Talking About the Project: What I’ve learned from sharing climate data through craft
One of the most interesting parts of this project hasn’t actually been the knitting. It’s been the conversations that happen because of it.
Over the last few years, I’ve talked to people online, in public, at work, and anywhere else this project happens to come up. Some conversations are quick and light. Others turn into deeper discussions about climate change, art, science, or what the future might look like in our communities. The more I talk about the project, the more I realize it’s teaching me just as much about people as it is about climate data.
Talking About It vs. Seeing It
I’ve noticed there’s a big difference between talking about the project and actually showing it to people.
When I describe it without photos or blankets nearby, people usually think it sounds interesting, but they struggle to picture what I’m actually doing. Most ask how long it will take, and they’re usually shocked when I say probably close to ten years. They also ask whether I notice patterns in the data while I knit.
But when people see the blankets in person, the reaction changes immediately. The first thing they usually comment on is the size of a single decade. After that, they almost always notice how long our summers appear, especially compared to the jokes we make here about having “almost winter, winter, still winter, and two weeks of summer.”
That shift in understanding is the whole reason I started turning data into blankets in the first place. Numbers are difficult for most people to visualize. Colours and patterns are easier to connect with emotionally and mentally, especially when you can physically see temperature changes moving across years and decades.
What People Understand About Climate Change
Talking to people has taught me that most already understand the basic idea of climate change. They know it matters and deserves attention. Where people seem to struggle more is understanding what it actually means for daily life, both in terms of impacts and what they can realistically do about it.
It’s also shown me how difficult abstract datasets can be for people to connect with. Without visuals, climate data can feel distant or overwhelming. That’s part of why this project matters to me. The blankets help bridge that gap and make the information feel more tangible and approachable.
The Conversations That Surprise Me
Some conversations have been surprisingly encouraging. People often connect with the project much faster than I expect them to. They understand the vision behind it and immediately see the value in using art to communicate climate data.
Other conversations have been more frustrating.
People regularly tell me I should sell the blankets, which misses the point entirely. These pieces were never meant to become products. They are educational tools, personal work, and honestly, they feel a bit like my babies at this point.
I’ve also had people suggest getting groups of knitters together locally to replicate the project so it can be completed faster. I love seeing similar projects from around the world, and I would absolutely love to help showcase climate data projects globally one day. But there’s a difference between inspiring others and replacing the artist-led nature of the work itself.
Why These Conversations Matter
More than anything, these conversations have reinforced how important art and craft can be when discussing difficult topics.
The blankets create a softer entry point into conversations about climate change. They feel approachable instead of confrontational. People stay curious longer because the project doesn’t begin with technical language or statistics. It begins with colour, texture, and something familiar.
Art doesn’t replace science. It helps people connect with it. And sometimes, that connection is the first step toward understanding, action, or simply asking more questions.
