter in crotchet, come from a fiber past or just have a story to tell Nidavellnir would love to hear from you!

The fascinating aspect regarding this craft is that as the profile of it is raised; people are coming forward stating they can remember within their family, individuals sitting crafting in this manner with one single needle, making hats, socks and gloves.
  If you think you have a Nalbinding story to tell, Nidavellnir would love to hear from you as part of this investigation into the social memory of this craft.

Get in-touch email:
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https://yorku.academia.edu/EmmaBoast

Contemporary knitting and crochet practices remain principally situated and contextualised in relation to the female, the feminine and, regularly, the feminist. The ‘targeted’ cultural and societal development of the practices presents obstacles in the creation of ‘wholly’ masculine discourses on contemporary male performance and practice of the crafts on the same terms.

As feminisms were employed to convert knitting and crochet into tools of female emancipation and empowerment, their continuing use created a culture that promoted the practices as ‘inherently female’; in many cases, this has become insular and exclusionary, resulting in many contemporary male practitioners standing alone and unbound by a collective crafting identity or ‘purpose’. As the number of male practitioners increases, so do the discourses that take place concerning their practices and the ways in which they interact with these and amongst themselves, and in relation to equivalent female practices.

This ongoing research explores how third-wave feminism is gradually being ‘positively appropriated’ to facilitate masculine discourses on these practices, incorporating and binding male and female practitioners together in parallel discourses on their crafts that complement the dismantling of the gender binary as it has become applied to these.

Shetland Textiles: 800 BC to the Present traces the history of textiles in Shetland through fabrics and garments together with the fibres and tools used to craft them, and the people who made and wore them. It brings together in-depth original research with personal memories of local people, lavishly illustrated by stunning images.

A beautiful and informative sourcebook, Shetland Textiles: 800 BC to the Present will inspire, educate and inform researchers, designers and anyone who is interested in how a tiny archipelago in the North Sea came to be world renowned for its textiles.

Individual authors: Lynn Abrams, Roslyn Chapman, Carol Christiansen, Martin Ciszuk, Sarah Dearlove, Lena Hammarlund, Elizabeth Johnston, Sarah Laurenson and Brian Smith.

Knitted stockings from six burials dating from 1576 to 1626 and three without clear dating were examined. All the stockings have fully shaped legs and triangular gussets bordered on all three sides with patterns of reverse loops, along which the foot was shaped by both decreases and increases. Right-leaning decreases were used mostly; left-leaning decreases were used only in some stockings, exclusively in the upper part of the gusset on the proper left side of the stocking. For increasing, only raised (row below lifted) increases were used. Their asymmetric position in several stockings shows that some of the early knitters understood an increase to be two loops knitted from one parent loop, and for some it was only an added loop. Instead of the usual method of picking up new loops for gussets, the heel flap selvedges were probably whipstitched in several stockings, and these sewn stitches were then used as the base for knitting the gussets. A comparison of the stockings from the Czech Republic to the stockings from the same period found in other European countries suggests the possibility of using a range of construction types for determining their provenance.

The objective of this study is to examine a limited Anglophone corpus that demonstrates how needle arts, long present in literary tradition, are still present in Anglophone literature of the 21st century, but also in other genres, such as workbooks and interactive media experiences. Firstly, the tradition of the stitching protagonist and the transfer of this archetype onto the mainstream craft and hobby fiction genre will be discussed. The presence of needle arts in contemporary fiction demonstrates how the craft becomes intertwined with the plot, working as a narrative strategy, moving beyond just its function of decor or setting. From there, the distinction between the presence of needle arts in fiction genre and the DIY genre may be analysed, the latter also claiming a portion of the market as demonstrated by the popularity of 21st century workbooks, which weave sassy commentary with patterns, going beyond traditional grid manuals. A final aspect of the analysis will examine why and how needle art has been used for the multimedia adventure game experience of Cross Stitch Casper. The presence of needle arts across genres confirms the place of these crafts in contemporary society while demonstrating how the techniques, expressions, and objectives have been updated to correspond to 21st century social contexts.

The diary of Sylvia Lewis (1785-1851) of Bristol, Connecticut, in the collection of the National Society Daughters of the American Revolution's Americana Collection in Washington, D.C., provides the modern historian of American dress with ample data to analyze, both before and after her marriage, and after her emigration to "New Connecticut," the Western Reserve, in Trumbull County, Ohio. Beginning in 1801 and continuing (with a few missing volumes: most of 1802; 1807; 1809) through 1821, Sylvia meticulously recorded her spinning, knitting, sewing, and (prior to her marriage in 1809) her clothing purchases; in Ohio (1818-21), she kept accounts of her professional sewing and what she earned for it. Other primary sources, such as local probate records, account books, and other diaries, add breadth and context to Sylvia's information. *Note: since publication, further analysis of who Sylvia sewed for after her marriage before moving to Ohio (1810-17) shows she was sewing mostly for family, not necessarily for pay.

An 'in conversation' event. This explored the story of one person's idea to save the 'clip' from her father's flock. Rachel Atkinson, known as Daughter of a Shepherd, shared her stories of sustainability, farming practice and the journey from fleece to yarn with Ollie Douglas. This was an informal talk and Q&A session.

Primarily a feminine duty or pastime, knitting has a deliciously rich history of political subversion in fiction and life. As a preemptive measure just prior to the Revolutionary War (1775–1783), American colonists boycotted British goods, spinning their own yarn and knitting and weaving all their own clothing. Madame Defarge, from Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities (1859), knitted constantly in the background; the domestic pastime belied a sinister agenda; readers learn she had been knitting a registry of all those condemned to die in the name of the new republic.

Largely abandoned with the invention of knitting machines, there has been a youth-driven revival of yarn arts in recent decades, a statement against mass production and reclamation of women’s crafts. Activists have begun incorporating large-scale knit and crocheted pieces into political public art statements. Called “yarn bombing” or “yarn graffiti,” these installations may beautify public spaces and add a touch of the handmade to our industrialized environments – drab urban landscapes are the usual targets—if temporarily. More overtly political yarn bombers may target military tanks or relevant statues; for example, Marianne Joergensen stitched a pink blanket over a combat tank to protest Denmark's involvement in the Iraq war in 2006. Contrary to its innocuous grannie associations, knitting can politicize.