There is an unintended beauty in mechanical knitting machines. Unlike digital machines, whose workings remain hidden, mechanical machines openly reveal every motion and every gear, transparent and honest.
Our connection to these machines comes from a quiet resonance. Gears and levers move in rhythms that mirror our own natural gestures, creating a sense of familiarity and kinship. Each stitch and turn is part of a visible dance, a clear harmony of mechanics and craftsmanship.
A few years ago, we invited photographer Alastair Wiper to document some of our oldest machines, still gracefully at work. We envisioned a family album, each machine reflecting Wittgenstein’s idea of family resemblances. On the day of the shoot, however, the machines stood too close together, restricting the wide views Alastair needed.
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In response, we adopted a diptych format, combining two or three images into single compositions reminiscent of traditional church altarpieces. This solution captured perfectly our deep admiration for these remarkable machines and their enduring legacy.
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