Reading the fabric

Observation and structure

Knitting is often understood as a process of following instructions, repeating a sequence of stitches, and moving forward row by row until a garment is finished.

In class, though, the first thing I look at isn’t the right side of the fabric, but the wrong side. There’s no aesthetic intention there, no way to disguise anything. The structure shows itself exactly as it is. There are no distractions, nothing that pulls you away from seeing how it’s truly made.

If you hold a garment and look at it from the wrong side, you’ll see horizontal lines resting one on top of another. Each one corresponds to a row and reflects how the loop was formed. The wrong side doesn’t lie. In a way, it gives away what’s happening on the right side.

That’s why looking at the wrong side is so useful during the making process. It gives you clues about how you’re knitting and how the structure is forming, and it allows you to react in time: to unravel, correct, and improve before the fabric progresses too far.

In that sense, reading the fabric often begins there, but it doesn’t end there. It also means observing how the garment drapes, how it responds when held in the air, or how it changes after washing. You read it in the evenness of the stitches, in the density, and in the relationship between fiber and structure.

It’s not about looking for mistakes, but about understanding what’s happening—and above all, seeing how we are knitting. That information isn’t only useful for correcting, but also for refining your technique.

Over time and with practice, we refine the way we look at our knitting, and that changes our relationship with it. We stop relying on chance or on “let’s see how it turns out,” and begin to truly understand why things turn out the way they do—why we get a particular result.

And that’s where the possibility appears: to decide, to modify, and to adjust.

Going up or down a needle size slightly—working with gauge through the tool. Not by correcting your gesture or the way you knit, but through the understanding that knowledge gives you, and the ability to adjust the tool to the result you want to achieve.

When you learn to read your knitting, the process stops being repetition and becomes knowledge and technique. And that’s where judgment appears.