Is Chunky Knitting Real Knitting? The Debate That Needs to Die
By Fernando Santos
You’ve seen the comments: a forum thread here, a YouTube reply there. “That’s not real knitting.” “It’s just a trend for the Instagram girlies.” I’ve even watched people sniff at chunky blankets, as if a bigger stitch makes them somehow “less.” A reader wrote in about exactly this, so here’s my honest answer. Fair warning: I have feelings about it.
Yes. It’s the same two stitches.
Knit and purl are knit and purl whether you’re working on 3mm pins or needles the size of broom handles. A chunky cardigan is cast on, knitted, shaped with increases and decreases, then seamed and finished, exactly like any other garment. The needles are bigger and the wool is thicker. That’s the entire difference. Nobody says a mural isn’t “real painting” because the brush is large.
The criticisms, said out loud
Let me be fair to the other side first, because there’s a grain of truth worth naming: chunky knitting is faster and more forgiving. Fewer, bigger stitches mean a dropped one is easy to spot and fix, a whole cardigan can come together in a weekend, and a beginner can get something wearable on their first go. To someone who spent three months on a fine-gauge Fair Isle, that can feel like it cheapens the effort. I understand the feeling. But “quick to learn” and “a trend that photographs well” are not the same as “not real”, and a chunky blanket that someone planned, made and loves is not “less” than anything.
Who I think knitting actually belongs to
Anyone who sits down, plans it out and loses themselves in a ball of yarn, with needles or even just their fingers, is my hero. Full stop. Because look at what you’re actually doing. You’re not only making something that didn’t exist before and is entirely yours; you’re meditating. You’re solving a quietly architectural puzzle, turning a flat idea in your head into a three-dimensional thing you can wear. That is not a lesser craft. That’s a wonderful one.
Anyone who gets lost in a ball of yarn, with needles or even just their fingers, is my hero.
Does it have skills of its own? Yes, and experience helps enormously.
I won’t pretend there’s nothing to learn. Working with unspun roving is its own discipline. It has barely any twist, so it slips and splits if you’re heavy-handed, and you develop a feel for it. Keeping even tension across giant stitches is harder than it looks. You weave the ends in with a felting needle, because the wool’s far too thick to thread. You do need the basics, and if you come in with years of knitting behind you, the world is yours.
But everyone has to start somewhere, and everyone’s story with yarn is different. Some people find their soul in crochet, some in knitting, some in both. There are so many ways to do this and every one is valid: Continental and English, Portuguese, Fair Isle, brioche, lace, cables, the chunky Cowichan tradition, and that’s before you reach loom knitting, arm knitting or finger knitting. None of them is the “correct” one. Each is simply what spoke to that person, and how they chose to learn.
My own story
I came up as a traditional knitter. I’ve got bad eyesight, so fine, skinny knitting was never going to be my world; 9 to 12mm was always my sweet spot. Then I saw chunky knitting and, genuinely, my mind was blown. The next day I was all over the internet, learning, studying, understanding how it worked. And all those years of ordinary knitting (cardigans, jumpers, scarves, socks, and more doggy jumpers for friends and family than I could ever count) helped me enormously. The basics carry straight over. The process is the same. I still adore knitting the traditional way, but I’d never call a doggy jumper “high knitting” just because I made it on 9mm needles. Same hands, same stitches, same joy.
And the joy of chunky? I’m sorry, it’s unmatched.
A finished chunky piece looks like a box of rainbows exploded in the best possible way, and I will happily die on that hill. You can agree with me or not; that’s the deal, and it’s a fair one.
Where I land
The world would be a kinder place if more of us minded our own business and let people have a bit of fun, whether they’re working with skinny needles or one the size of a broomstick. Real knitting isn’t decided by needle size. It’s decided by the fact that you sat down, made the stitches, and made something you’re proud of. Chunky counts, every single time.
Keep reading
The Real Reason Everyone’s Suddenly Obsessed With Chunky Knitting
The big-gauge magic, explained: why it knits up so fast and feels nothing like fine wool.
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