When you think 'extreme' you might think adrenaline sports. Raging weather. Your distant uncle's unique political views. Rarely is something like the age-old pastime of knitting paired with the word extreme.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
I soon learned that extreme knitting was not crocheting while performing parkour, or frantically spinning a scarf while hurtling from a plane. Extreme knitting just so happened to be knitting, but on a larger scale.
Textile artist Jacqui Fink first came up with the idea in 2010. Since then, her designs have been exhibited all over the world.
During her workshop at the Canberra Centre on the weekend, Fink talked to me about all things knitting, extreme knitting.
She also let me get my bear claws on the soft merinos. I did my best to banish visions of myself eating the fairy floss-like fibres. So soft!
As Fink expertly wove the yarn around her hands and wrists, I watched on at the creation forming at her feet. Like a maniacal cat eyeing a ball of wool, set to pounce, I sat mesmerised. Damn did she make it look easy.
At her workshop, participants took home a 1kg ball of woollen top yarn, from which they could craft a soft lap rug, a "super scarf" or a statement wall hanging.
Fink swears by extreme knitting as an exercise of mindfulness.
"People who suffer from anxiety find it hard to quiet the mind. And normal forms of meditation, where you're sitting in silence, might not ever work," said Fink.
"Knitting keeps your body busy and you're so occupied by the task at hand, you're concentrating so much, it becomes time out. This has been the only thing that's been mindful for me."
While extreme knitting might not be so different from traditional knitting, for Fink, it was born out of rather extreme circumstances.
"My mum taught me how to knit as a child. But I never learned the language of knitting, it was quite mathematical to me. I didn't have the patience.
"But what I connected with was how calm knitting made me feel."
Fink studied law and then went onto work in the field, but left a few years later as she just wasn't happy in the work. She went on to have three children and she then suffered from post-natal depression and anxiety.
When she was 35, her mother was diagnosed with a terminal lung disease.
"This was a very transformative experience for me. And I was trying to get help at this time, with my other issues. I'm still not great at self care. As a mum you tend to just give yourself over completely.
"In the process of my mum dying, she said to me: 'I don't feel like I've been able to live up to my true potential.' She was 58. That was heartbreaking for me, but it was a gift. I had a visceral reaction to those words. I had to go out and find what I was searching for."
Sydney-based Fink flew to the Gold Coast in late 2009 to see her mother for the last time.
Miraculously, her mother received a last minute lung transplant and survived.
In early 2010, after helping with her mother's recovery, Fink had an unusual dream.
"This will make me sound crazy, but a voice came to me and said: 'You have to knit, and it needs to be big.
"I woke up, terrified, but knew I would listen it. So I worked out what knitting big meant to me."
It took Fink a while to work out the logistics of large-scale knitting. But thanks to her dad, a panel beater with connections in the world of wood turning, she had gigantic knitting needles custom made for her new projects.
After a lengthy search for the right yarn in Australia - she eventually found a knitting mill in New Zealand - she publicly launched extreme knitting in 2012.
"In 2015 the markets caught on and it became this worldwide knitting craze. It's changed my life."
