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Slow Design in a Fast World

by Lisa Bayne · Monday, July 27th, 2009 at 10:18 am

Allow me to introduce myself.    Trained as a textile artist and fashion designer, professionally I am known as an executive in the world of retail.   Retail is not particularly known for its dedication to Slow, but rather is a world which thrives on and requires speed to market.  In my field it is all about knowing your customers and responding – quickly – to their needs.  To counterbalance  this addiction to speed, I have retained my connection to my training as an artist and have become a knitter – a serial knitter, in fact – throughout the past decade.

Thought by some to be the domain of grannies, knitting allows me to start something from the ground up, focus on the practice and the journey .   It is amazing to start with balls of yarn and Slowly, Slowly, Slowly create something entirely different.  You can carry that creation with you to multiple experiences, keeping the slow rhythm of knitting a constant during meetings, long plane rides, boring waits.  Dr. Perri Klass, in her book Two Sweaters For My Father: Writing About Knitting knitted her way through medical school, much to the chagrin of her mostly male classmates.  She claimed it kept her alert throughout lectures, a not-to-be-scoffed at accomplishment for sleep deprived residents.  It also kept her balanced and focused on the lectures.

With knitting, if you make a mistake, unlike in the rest of life, you get to rip it out and have a makeover.  The steady movement of your hands and need for counting stitches and rows provides a soothing counterbalance to chaos around and seems to allow true clarity of thinking.  Instead of the mind wandering, the mind seems to focus while knitting.  Some think we are not listening when we knit;  I have been reprimanded for knitting while attending strategic planning conferences.  Silly non-knitters.  If they only knew.
This is my introductory post on the concept and practice of Slow Design.  The posts will focus on artists who, whether they have named it as such, engage in Slow Design.  Those who work in the media formerly known as craft exemplify Slow Design, with their dedication to the connection between the mind and the hand.  Stitchers, ceramicists, glassblowers, furniture makers all practice the Art of Slow.  As I learn from them, I shall pass it along.

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3 Responses to “Slow Design in a Fast World”

Carl

Lovely post. Really brought back memories.

At the Camp Bestival music festival this past weekend, I dropped in on the Knitting Tent for a lesson. I used to knit many years ago and figured picking it up again would be a doddle. Think again.

The needles were more fiddly than I remember and I actually got a bit stressed when I dropped a stitch or my row got too tight. It didn’t help that the teacher was hovering over me clucking away about how easy it all should be. Even so, I felt more than a bit silly. It was like getting stressed at yoga or meditation.

But now I’m finding my rhythm again. The next question is what to knit first. Does the world need another homemade scarf?

Lisa Bayne

It is interesting that you mention the comparison to getting stressed at yoga. I find there are, indeed, many similarities between knitting and the practice, in my case, of Pilates.

First of all, being comfortable with the mistakes, with the learning is key. Having a knitting buddy, someone with whom you feel comfortable saying: How do I do this? or What did I just do? or Can you help me? really helps.

I find the whole business of learning something new as an adult to be enlightening. I am terrible at it. I expect to be an expert from the beginning, and thus the tension instead of the journey of the learning.

Now, as for that scarf? I say, go for a hat. You can see the end from the beginning, which can be extremely motivating. But first find a knitting buddy to help you with those circular needles!

Carl

It’s so true what you say about the need to feel comfortable with mistakes. We just don’t anymore. In our air-brushed, I’m-worth-it culture, we expect everything to be perfect. Including ourselves. Which is ludicrous, because making mistakes and admitting to them is the lifeblood of learning.

At least I hope it is. Otherwise this knitting is going to drive me over the edge…

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