Knit the sky — knitting meets journaling, one row at a time
Lea Redmond has been making things her entire life. As a child, she could be found in her room making little toys and trinkets, fashioning shells and twigs and leaves into physical manifestations of her imagination — and her grandmother taught her to knit when she was 8.
While studying continental philosophy, art and environmental studies in college, she realized that all the things she had been making were infused with the ideals and dreams of a future she wanted for the world.
“It’s about making connections between people and place,” she says.
Redmond opened a studio in Oakland — temporarily closed now by COVID-19 — where she makes the most delightful objects and encourages others to join her on flights of fancy. She’s postmaster of the world’s smallest post office, which features tiny letters written to order. She makes hand-bound books from sugar packets and creates decks of “lively matter” cards that send players on “grand adventures of the ordinary.”
“I have a deep joy in making things,” Redmond says, “and giving them to people. People who know me say that spending time with (me) is like a kindergarten show-and-tell all the time.”
Almost 10 years ago, Redmond began knitting what she calls “sky scarves,” pieces of wearable art that document the weather for an entire year. The scarves are knitted one row a day in hues that match the colors of the sky. A dark gray for a stormy winter day, brilliant blue for sunny days and a mix of blue and white representing the clouds scattered against an otherwise unencumbered sky.
She shared her design and finished scarf on Ravelry.com, a social networking site for fiber artists, and it was an immediate hit. Hundreds of knitters took up the call and began knitting the sky.
Now there’s a book, “Knit the Sky” (Storey Publishing, 2015), which features not only the sky scarf but dozens of other Redmond projects that focus on connecting us with people and places. Earlier this year, the New York Times reported on a growing movement of knitters, who are chronicling climate change by knitting scarves that reflect daily temperatures, from frosty blue to fiery red. The Times credits Redmond with starting the whole thing.
“I don’t know if I did,” Redmond says, “but I’d like to think that I did.”
The temperature scarves are not the only reworking of sky scarves. Some knitters have begun making baby blankets that reflect nine months of sky hues. Others embellish their sky scarves, incorporating beads to signify rain, for example, or charms to mark birthdays and holidays.
“It’s like knitting meets journaling,” Redmond says.
Redmond says the only addition she’s made to her sky scarves are on days that she forgets to knit a new row. She could check the weather report and catch up. Instead, she adds a different colored row, a reminder to pay more attention to the world around her.