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Nordic News and Notes – October 2024

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“Keeping old weaving traditions alive in new contexts: From North House Folk School to Scandinavia to Vesterheim Museum” By Caroline Feyling. The Norwegian American, September 18, 2024

Caroline Feyling recently finished a year as a Folk Art Apprentice at North House Folk School. In this article she describes her Norwegian background, her inspiring research trip to Scandinavia and subsequent work with Norwegian weaving.

Exhibit – Recent – Norway

MALFRIDUR ADALSTEINSDOTTIR
Stemning / Atmosphere

26 September – 3 November 2024. Format Gallery, Oslo, Norway

Málfríður Aðalsteinsdóttir (born 1960, Iceland) lives and works in the forests of Norway. She combines wool and horsehair in her embroidered drawings, using both the natural colors of different sheep breeds and plant-dyed wool, which is then carded before the desired thread is spun. Older craft traditions that involve a close connection between the hand and the material, respect for natural resources, and the time-consuming aspect of handmade work are fundamental to her practice.

Exhibit – Upcoming – Finland

EMMA: Espoo Musuem of Modern Art. “Finnish Ryijy Textiles to Complement Glass and Ceramics of Collection Kakkonen at the End of 2024.”

From the website: “EMMA will mark the two years of the hugely popular Collection Kakkonen exhibition with new additions. The updates will be installed gradually over the autumn season, beginning in September 2024, with the new exhibition ready for public viewing in the last week of November…The new Ryijy Gallery section at Collection Kakkonen strengthens EMMA’s commitment to design, featuring textiles of artistic, cultural, and historical importance. Displayed alongside ceramic and glass objects, the ryijys highlight the interwoven history of these three genres. In his collecting, Kyösti Kakkonen has focused on the works of renowned Finnish ryijy designers. The new display will include around 15 pieces from the 1930s to the 1980s by various artists, including Uhra-Beata Simberg-Ehrström. 

Exhibit – Upcoming – Minneapolis

Vibrant Traditions: Scandinavian Weaving in the Midwest 

Norway House, 913 E Franklin Ave, Minneapolis, MN 55404
January 31 – April 6, 2025 

This exhibit of traditional and contemporary weavings in Scandinavian techniques will take place in the Mondale Galleri at Norway House. The Scandinavian Weavers Study Group is celebrating almost three decades of collaboration and friendship that has included exhibitions, study group topics, and sharing of expertise. This resulted in a strong community with a shared interest in traditional Scandinavian weaving techniques and commitment to keeping our craft alive — and vibrant. The exhibit will be accompanied by weaving demonstrations, special events, and waffles (available in the Norway House Kaffebar)! Check the Scandinavian Weavers blog in the coming months for details. 

Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk!

Weaving Light and Meaning: A Conversation with Artist Soile Hovila

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By Mandy Pedigo

In the early months of 2020, I researched art exhibitions in Finland that would coincide with my travels there in May. I was thrilled to discover that I would get to see an exciting exhibition at the Craft Museum of Finland in Jyväskylä.

The exhibition, Woven Image, was an exhibition of four Finnish artists: Soile Hovila, Ariadna Donner, Aino Kajaniemi and Inka Kivalo. It was the first exhibition of its kind in Finland. The pandemic made the trip impossible, and I could only look at the work online. Despite the limitation presented by the mediation of the computer, the work of Soile Hovila left me stunned and deeply moved. 

Hovila installation view

Woven Image exhibition 2019-2020. Soile Hovila World of Contrasts IV, I and V tapestries. Photo: Anneli Hemmilä-Nurmi, Craft Museum of Finland.

I first noticed the soft atmospheric light. Hovila crafts her natural light in a convincing way that made me forget that I was looking at an artwork. It invokes the feeling of being pulled into the environment and noticing what the artist is directing our attention towards. Though some might be tempted to call Hovila’s compositions painterly, they are unmistakably textile, an important distinction. There is a presence to them that comes through, even despite the mediation of photo image and computer. 

Among the works featured, many are from her World of Contrasts series where human-created environments shift into nature scenes. Themes include the importance of the natural world along with human impacts of deforestation, population density and loss. Amongst the buildings and clutter of human life, the forest emerges as a holy place, an invitation to reorient and to remember. The light of the sun pierces through to further invite the viewer into the composition.

hovel world of contrasts

Soile Hovila, World of Contrasts I, 2017. 162×130 cm. Photo: Henna Mitrunen.

Now a fan of Hovila’s work, I wanted to know more about her and the way she works. I recently asked her for some time to answer some of my questions about her work. She was very generous in her answers. I think it may be time to get that Finland trip planned again!

Q: You learned tapestry while in school, correct? What was your school experience like? Do you feel that it prepared you for being an artist?

I specialized in tapestry after graduating as a textile artist from the University of Art and Design Helsinki (Aalto University) in 2002. I had only a really short course of tapestry technique in the Textile Art department, so I have mostly learned by myself through challenging subjects: I wove flowing water and rock surfaces as well as portraits.

There isn’t any teaching tradition of tapestry weaving in Finland, so our tapestry artists are self-educated. There have been only a few of us, no groups or associations. Instead, our country is famous for its rich tradition of woollen rya rugs. Finnish textile artists have also used double weave and transparent techniques for woven patterns.

I learned to appreciate and use the means of expression of textile art during my university years. My love for the richness of color tones deepened and I learned about the diversity of materials. Tapestry artist Inka Kivalo taught me one short course at the University, but it was about jacquard weaving. But it has meant a lot that she gave me a two metres wide high warp loom as a gift. I have always admired her abstract works, the use of colour and interesting texture. I did not learn complex fabric structures and I´m not interested in them. That’s why tapestry technique suits me well. I want to focus on thinking about colours and image structure. During school, I also developed my drawing skills, as I have drawn and painted since I was five years old and started at Art school for Children in Joensuu (my hometown). I think good drawing skills are very important for tapestry artists.

I want to mention one Finnish tapestry artist from history. Eva Anttila (1894 -1993) had a really long career and she also taught weaving from 1926-28. I have studied Eva Anttila´s writings about tapestry art and tried to learn her way to make tapestries. I´m really interested in the unwritten history of Finnish tapestry art.

Q: How do you begin to design a tapestry? Do you work from a cartoon, drawing or do you respond to the work as you weave?

I design my work by combining photos, but without computer programs. At first, I sketch a tiny image, so that I can see the main lines and contrasts in the picture. Then I make a small sketch, because I want to make expressive choices with yarns and during the weaving process. When the sketch is ready enough, I draw outlines to the right size of thin paper. Then I draw it again from the opposite side because I need a mirror image. 

This cartoon is behind the warp, to help me to weave. I look at the photos closely when I draw and color the cartoon. I have noticed that when I weave, I don´t go back to photos that often anymore. I find it creepy to even think about printing a photo behind the warp.

Have you worked in other art areas?

I made silk paintings, I painted a live model on wet silk. This technique required speed and intensive work, so it is the opposite of the tapestry technique that requires patience. I have also done watercolours and woodcuts, with portraits and landscapes as subjects. I am also an art educator and art historian by profession. I teach children at a local art school, and I have done research on the history of textile art. I have also designed some carpets and made a community art project with handicapped people.

Q: What is the inspiration? In making art, there are many ways of working that can express an idea or the content. How does the materials and process of weaving inspire you?

Tapestry weaving combines perfectly making pictures and using textile materials. I get the strongest inspiration when I combine different yarns and look for just the right color shade and put together color gradients from dark to light or from one color to another.

Inspiration for weaving that requires hard work can sometimes come from outside as well: When I’ve found a good audio book to accompany me, I can continue weaving for longer.

Soile Hovila. Design of Ataraxia, Spring 2020. Photo: Soile Hovila.

Q: Can you talk about how you problem solve through the stages of work?

I usually plan the work quite well, but there are always points that have been overlooked in the cartoon. At first, I try to figure out how to weave by looking at photos on the computer. If that doesn’t work, I stop weaving, remove the work drawing and move the loom to see the work from the right side. I will draw the cartoon in more detail.

Q: Your tapestries depict sunlight so effectively and emotionally. How did you develop this? How has it changed over time?

The central role of light in my works started when I was looking for a subject that would combine nature subjects and abstract expression, color transitions. There is a huge amount of detail in nature, and I wanted to simplify the task of weaving, which is based on photographs. I ended up studying the rays of light that the fog brings out. Nowadays, I no longer want to design an image without focusing on light.

For the next two years, I will try to renew my perspective thanks to a grant from the Finnish Cultural Foundation. I´ll also include the shadows brought by the light and explore whether the characteristics of a moving image can be brought into slow weaving. For example, the flicker of light in the foliage of a tree fascinates me. But I think: maybe it’s too demanding and a waste of time. With Jacquard technology, this motif is already woven. So I keep thinking… I am no longer interested in designing only aesthetic, beautiful pictures. I want to tell stories and comment, especially the alarming state of the environment.

world of contrasts II

Soile Hovila, World of Contrasts II, 2018. 148×98 cm. Photo: Henna Mitrunen

Q: Your warp shows through on your tapestries, which isn’t done in classic tapestries in other parts of Europe. It feels transgressive and necessary and an invitation to look deeper into your fabric. Is the revealing of the warp important to you?

Yes, it’s really important. I let the warp be visible under wefts, even if mostly tapestry weavers think that it should be fully covered by the weft. In this way, undyed linen warp combines color shades and creates a certain soft, muted tune. Today’s tapestry artists use many different surface structures and materials of different thicknesses, but I have a goal of photo-likeness, which prevents using them. However, a flat, tightly woven monochrome surface looks often dead to me. The visible warp emphasizes the three-dimensional structure of the fabric, thanks to which the color is built from the light and shadow side of the yarn.

Soile Hovila, Detail of Ataraxia behind the loom. Photo: Soile Hovila

Q: What do you hope your tapestry invokes in the viewer?

I hope that the viewer of my tapestry stops and calms down to look at it. I have spent a lot of time making the work, so I hope the viewer will do the same. The best feedback is when the viewer is moved/sensitized and thinks about the content of the work.

Q: What role does tapestry/textile art play in contemporary art?

Finnish textile artists are proud of means of expression of textile materials and techniques. Art that can be fully defined as contemporary art is made here, but it is presented in the field of textile art. Is it modesty? However, it would be easier to get appreciation with the title of art than art craft. Nowadays, when visual artists use textile techniques, it raises the status of textile art at the same time.

Tapestry art plays a very small role in Finland, as there are only a few tapestry artists. When I invited Ariadna Donner, Inka Kivalo and Aino Kajaniemi to hold an exhibition with me, one of my goals was to make our technique better known and attract new weavers. Some artists who still make small tapestries are developing. But faster jacquard or tufting techniques easily take many of them away from slow hand weaving. And it’s no wonder, because jacquard textiles have gained a lot of space in the exhibitions of Finnish art museums in recent years.

Q: Finnish textiles aren’t well known outside of Finland except for ryijy (rya rugs). Why do you think?

Ryijy plays a central role in the field of Finnish textile art, too.

I haven’t read any research about how well-known or unknown Finnish textile artists are. So, I can only speculate. In Finland, an artist gets appreciation and becomes known by succeeding abroad. The most famous Finnish textile artists are those who received awards at World Exhibitions in the 1920s-50s. In Finland, the work of contemporary textile artists is not supported, as it is in Norway, for example. Nowadays, less and less textile art is commissioned for public spaces.

Q: I saw online that you recently finished a tapestry and have begun a new one. Can you tell me about it?

My latest work is named Ataraxia. I started it in the spring of 2020 and completed it at the beginning of this year. It is an exceptionally large,  an 11 square meter tapestry triptych. Working on this scale was a new challenge for me, with which I feel I am joining the historical chain of tapestry artists. The design of Ataraxia coincided with a stressful time, when residents of big cities were urged to stay in their homes due to the corona pandemic. I felt a great privilege when I got to enjoy Finnish nature. With my work, I emphasize the importance of nature in the pursuit of inner peace.

So, I got to design a new work after a long break. Ataraxia took three years to weave, and I won’t plan a new one until the previous one is finished. I am now weaving a piece with a bird taking flight over water colored by the sunset. This bird species has become rare due to the felling of old forests.

Soile Hovila. Ataraxia center panel, 2020-23. 282×172 cm. Photo: Henna Mitrunen.

Q: Where can people see your work and find out more about you? What is next for you?

I have a website http://www.soilehovila.net and I also update my Facebook and Instagram accounts, which can be found under my name.

I have a solo exhibition in August-September 2023 at Galleria A2 in Helsinki. In addition, Weavers of Vision – four perspectives on modern Finnish tapestry will open in the Rovaniemi Art Museum in November 2023 and remain open until February 25, 2024. We are also planning to organize a tapestry seminar at the University of Lapland. After that, I will focus on the Kouvola Art Museum exhibition. It is set for 2026.

I´ll offer my works to international textile art exhibitions, too. My work was selected to the ARTAPESTRY6 exhibition on the fourth attempt, so the goal took ten years. I hope that my work will be accepted again someday, because it is important to be part of the community of one’s special profession.

Mandy Pedigo is an artist and writer living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. She researches and writes about textiles and their history. An article about her research of Finnish designer Maija Kolsi-Mäkelä appeared in Surface Design Journal, Spring 2020. mandypedigo.com
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

April 2023

Playfulness and Joy in my Atelier

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By Inka Kavalo

Inka Kivalo (b. 1956) is a Finnish textile artist. After her MA studies at the University of Art and Design Helsinki, Kivalo went on to showcase her work both internationally and in Finland. Today, her work can be found in several art collections around the world.

I weave tapestries, and sometimes create animal and human shaped sculptures. For my own pleasure, I weave scarfs with plant dyed or undyed yarn. I embroider large necklaces, often adding silver or other metals. In other words; I weave, embroider, knit, appliqué and stitch. 

I am inspired by traditional textiles: the materials, fine technical properties and aesthetics. Weaving is affected by the rigidity of the loom, which one has to overcome. That is why ethnic textiles are often so spectacular, as they allow imagination to be unleashed.

My two hundred year old loom, made of the roots of spruce trees, is like a sculpture. The techniques I use are age-old; through my techniques and materials I preserve old traditions. I preserve and reform. This is how I justify my work to myself.

I enjoy making handicrafts, and became a textile artist because the blaze of colors is softer in textiles. I try to make life more beautiful.

Weaving requires you to put your heart into it, and it demands patience. It is also a manifestation of playfulness and joy, as the technical act of weaving is not substantial; vision is. I am my own handwriting. I reflect myself and then start the work.

I feel attracted to materials, because I need them, and they dictate the nature of what can be done.

Everything starts from a thread. I create a new yarn from multiple fine threads. Amidst thin cotton or silk threads there might be a golden thread, or an inherited one. I collect threads and yarns. One of my works is named after a poem by Kirsti Simonsuuri called “Väreilee kuin lanka” (“Ripples like a thread”).

My woven artworks are like windows to colorful worlds. They do not express anything straightforwardly, they just hint at the right direction, unveiling the atmosphere.

Inka Kivalo. Big Miniature, 2008. Photo: Johnny Korkman

To inspire my work, I often choose a palette of new and fascinating color tones. I might think – should I use the golden colors of Lassila’s farm rooster? Should I use the purples of a thunderstorm? 

Inka Kivalo. Revoir, 2022. Photo: Chikako Hirada

The weave itself is the theme of my work. I work with a simple plain weave by manipulating it. Afterwards I might appliqué or stitch the fabric with some surplus material. I do it in such a manner that the end result will be vaguely spontaneous-looking and richer, and that the slow work process would lead to a liberating finale.

I often use a framework theme; in a way I look inwards and outwards. It is, on one hand, about the feeling of safety, framing and human edges, but then, the patterns can also float on the surface, respecting no boundaries.

Once in a while I make sculptures. Initially they were elephants, sheep, and horses; later I made stylized human figures and heads. The role of my sculptures has always been the role of being an audience in the exhibition hall. 

Inka Kivalo. “Towards Something Else,” 2020. Photo: Chikako Hirada

Recently I added embroidery to my sculptures. With embroidery the textile sculptures become more about the surface than just their form. It is possible to embroider layers upon layers on top of the surface.

Inka Kivalo. “Dark Lady,” 2018. Photo: Chikako Hirada

When I was young I used to paint and take part in exhibitions for young artists. I felt like I was a painter. That was the background for my textile print designs. My drafts were painted in a factory hall on a finished fabric, so they were easy to put on display in planning meetings.

Printed textiles were my material in numerous museum exhibitions in the late 1980s. I built installations by sewing fabrics together and framing them. I created walls, houses, projections of windows and doors, a labyrinth of mirrors and edges; with names like Hotel Giorno; House and Garden;  and The Sun Was Shining, If I Remember Correctly… 

I began to make scarves and necklaces, at first only for myself. Scarves are more than just scarves. They are a study of the rhythm of stripes, colors and hues. My scarves feature braided trimmings and a thin stripe which continues over the edges as a braid. I use Finnish plant-dyed or natural sheep wool. 

At first I knitted scarves from natural thread, like the darker shades of black and grey sheep wool. I aimed for an architectural and ethnic character. Later I met an artisan at a marketplace who was selling plant-dyed yarn that was dyed in a creative manner, with blurred hues and multiple dyes. What a blissful feeling when you find an inspirational material!

There is a curious feature when embroidering necklaces; I get away from the stillness of the loom to the fluidity of necklace making. The most important tools for embroidering are rather simple: a thread, a needle, a fabric, and possibly, a small, round embroidery hoop. My necklaces always become quite large, because the size is relative to the way I sew.

A tapestry, a sculpture, a fabric installation, a scarf or a necklace—each one is a mirror into the world I see, feel, and experience. 

See more of Inka Kival’s unique tapestry work here.
2022
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

Raanu: A Minimalist Work of (Ongoing) Art (Part Two)

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By Robbie LaFleur 

The article describing Elina Juopperi’s work, “Raanu: A Minimalist Work of Art,” By Pälvi Myllylä, was published in 2016. It discusses Juopperi’s work in progress, Heritage, based on the  “Die” sculpture of sculptor Tony Smith from 1962. Heritage is created by stacking layers of raanus into an evocative stack of memory, culture, and color. When finished, the work will be cube-shaped.
 
The cube continues to grow. It reached 92 centimeters (36.2″), the halfway point of Juopperi’s goal, while installed at the Kajaani Art Museum in 2018. By 2022, when it was installed at the Lappeenranta Art Museum, it rose to around 97 centimeters (38.2″). Juopperi buys more raanus when she has the money (not so often, she added). People occasionally donate raanus also, which she feels is an honor. 
 

“Heritage” on view at the Kajaani Art Museum, 2018. Photo provided by Elena Jupperi. 

Heritage has a simple shape, but is time-consuming to set up, as Juopperi describes.
 
This is from Lappeenranta museum. The work is at its halfway point, at the moment it takes me from 2 to 3 weeks full-time work to put all the raanus in cube form. Therefore – it’s quite hard work for me and demands also a lot from the museum- for Lappeenranta I opted to show all the raanus in slightly different installation form. I started the cube form and the raanus which I didn’t have time to pile up (5 full working days here!), we showed in the room but still in their rolls. The work is really about collection/archive also, so it was important for me that everything is shown, even though I don’t have time to pile them up. 

“Heritage” at the Lappeenranta Museum, 2022.

I was not sure of the correct translation for the title of Juopperi’s work Perintö. Inheritance? Legacy? Heritage? She responded thoughtfully:

I use Heritage in English. Heritage is the translation I opted [for] and I stand behind. The reason I use Heritage – even though I’m showing objects – is: I am more talking about the immaterial heritage, all the know-how (from growing lambs, to making yarn, to dyeing, up to weaving). In Finland the immaterial heritage has been hugely ignored and abandoned, especially if it was female know-how. The word Perintö can be either immaterial heritage or an object you inherit from someone. In Finland people, with the word Perintö, tend to think about the objects you get after your parents die, instead of the most important: the immaterial know-how – which is our culture. In France the situation is not the same.

Photo: Elina Juopperi.

Juopperi is always trying to find ways to make her work more visible, even for those whom do not visit museums. Before the exhibition at Kajaani Art Museum she needed to clean some raanus purchased at a flea market. Rather than hiding this part of the work, she opted to do it in public. In this photo the newly bought raanus are getting freezer treatment on the fence of the museum visible to passers-by.

Will Heritage reach its full height and become a cube in coming years? Follow along on the “Raanu Raanu” Facebook page, which Juopperi updates when she works on her project. 

August 2022
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 

In Honor of Alma: A Reconstructed Rag Rug

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By Robbie LaFleur

At the turn of the 20th century, seven-year-old Alma Norha traveled with her mother and paternal grandmother to the Iron Range in northern Minnesota, where her father had already traveled.  The farm she came from was Norhala, in Jalasjärvi (in what is now Etelä Pohjanmaa/South Ostrobothnia, in western Finland). They moved to Embarrass, Minnesota, a community that remained almost completely Finnish until the expansion of the taconite mines on the Iron Range in the 1950s. 

Did the Norhas know they were moving to such a frigid spot in their new country? Each winter residents of Embarrass frequently report the lowest temperature in the nation to the National Weather Service. The Embarrass website includes the nickname “The Cold Spot.” 

Later, Alma married her second cousin; their grandmothers were sisters.  Eino had the same last name, Norha, as he grew up on the same farm in Finland before moving to Minnesota at age 19.

Eino and Alma Norha, 1958. Photo provided by Barb Yarusso.

As a young wife and mother, Alma sewed and did various forms of needlework. When her arthritis flared in the early 1950s, she obtained a loom from her sister and took up a typical Finnish-American craft, weaving rag rugs. This was very common in the Finnish-American community, frugal women weaving durable rugs from discarded household textiles and old clothing, sitting at looms like those of their Finnish ancestors. Alma wove many rugs before her death in 1961.

Alma’s descendants own several of her rugs. Photo: Barb Yarusso

Alma’s loom was likely a sturdy, two-shaft loom, as all of her rugs were woven in plain weave, and she only wove rag rugs. Her husband Eino warped the loom for her, and he likely learned the skill as a boy from his mother Josefiina, or “Fiina,” who was a skilled weaver. 

A Finnish legacy–a twill towel woven by Josefiina “Fiina” Norhala, from linen she grew and spun herself. Photo: Barb Yarusso.

Another Generation, Another Finnish-American Weaver 

Alma’s granddaughter, Barb Yarusso, lives in Shoreview, Minnesota, and is following in her grandmother’s footsteps, or rather, in pushing down the treadles of her loom to weave rag rugs. 

Barb could afford to buy the most beautiful new fabric to weave her rag rugs, or just buy new rugs, but recently she chose a different challenge to honor her grandmother and the Finnish-American tradition. She chose to re-weave, shot by shot, rag by rag, a threadbare rug made by her grandmother Alma. The old rug had seen many years of use in the front entry of the Norha farmhouse in Embarrass. 

Barb Yarusso’s husband David Yarusso outside the Norha farmhouse, 1979. Photo provided by Barb Yarusso. Side note: the interesting asphalt siding was added in 1932, and is still on the farmhouse today.

Loose rags erupted from the surface of the old rug in many worn patches. But those rags! Could they have come from Alma’s dress, or Eino’s shirt? Think of how many relatives’ feet had crossed the rug. Barb decided to put a strong, new warp on her loom and insert the old rags, to make a new heirloom of old materials. 

The old and worn rug, ready for replacement. Photo: Barb Yarusso

Barb is a member of the Rag Rug Interest Group at the Weavers Guild of Minnesota, and the members made helpful suggestions. One key piece of advice was to make the new rug a different width than the old, so worn selvedge areas of the weft wouldn’t line up in the same spots.

When the new rug was woven at a different width, these broken rags didn’t end up at each edge, but were tucked into the body of the rug. Photo: Barb Yarusso

Barb found the project satisfying, and discovered that even though she was re-weaving rag-by-rag, the original rug may have looked quite different…

It was a very satisfying project. I could really connect with the decisions made by Grandma as she wove the rug, from the planning of the color changes to working around the color that seems to have been in short supply (the red). I could also tell that the weft was originally even more colorful, because the insides of the strips showed more intense purple and yellow, and there had been a red and white print, as well as a red, white and blue print. At first I thought I could reroll the strips to show this, but they were too fragile.

Another recommendation from the Rag Rug Study Group was to use darker warp, rather than the original blue and white, since new white warp would starkly contrast with the old weft. Barb used navy blue and “linen” (a warm tan) in 8/4 cotton rug warp.

Old to new – you can see the old rags coming out on the left, and being inserted into the new warp on the right. Photos: Barb Yarusso

The reconstructed rag rug is now ready for many more years of use. Memories of Grandmother Alma still burn bright.

Almost complete (only the hemming remains)! The very same stripes are revived.  5’8″ long x . Photo: Barb Yarusso.

August 2022
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

 

Raanu: A Minimalist Work of Art (Part One)

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By Pälvi Myllylä

(Editor’s note: This essay appeared as a blog post on the site of the Finnish magazine Antiikki & Design, and is printed here with permission of the author. Translated by Pirjo Heikkilä.)

Sunset. The glow of lilacs. Red berries of rowan. Midsummer yellow sun. A field landscape. A mist over the lake. Nature has always been the inspiration for Finnish raanus. It can sometimes be hard to remember, as most of the raanus date back to the 1970s, when the use of colors was by no means passive. 

A great example of the use of 1970s colors in raanu – lime green, red-orange, and black.

A raanu is a type of simple woven textile, first used as blankets and later as wall textiles. Raanus rose to popularity in the 1970s, when a wildly colorful fashion prevailed in Finnish interiors. The raanu fit like a nose to the head. [Editor’s note: This is a Finnish idiom – something that is a perfect match fits like a nose to the head.]  The tobacco-brown and pine-green walls were joined by the most imaginative raanu color schemes. But over the generations, raanus moved from the walls to the darkest attics and corners of the linen closet. They are rarely found in modern interiors.

Green…

Yellow and black

Redder than red…

…and even blue!

Raanus have always been in the life and family of the artist Elina Juopperi. The artist became enthusiastic about exploring the natural subjects that inspired the raanu and started photographing “raanu-like” subjects – even wild colors could be found directly in nature, if you only knew how to look properly. Eventually every landscape begins to look like a raanu.

Elina Juopperi, Study 05, 2008-2011. Installation. Collection of the State Art Commission. The installation was presented at the 60th anniversary exhibition of the State Art Commission at the Visavuori museum (which ended February 5, 2017).

While implementing her series, Elina Juopperi noticed that people were happily giving up their raanus; flea markets and recycling centers were full of them. Juopperi started to collect raanus to implement a new, amazing contemporary art project. She used raanus to reproduce the iconic “Die” sculpture of sculptor Tony Smith from 1962. The sculpture is a cube with dimensions borrowed from Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man drawing: each side is 180 cm (approximately 6 feet) wide.

Elina Juopperi’s Heritage was exhibited at various stages. The work-in-progress was exhibited at the Visavuori Museum and at the Sinkka Museum as part of the “Yarn Visions” exhibit in 2017.

Elina Juopperi assembling the work Heritage at the Visavuori museum.

In her speeches and works, Elina Juopperi equates the traditional raanu with modern minimalist art: the clear color fields and rhythmic design language are like textbook minimalism. For some reason, the color choices and clear color fields that seem natural in painting feel foreign to modern viewers when seen in textiles.

Individuals donated raanus to Juopperi’s work: In Valkeakoski, almost 30 were donated. The names of donors were noted alongside the art work. The raanus remained intact, meaning they were not chopped or processed in any way. So Juopperi’s work is the best way to preserve raanu heritage for future generations in the form of a work of art!

A detail of a raunu called Syreeni, what a beautiful purple and green!

The title of Elina Juopperi’s piece Perintö (Heritage) essentially tells what the piece is about – tradition and heritage. Textiles often carry stories and significant emotional value.  Juopperi received several donations at the Visavuori museum, for example, in which the couple gave up their wedding gift. In the Heritage piece, the raanu continues their life and story, and remains on display – unlike in many homes, where the raanus are rolled into the darkest corner of a storage closet.

The  craze came to an end in the 1980s, and in the 1990s no one was actually making them anymore. It’s a pity, because it would have been interesting to see what colors and designs would have been used in raanu as fashion changed. You can already see a clear change in the color schemes in raanus from the 1980s, with pastels and softer colors taking over.

A 1980s raanu

I confess: I myself have not cared much about raanus. Admittedly, there are many special memories associated with them. My mother wove them in the hall of Taivalkoski Citizens’ College in the 1970s, in the house next to the church and the town hall. They are nicely done, but have not made their way to the walls of any of her children.

As I got to know the ideology of Elina Juopperi’s work, I really started to look at both raanus and the world around me with completely different eyes: now I look out the window and realize that every landscape has changed to look like a raanu. Looking at raanus as minimalist art, on the other hand, has given us the tools to look at the brightly colored surfaces in a different way – they seem to fall into place and not argue with each other.

Elina Juopperi: Heritage, a work-in-progress piece shown at the Visavuori museum.

The work Heritage also gives us reason to think about the formation of history, because when the textiles are stacked, it is as if layers of earth are formed. Each layer is unique and tells its own story – the story of a person, family or even a village may be embedded in each layer of soil. And at the same time, each unique raanu becomes part of a unified whole, revealing only a small part of itself and serving the whole as the sum of one small part.

I am hugely glad that in Finnish heritage our historical strata are mainly light red, orange and yellow–not brown, black and gloomy.

Pälvi Myllylä, October 4, 2016

Pälvi Myllylä is the director of Visavuori museum in Valkeakoski, Finland. She has a Master of Science in Art history  from Jyväskylä University. She is a journalist and art critic for the publications Etelä-Suomen Sanomat and Antiikki & Design, and has written about Finnish artists including cartoonist Kari Suomalainen, sculptor Emil Wikström, Olga Gummerus-Ehrström and Eric O.W. Ehrström. She is interested in various textile and handicraft techniques in art, and enjoys exploring handcraft techniques herself.  
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Wynne Mattila: The Raanu Tradition Continues in Minnesota

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By Robbie LaFleur 

A blog post from the publishers of Selvedge Magazine caught my eye earlier this year, “The Forgotten Finnish Raanu,” by Minna Stubina (January 2, 2022). The post incudes many vibrant photos; be sure to read it. 

Stubina wrote, “The raanu craze faded toward the end of 1980s and by 1990 nobody was making raanus anymore.” But wait! This line isn’t true in Minnesota. One of the most popular classes taught at the Weavers Guild of Minnesota is Wynne Mattila’s raanu rug class. It has been offered five times in the past decade, and each session fills quickly.

Not even the pandemic stopped her classes. She taught three students from Michigan via zoom in 2020. “I’ve found that students who have a Finnish background really connect to this particular structure,” Wynne said. She is currently tutoring a student in Wisconsin on raanu rug weaving over Facetime.  He is weaving his second raanu, inspired by the brightly colored flowers in pots on his deck.

Wynne learned about raanu weaving in 1994, at a workshop taught by Finnish-born Pirkko Karvonen, who lived and wove in Canada. Pirkko introduced her students to many types of raanu; one was woven with fine threads that resembled a coverlet, while some resembled the familiar striped raanus like those featured in the Selvedge article. Inspired by her Finnish teacher, Wynne began raanu exploration. She explained, “And because I am a rug weaver, I took one of these [class] samples and beefed it up, making it thicker and better suited for the floor.”

During a trip to Finland, Wynne learned that Lapland raanu, from Finland’s northernmost region, are used to cover goahti (tent-like structures) or for warmth as blankets in the Arctic climate. The braided warp fringes of the Lapland raanu are used to tie the raanu together on the goahti. The colors in the raanu are often arranged to tell a story about nature. These raanu are woven in weft-faced plain weave on an upright loom.

Wynne Mattilla. “Aurora.”

Wynne weaves raanu rugs on a floor loom. “I love that two colors of yarn, two shafts, and two treadles can create a design that is visually simple or extremely complex. I love to design as I weave—even with two colors, the possibilities are endless.”

Wynne Mattilla. “Black and White Raanu.”

Raanus became an important part of Wynne’s weaving and teaching life. She first taught raanu as one of four weave structure options in a weft-faced wool rug class at the Weavers Guild of Minnesota from 1998-2004, before developing her raanu-only class for the Weavers Guild of Minnesota. Student Lisa-Ann Bauch  commented, “I’ve taken Wynne’s raanu class several times. I love how she emphasizes both the technical aspects of weaving a good raanu and also the idea of finding personal color inspiration in the natural world.” 

Lisa Ann Bauch, “Early Spring.” I took a walk in the woods near my house after the snow was gone, but before the trees had leafed out. I was struck by the bright green moss and purple raspberry canes emerging from under the brown and orange of the dead leaves.”

Wynne recently finished a commissioned raanu, Kuusisto,. The title is taken from a family name that translates to “spruce grove.”

I was commissioned to weave what will become the family heirloom for a man who was born in Finland but left at an early age.  At one point, he came by with his daughter, who will inherit it someday, so they could see it on my loom.  It was a joyous piece to weave and I’m honored that one of my pieces is the beginning of their inheritance.

Wynne Mattilla. “Kuusisto,” 2022.

How Kuusisto was woven

Wynne’s plan for this nature-based raanu was to weave a Finnish landscape, as if the viewer was looking through evergreen and birch trees during all seasons of the year.  It is a piece best viewed up close.  The numerous color changes create glimpses of the colorful beauty found in nature. Thirty colors were used to capture the shade of natural elements in the raanu. 

  • the northern lights – greens, reds, purples, turquoise, citron yellow, light and dark moss green
  • evergreen trees – darker green, black-hued green
  • amanita muscaria mushroom – reds and whites
  • winter landscapes – dark blue water, light blue ice, periwinkle gray shadows on snow
  • birch tree trunks, reindeer moss –  yellow white, gray white
  • lakes and sky – shades of blue
  • sunrises – reds, gold, pinks, citron yellow, lavender
  • flowers – purples and pinks of pasque flowers; blues, purples and pinks of lupine; honey gold for the flower of Lapland

Wynne explained: 

Weaving a raanu with many colors of yarn can appear “too busy” to me.  (When I wove “Aurora”, I placed cool colors on the “wide” column and warm colors on the “narrow” column.)  I decided for “Kuusisto”, the yarn on the “wide” column would always be a darker value than the adjacent color(s) on the “narrow” column.  

Wynne Mattilla. “Kuusisto,” 2022. (detail) 28.75” wide by 90” long. 8/5 Irish linen warp at 10 ends per inch. Weft: Halcyon Geo wool rug yarn. 7 strand flat braids for end finishing,

Wynne plans carefully, but leaves room for her passion to design at the loom. 

To manage the 30 shuttles of yarn while weaving, I placed the darker colors in one bin, and the lighter colors in another bin.  I designed as I wove at the loom, recording dark and light sections and high contrast colors on my project record to track the rhythm of my raanu as it progressed.  I let my eye choose which color to use next.

Wynne Mattila’s yarn cards for weaving “Kuusisto.” The left card shows colors on the wide column and the right two cards show colors on the narrow column.  Occasionally a yarn moved from the narrow column to the wide column, but it was always a darker value than the adjacent narrow column color.

The raanu craze continues

 

There is an unbroken link of Finnish raanu tradition continuing in Minnesota, thanks to the dedication of Pirkko Karvonen and Wynne Mattila as teachers and weavers.

August 2022
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