Because Creativity - Threads through time, with Fi Cooper

The Click of Needles and the Art of Rediscovery

Photo by Anastasia Zhenina on Unsplash

Dear Creatives, welcome to another Because Creativity guest letter, with

Fi Cooper

.

Fi is a wonderfully versatile creative whose artistic journey defies simple labels. Whether she’s throwing clay, debating the nuances of being a ceramic artist versus a potter in the studio, or capturing the world through her camera lens, Fi brings a unique blend of creativity and curiosity to everything she does. Balancing her craft with an office job, Fi still find time to be a reader, walker, gardener, and all-around creative explorer.

There’s a quiet kind of magic in the act of making something with your hands. Fi takes us on a journey back to a time when crafting was woven into everyday life, a time when creativity seemed as natural as breathing. From the hum of the 1970s, with its macramé and crochet, to the rediscovery of her passion for knitting decades later, Fi’s story reminds us that the threads of creativity never truly break; they simply wait to be picked up again.

I am a child of the 1970s, it was a time when everyone  seemed to make stuff; macrame, crochet, paint by numbers, those pictures made of thread wound round lots of tiny nails. My Mum was (still is) a knitter. I remember being small and sitting next to her on the settee, feeling the nudge of her elbow and hearing the click of the needles through the (original) Poldark, as she made something woolly. My Mum, and ‘The Ladybird Book About Knitting’, taught me the basics and I knit until I was a teenager.  Then I gave it up for decades because it wasn’t a thing you did - not cool.

One day in the early 2000s a friend I’d met through folk music asked I if I knew how to knit? I did, I said, but hadn’t done any for ages!  (folk music - I was no longer interested in being cool by then). We each knitted a blue garter stitch square for a WaterAid campaign, they were creating a knitted river, I think. Making that blue square showed me that I hadn't forgotten how to knit, and that I really enjoyed it. The early 2000’s world of knitting I then found myself in was exciting, but the most valuable thing was that I rediscovered the calming repetitive action of sitting and knitting: Needle in loop the yarn pull it through… next stitch needle in loop the yarn pull it through... For us modern knitters settling down with our work is usually a time of quiet creativity.

I love the way a piece of knitting can be picked up and put down, worked on in tiny pockets of time and almost anywhere. In that way it's rather like writing, and very unlike pottery, which needs its own space and can't be done while e.g. waiting out your offspring’s music lessons. Knitting is a good way to spend time in queues and waiting, much better than scrolling on my phone.

image 1 - Just some of the knitted items in our house. image 2 - ‘Smithfield’ pattern by Amy Christoffers in dappled autumn light (I altered the neckline a bit).  Knitted almost entirely during my son’s drum lessons. image 3 - ‘Stopover’ pattern by Mary Jane Mucklestone, from the  ‘Lopapeysa’ Icelandic tradition

I knit at home mostly, often accompanied by a TV show or film. Once I became reasonably proficient, I found I didn't need to concentrate on any plain knitting I was doing.  During the  ‘Scandi Noir’ craze in the UK I  could watch the programme, pick up some Danish, and read the subtitles. Inevitably it led to a Scandinavian style jumper (and many pairs of socks).

It amazes me that two basic stitches - knit and purl - plus two sticks and some yarn are the doorway to a universe of pattern and texture. My great love is for colour work, especially the multi colour traditions of Fair Isle, Scandinavian and Baltic designs.  These are pieces which involve working with many balls of wool at once and require concentration – unlike my plain knitting projects. But time can pass magically by when I work on these colour work pieces  - the flow state I’m sure we all yearn for. 

I have even dipped my toe into designing my own.  A lap-blanket I named ‘Solstice’ was heavily influenced by Kate Davies designs and my own background in archaeology. It features Stonehenge, druids, modern revellers, barrows and objects from the grave of the Amesbury Archer. 

Solstice Blanket, by me, and my multi coloured take on Rams & Yowes by Kate Davies.

I often think that if I hadn’t taken up my needles again 20 years ago my inner craftswoman may never have reappeared. Through knitting I rediscovered my creativity.  I started to write, to learn how to spin and to weave. After a while, because I knew I could make things,  I went to a pottery class and kept going. But knitting is still my literal comfort blanket, and as the weather cools, I’m rummaging in my in my wool stores, working out what to make next.

Fi’s journey back to knitting is more than just a return to an old hobby; it’s a rediscovery of the joy, calm, and sense of purpose that creativity brings. From the simple act of forming a stitch to designing intricate patterns inspired by archaeology, her story is a beautiful reminder that creativity is not about trends or perfection. It’s about finding comfort in the familiar rhythm, embracing the imperfections, and letting the act of creation lead us to new possibilities. As Fi says, knitting may be her literal comfort blanket, but it’s also a doorway to a universe of endless inspiration.

If you enjoyed this story of rekindling creativity through knitting, you can find more of Fi’s writing on her Substack, A Wandering Way. True to its name, it is a delightful journey through thoughts, books, and creative pursuits, a 'commonplace book' filled with musings that defy the limits of any single niche. It's a space where a curious mind roams free, inviting readers to wander alongside her. Join her on this meandering path; after all, it’s always better to have company on a journey of discovery.

And if you're inspired by the natural world and the beauty of handmade creations (if you’re here, them I am sure that you will be!), I encourage you to visit Fi's website, where her passion for walking and exploring the landscape flows directly into her work.

Fi Cooper Ceramics

I’m not much of a knitter, but like Fi, my mum was and still is. I have memories of her making Fair Isle pullovers for herself and my dad, patterns flowing in vibrant colours, and that pink jumper with purple bobbles she made for me. When my daughter was born, Mum’s knitting needles danced again, creating a gorgeous doll in a charming purple dress and hat. For my son, she brought to life a whimsical Jemima Puddle-Duck, with a blue bonnet and pink shawl.

Mum taught my sister and me to knit, but I was never able to master the coordination of two needles and a ball of yarn. My stitches were always slow and uneven, resulting in lumpy scarves and wonky gloves that bore more character than craft. It’s been many years since I last picked up a pair of needles, but the memories still linger.

Yet, there’s a whisper of curiosity, a gentle nudge to try my hand at it again. I can picture myself making a pair of fluffy winter socks, perfect for those chilly work-from-home days. So, I’m adding it to my creative bucket list, ready to see if I can turn those tangled threads of memory into something cosy and warm.

Have you rekindled a childhood love of crafting and creativity? I’d love to hear your stories and experiences in the comments. What creative pursuits have you added to your own bucket list? Whether it’s knitting, painting, or any other form of making, sharing our journeys can be a gentle source of inspiration for one another. I am always so encouraged and inspired by the beautiful conversations that unfold here.

Bye for now,