Hi, I'm Meret
Knitwear designer, creative host, co-founder of the Swiss Yarn Festival – and probably incurably curious.
Butzeria started with knitting. And knitting is still my craft, my playground, and probably one of my favourite ways to find out what happens when you take an idea just a little bit further.
Over the years, though, it has grown into quite a bit more. I design knitting patterns, teach in Switzerland and abroad, organise the Swiss Yarn Festival together with Asita, and since 2026, I have my own creative space in Glattfelden: Butzeria’s Loft.
At first glance, those might look like a lot of different things.
To me, they all belong together.
I like things that don’t quite do what you expect them to
You can probably see that most clearly in my knitting designs.
I’ve never been particularly interested in limiting myself to one style or one technique. There’s the Winter Wedding Coat in double knitting, the Punk Sweater in stranded colourwork, the Misty Mountain Shawl & Sweater and the Lilibeth Sweater in lace – and plenty of other designs that started with the same question:
Couldn’t we do this differently?
Double knitting has been one of my specialities for many years. But I love lace, colourwork, unusual constructions and clever technical details just as much.
When I design, I’m less interested in the technique itself than in what I can do with it.
I love that moment when a slightly crazy idea suddenly turns into something that actually works.
And sometimes I love the moment just before that, when I still have absolutely no idea whether it will.
There’s another sentence I might love even more: “I can’t do that.”
Not because I like hearing it.
But because I know what it can turn into a few hours later:
“Oh. I can.”
That’s why I teach.
Not because I want to stand at the front of a room and show people the “right” way to do something. I want to help people understand why something works – and give them the tools to continue on their own.
You don’t have to know everything before you come to me. You don’t have to be especially talented. And you certainly don’t have to worry about asking a supposedly stupid question.
Not knowing something isn’t proof that you can’t do it.
Most of the time, it’s simply where you begin.
And at some point, knitting turned into an entire space
In 2026, Butzeria’s Loft came along.
110 square metres in Glattfelden that are now my workspace, workshop space, meeting place, experimental playground – and sometimes my own creative hideaway.
And I quickly realised that people come here for very different reasons.
Some want to learn something.
Some want to try something new.
Some arrive with their knitting, sit down and simply want to leave everyday life outside for a few hours.
And I think: all of that is allowed.
Maybe that’s one of the loveliest things about the Loft. Something extraordinary doesn’t have to happen every time for the time spent here to be worthwhile.
My curiosity doesn’t stop at two knitting needles
Give me paper, fabric, yarn, scissors, a pen, a sewing machine or pretty much any material I’m not entirely sure what to do with yet – and chances are I’ll start playing with it eventually.
That curiosity led, among other things, to Gwunder-Zyt.
“Gwunder” is a Swiss German word for curiosity – and Gwunder-Zyt is time set aside simply to explore.
Knitting, embroidery, hand sewing, paper cutting, drawing, gluing – or starting something completely different.
Without needing to end up with something beautiful, useful or Instagram-worthy.
That is surprisingly difficult for many of us.
We’re used to doing things with a goal. Something should be finished. Look good. Be useful. Ideally, we should know what we’re doing before we even start.
But sometimes something interesting happens when, for a little while, all of that disappears.
I create spaces where people can discover what’s already inside them
Sometimes that space is a knitting pattern.
Sometimes it’s a workshop.
Sometimes it’s a festival with thousands of people.
Sometimes it’s a table in the Loft.
And sometimes it really is nothing more than a small piece of paper and the question:
What if I just start?
I don’t always know what will come out of it.
But maybe that’s exactly why Gwunder is one of my favourite words.
I’m glad you’re here.
I now have a word for that: Weissraum
Weissraum literally means “white space”.
It isn’t a new creative technique, and it doesn’t promise that something particular will happen.
It’s more of an attitude – one that has been part of my work for a long time, before I even had a name for it.
Leaving space for what hasn’t been decided yet.
For questions.
For mistakes.
For another idea.
For not knowing.
For that moment when someone tries something even though they were convinced they couldn’t do it.
And sometimes simply for sitting at a table with a coffee and your knitting and not having to achieve anything for a while.
When I look at all the different things that have grown under the Butzeria name, this is the thread I see running through all of them.
