Guerilla knitting

The dock worker's statue at the Main River is glistening in the sun. It's naked now, but that is about to change. A little bit of needle-rattling, a few knots at the right leg - and soon enough the statue is wearing colorful striped socks.

A guerilla knitter, known as Strick Puttis, had already prepared them at home so she just had to fasten them to the legs of the statue. She and the rest of her knitting community are on a mission to add little dashes of color to Frankfurt's otherwise grey façade.

Striktik, another guerilla knitter in Frankfurt, attaches his creations to traffic light posts, street lamps and park benches. In true street art fashion, he wants to remain anonymous and hides his face behind a mask - which he knitted himself, of course.

Since January, the guerilla knitters have been leaving colorful woolly traces all over the Rhine-Main region in south-western Germany. Their goal is to make public spaces a little bit cozier - more colorful and less sterile

Who owns the city?

What might sound like a practical joke at first actually derives from a political movement. Verena Kuni, professor for visual culture at the Institute for Art Education at the Goethe University in Frankfurt, says guerrilla knitting is a soft form of protest.

"It loosens up the environment," explained Kuni. "When people become more relaxed and start paying attention to what theysee, they might find it funny or surprising at first. But then they start to notice that there are alternatives to the norm."

According to Kuni, an art and media scholar, knitting around objects in the public sphere can raise questions about who maintains ownership of public spaces.

Collective crafting

Guerrilla knitters like Striktik or Strick Puttis cannot necessarily answer these questions, but they enjoy knitting and want to brighten up the city. Their motto: "Get the wool." The knitting activists meet regularly to create new designs. The group is open to newcomers and everyone is encouraged to drape their work around traffic lights, sidewalk posts or trees in the public sphere.

The street-knitting movement originally started in the United States - in Madga Sayeg's knitting store to be precise. She is known as the mother of all guerrilla knitters and originally just wanted to advertise her wool store by hosting small knitting activities in public.

As Verena Kuni said, that shows that street knitting can take on a wide scope: "It can be anything, from 'make your village more beautiful' to a political statement."

More than a fashion trend

In Kuni's opinion, the participants are not only motivated by the street art aspect, but also by the do-it-yourself experience. Related projects like guerrilla gardening and urban farming have been booming for several years already, especially in large cities.

Guerrilla knitting also has an element of "cocooning" to it, explained Kuni. "One wants to withdraw from reality into a world where everything is cozier, where quality does still matter; a world, in which people actually produce things with their own hands," she said.

What's more, the knitters can learn a lot about old techniques used by their grandmothers. "And a lot is learned about production processes," which can then have political implications, added Kuni.

To the cultural scientist, this trend of do-it-yourself is much more than just temporary fashion. Behind all these lamp posts, tree trunks and park benches, lovingly decorated with scarves, knitted caps or legwarmers, there is a longing to use one's own hands and produce something valuable and unique.

"The fact that the final piece might not be perfect - the seam is probably wryly knitted and some stitches not completely accurate - makes it charming," commented Kuni. This acceptance for imperfection makes it easier to overcome inhibitions and put that self-made hot pad around the next grey parking meter.

Author: Bianca von der Au / aw

Editor: Kate Bowen