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Why Cotton as Linen? The Use of Wool Beds in Norway

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Why Cotton as Linen? The Use of Wool Beds in Norway.
Ingun Grimstad Klepp, Tone Skårdal Tobiasson & Kirsi Laitala.

Sometimes fascinating historical research lies a bit buried in academic journals, collections of scholarly papers, or published as chapters in books. This article appeared in Textile: The Journal of Cloth and Culture, Vol. 14, No. 1, August 2016. While it was important to textile scholarship, it is also very interesting to weavers and fans of Norwegian textiles and Norwegian cultural history. A link to the article appears below, courtesy of Oslo Metropolitan University and the authors.  But first, here is the abstract, followed by a brief sampling of details and anecdotes. 

Abstract
Cotton is the “natural” choice and the dominating material in bedlinen and sleepwear in Norway as in many other European countries. Regulation of temperature and humidity are important for good sleep, but not cotton’s strong points. There must have been other than the functional reasons which made cotton the winner in the bedding market. The article builds on literature about bedding in Norway from the 1800s and survey questions from 1951. We ask the question: what materials have been used and why? Wool was used in all bed textiles, both closest to the body and the layers over and under, from cheapest, chopped rags to the most costly textiles. The decline is seen throughout the 1800 and 1900s, but only in the 1960s does wool become totally absent as a next to skin bed textile. The cheap imports of cotton made cottage-industry and home production unprofitable and the new emphasis on cleanliness gave cotton a clear leverage.

 

A wool bolster, a head pillow filled with feathers, from the Sverresborg Trøndelag Folkemuseum. https://digitaltmuseum.no/021026904648/bolster

A few comments and excerpts from the article:

One of the two main sources for the article is Eilert Sundt’s book On Cottage Industry in Norway (1868). Sundt (1817-1875) was the central researcher on daily life in 19th century Norway. The paper includes many references to the use of sheepskins on beds historically. Did you ever consider how you might switch from your long-haired sheepskin in the winter to a summer fleece with shorter fleece, just like we switch out our blankets for the seasons?  From the article:

Sundt writes that it was taken into account what the pelt was to be used even before slaughter. If meant for a summer-pelt, the wool would be shorter than for winter. For lower classes, this kind of distinction was irrelevant. Wealthier households had not only two sets, but also new pelts hanging in a row in the attic, awaiting visitors. 

Bed coverings were important and valuable household items. “A bed with its bedding was in 1760 valued to 130 riksdaler at a time when a cow was worth 3 of the same currency.”

The second primary source of data for this paper was a survey done in 1951 by the Norwegian Ethnology Investigation, in which consumers were asked about beds and bedgear, “then and now.” From that survey and other sources, the authors discuss the use of sheepskins for bedding, and how their use was discontinued. Here’s a bit:

According to an informant from Telemark, the usage of pelts disappeared in the 1870s, while others tell of continued use until the Second World War. Several coverlet-owners from Røros say they slept with sheepskins every night as late as the 1960s. One clearly remembers that he was “sleeping with pelts until January 9, 1961 – it was the day he went into the military.” In an article on bedding in Hedemark, Haugen concludes that sheep skin as cover was usual until the middle of the 20th century.

Several mention lack of pelt or skin makers as the reason for the change from pelts to woven materials. Almost every village had a pelt maker in earlier times. The pelt makers prepared the skins and mounted them into a whole. “But this craft as so many others have become factory-work.”

A sheepskin maker, Per Hansson Dalåsen, in 1959. From the Norwegian Digital Library, https://digitaltmuseum.no/021016983846/skinnfellmaker

I’m glad I’ve never needed to think about the use of ants in laundry to take care of fleas.

Fleas were a common problem and kept in check by different methods. One way was to let insects (ants or water spiders) take care of the lice, e.g. by lowering the laundry into the water and let the insects feast (Sundt 1869, 242). Another way to kill the small pests was to use the heat in the sauna. Garborg recommends in the book Home Care (Garborg 1899/1922, 13) airing and beating the bedding, at a minimum once a week. She claims that “much frailty comes of sloppy care of bedding.” She believes sheep skins to be a bad thing during the summer, as well as non-removable covers on duvets and pillows.

Most people know of Fritjof Nansen as a noted polar explorer. Nansen also held firm opinions about the health benefits of wool and fresh air, as noted in a Bergen newspaper in 1883. 

Away with these cold and clammy sheets, away with these linen and simply woven covers on matrasses, pillows and duvets; instead use fabrics from wool – immerse yourself in two good woolen blankets, place wool under your head, open the window and don’t close out the fresh air; it will enhance your body’s breathing and health.

The authors conclude:

We believe that cotton took over as a fiber of choice for bed-linen, through cleanliness and price. Linen as a material had been highly valued. It demanded both a financial surplus and competence. One explanation for the quick acceptance and popularity is that it made something which was considered a luxury economically feasible. The status of the linen was transferred to cotton. 

Thanks again to Oslo Metropolitan University and the authors; Ingun Grimstad Klepp, Tone Skårdal Tobiasson, and Kirsti Laitala.  Enjoy the full article at the link below.
Robbie LaFleur 

Why Cotton as Linen? The Use of Wool Beds in Norway

 

 

 

Norwegian Tapestry in the Post-War Years

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Editor’s note: Annemor Sundbø wrote a book about spelsau sheep–and so much more–in 2015, Reflections on the Ancient Nordic Sheep: Mythology & Magic, Folk Beliefs & Traditions [Spelsau og Samspill, Glansfull ull og lodne skjebnetråder: Myter og Refleksjoner]. This is a translation of Chapter 31, “Post-War Decor.” Read Chapter 30 in the previous issue of this newsletter: “Norwegian Tapestry: Historical Weaving Treasures and National Romantic Impulses.”

Honoring Norway with monumental tapestries

In the years immediately following the war, the nation of Norway was to be rebuilt and new modern public buildings erected.  Works of art were to be included, underscoring the nation’s pride by promoting the essence of Norway.  In that context, yarn from the old Nordic spelsau sheep came into its own through modern pictorial art.

At the same time, Oslo was to celebrate its 900-year anniversary. In 1946 an art competition was announced by the Society for the Welfare of Oslo, with the subject matter to be the city’s history.  The competition was open to tapestry and a total of 25 entries were submitted.  All designs were to be accompanied by a weaving sample, which drew artists’ attention to what the materials might have to offer and tempted many painters to create designs for tapestry.

For the most part it was men who submitted designs for the Oslo City Hall, the Norwegian Parliament, Akershus Fortress, the Royal Palace and a number of other institutions.  Artists such as Bjarne Rise, Håkon Stenstadvold and Kåre Jonsborg had large tapestries made under the direction of Else Halling.

Magnificent tapestry for Oslo’s City Hall

Kåre Mikkelsen Jonsborg’s design, Batalje på Lilletorget [Confrontation at the Town Square] won the competition. A journalist for Aftenposten, writing under the pseudonym “Bolo,” wrote that the image went through a lengthy development process before it became a tapestry cartoon: “For this is what has determined such an impressive result, that the painter has immersed himself so respectfully and thoroughly into the requirements of the textile technique that all his intentions could be fully expressed in the tapestry’s own natural language.”

 “Batalje på Lilletorget” by Kåre M. Jonsborg.  The tapestry was sensational in its time due to its size, 7.5 x 3.6 meters.  The expression was modern, but it was executed in an “old Norwegian” tapestry tradition that was to represent an unbroken line from Viking women’s victorious weavings to the rebuilding of the nation of Norway after years of occupation and war  .Photo: Frode Inge Helland. Tapestry in Oslo City Hall. Reconstruction of faded colors. May not be exacltly like the original, but gives an impression of its original appearance.

Tapestry makes headlines

“The Oslo textile will create a new era in Norwegian tapestry. The monumental work makes thoughts of a central studio for tapestry a certainty,” wrote “Bolo” with excitement.

It took two and a half years for Else Halling and her assistants, Sunniva Lønning, Synnøve Thorne and Randi Nordbraathen (Bierman), to complete the tapestry.  Else Halling commented in a newspaper interview that she and Sunniva could not praise Kåre Jonsborg enough, for… “he can both think, compose and draw tapestry.”

The newspaper Verden’s Gang (10/30/1948) had the following caption: “Else Halling at the loom.  Sunniva Lønning in charge of materials and dyes. Kåre Mikkelsen, cartoon.  Only yarn from the guardhair of spelsau sheep has been used, a material that is especially suitable for our tapestries.  7.5 x 3.60 [meters] high.  Randi Nordbraaten and Synnøve Thorne assist in The Norwegian Handcraft Association’s tapestry studio.”

Monumental work with woven design

Kåre Jonsborg really immersed himself in the tapestry technique.  He built a loom himself and studied the tools and processes in detail. This was noted by newspaper journalist “J.,” who commented in the year before the opening of City Hall: “It would have been nice to see the powerful painter Kåre Mikkelsen Jonsborg sitting and puttering with fine wool threads in a homemade loom.That is in fact what he did before he undertook the competition to design the huge tapestry that the Society for the Welfare of Oslo has ordered, with the Kraft-Bull endowment, for hanging in the Revold hall at Oslo City Hall.”

The design was prepared with color fields that were to be woven with handspun yarn. The yarn was dyed with plant materials to correspond with the color tones in the design. Thus the painter, spinner, dyer and the weavers formed a unit, and the tapestry was a joint work. The starting point for this tapestry was modern, painterly principles from the fresco technique, which was created to decorate walls in large buildings. The loom was made so that the entire tapestry could be seen from beginning to end. In this way, Jonsborg could observe the entire weaving while it was being woven.

In the opinion of the press, the Oslo tapestry would usher in a new era in Norwegian applied art, as significant as the flourishing of decorative wall painting.  “Bolo” encouraged investment in a central studio for tapestry weaving, which director Thor B. Kielland at the Norwegian Museum of Arts and Crafts [Kunstindustrimuseet] was planning.  

“We can do this!” declared Kielland.

The Else Halling Era of large-scale tapestries

Oslo’s new City Hall was opened in 1950.  In the festive gallery, Batalje på Lilletorget was unveiled, and up to that time it was the largest tapestry in Norway’s history.  The tapestry drew attention far beyond the country’s borders.  One of the capital’s newspapers wrote that “the public and critics were dumbfounded with admiration.”

Unveiling a dream

The tapestry was decisive in realizing Thor B. Kielland’s big dream, the establishment of Norsk Billedvev AS [Norwegian Tapestry LLC].  He entered into a partnership with The Norwegian Handcraft Association and the Norwegian Museum of Arts and Crafts in Oslo, with Else Halling serving as professional director from 1951.  Norsk Billedvev’s projects were mostly focused on themes drawn from Norwegian history, but the studio also produced copies of historic tapestries from the collection of the Norwegian Museum of Arts and Crafts.

Female artists and the St. Hallvard tapestry

Even though Kåre Jonsborg’s tapestry received the largest space and the most attention, he was not the first to unveil a monumental tapestry.

The beautiful “St. Hallvard” tapestry, which was to be hung behind the Mayor’s seat in the City Council’s hall in Oslo, was delivered in the middle of March, 1948.  Else Poulsson both composed and drew the design for this tapestry.  Even though she received great praise for her work, she did not receive the same attention that Kåre Jonsborg did, despite her tapestry being first.

Else Poulsson. St. Hallvard. 1946. Photo by Ingvild Brekke Myklebust (detail). From the website of the Oslo Regional Art Collection.

In the newspaper Morgenbladet, journalist “Candida” noted that the tapestry would serve to tell future generations how the artists of our time solved the challenges of a great task: “The weaving is, of course, completely perfect in execution, despite the large format and the many details, which surely required great attention both in terms of color choice and technique.” (Morgenbladet 03/14/1948)

Else Poulsson. St. Hallvard. 1946. Photo by Ingvild Brekke Myklebust (detail). From the website of the Oslo Regional Art Collection.

It took two years for Else Halling and four assistants to weave Else Poulsson’s tapestry.  The size of the tapestry was 3.33 x 5.30 meters (10.9 x 17.4 feet) and it weighed 14 kilograms (30.9 pounds). Randi (Nordbraathen) Bierman spun most of the weft yarn from spelsau guardhair, which perhaps amounted to 10 kilograms (22 pounds).  It required half a year for Sunniva Lønning to gather enough guardhair for spinning and plant material for dying.

Newspapers pay tribute to the return of guardhair

With this tapestry, Miss Halling and Miss Lønning, both teachers at the National Women’s Art and Design School [Statens kvinnelige Industriskole], have continued with the major restoration work in Norwegian tapestry weaving that they began during the war, returning to the silk-fine, long-haired, hard-spun spelsau yarn and the lightfast natural dye colors that characterize the famous Norwegian Renaissance tapestries.

They note that in the guardhair of our Norwegian spelsau wool we have finally found a material that is good enough for artistic rendering. It is a decorative material that places great demands on composition and execution. In fact, it reveals all shortcomings and doesn’t cast a disguising veil over poor composition or inadequate craftsmanship, in contrast to ordinary wool yarn, whose fibers can gloss over deficiencies.

Now that we have found the right material for Norwegian tapestry going forward, it becomes a question of whether we will find able designers within the populace, whether we have tapestry weavers with the skill and experience to raise the work to an artistic handicraft. Tapestry should not be just a hobby, it requires the weaver’s full commitment, say the two pioneering women who will soon set to work on another piece for Oslo City Hall.

Randi Nordbraaten and Synnøve Thorne are Elsa Halling’s talented co-workers and earlier students. Sunniva Lønning handles the natural dying. She has worked with spelsau wool for years, she knows its worth and possibilities, and we see her confident and discerning sense in each skein of yarn and every color. Had the tapestry been woven in regular wool yarn, the colors would have been smothered. Instead we see a textile of clear color fields, full of beauty. Here we have a work that will shine.

Rolf Jensen, “R-IST.”  Verden’s Gang 9/20/1949

Randi Nordbraathen Bierman spun almost all of the 10 kilograms of guardhair yarn that went into the St. Hallvard tapestry for the City Council hall in Oslo.  She was one of the weavers who participated in creating the tapestry.

Excited press

In 1967 the Norwegian Museum of Arts and Crafts held a large exhibition of old tapestries from the 17th and 18th centuries, together with replicas.  The old and the new tapestries hung side by side.  The exhibition created a great deal of excitement, and favorable reviews appeared in the newspapers.  Arne Durban wrote in Morgenbladet: “Of greatest importance now is that the Norwegian cultural sphere recognizes what priceless value [the studio] Norsk Billedvev can provide. It’s hard to imagine something more outstanding and representative than this large tapestry, representing as it does the use of art in the very best way. As such it contributes to a representative interior, providing a public building with the right character.”

Else Poulsson answered in Dagbladet with an appeal to individuals and to the authorities to take note of the uniqueness created from spelsau: “Else Halling has never strayed a hair’s breadth from the path she has thought was the right way to go, never yielded an inch on the need to maintain quality. I would recommend that anyone with an interest in high quality and art see the exhibition, not least the granting authorities who can give the Norsk Billedvev Studio, together with our artists, many new tasks for the benefit of us all.” [Excerpted from Norsk Billedvev: Et Atelier og en Epoke (Norwegian Tapestry: A Studio and an Epoch). Øystein Parmann. Oslo: Kunstindustrimuseum, 1982].

Artist + Craftsman = Sacred Work

Else Halling devoted her life to the weaving of genuine Norwegian tapestry utilizing guardhair yarn from the old Norwegian sheep.  Her attitude towards the work was that one person should create the cartoon and another person should weave it with insight and skill.  She felt that while she could not teach someone to be an artist, she could teach them the technical skills of weaving.  If the technique was not first rate, then the tapestry could not be considered fully realized.  She emphasized the importance of a technically competent weaver being involved in all the processes and maintained that the weaver had to be able to do all steps, from drawing the cartoons to sorting the wool and spinning and dyeing the yarn. Yet a distinction between the artist and the experienced handicraft worker must remain. She stated: “It is handcraft that makes it possible to execute an artist’s design. It is a handcrafter’s art as well as an artist’s handcraft.”

Meeting with Else Halling

I met Else Halling when I was a spinning student of Sunniva Lønning and studying to become a weaving teacher.  She was 75 years old, I was an eager spelsau enthusiast, and was perhaps all of 24 years old. Helen Engelstad was my official director and also a very generous teacher of textile history. In that context I was invited to her home to meet Else Halling.

A tuft of wool in hand

At that time I was working with a textbook about spinning spelsau yarn with a drop spindle because I had a firm belief that a tuft of spelsau wool was as appropriate in a handbag as a powder puff–and that a drop spindle was as natural to have in hand as a key or a corkscrew.  In that way, every spare moment could be filled with something useful, which in my world was to spin spelsau yarn. I had rediscovered the drop spindle and seen how simple it was to make yarn when one needed it. If a hole appeared in a sock, then – zip – out comes a tuft of wool, the spindle is given a few turns, and the hole in the sock is darned in a jiffy with super strong new yarn!

But alas – I had no idea that the art of darning would gradually be forgotten in the culture of abundance that was about to engulf us. Instead my fate was to recycle thousands of other people’s ragged socks into mattress stuffing, the result of a use-and-discard culture. My drop spindle was therefore left lying on a shelf for several years instead of being in my handbag.

Naturally dyed spelsau wool.

A small woman with immense power

Else Halling was a living legend, small in stature but high in ideals. I remember her from that evening as remarkably witty and plainspoken. She was like an earth mother and a goddess of wisdom all in one person. She ladled out stories from the weaving studio, about the hierarchy in the “hen house,” about the weavers and the lofty gentlemen. Unfortunately I don’t remember any particular story, but I will never forget the power and humor that radiated from Else Halling.

I am even more impressed today over how she and her other spinners managed to produce the quantities of guard-hair yarn that was needed towards the end of the war and in the time of sparse resources after the war, thus creating national monuments in the shape of tapestries in spelsau wool.

Else Halling was a small woman with immense power. Here she is spinning in her studio while two weavers work on a large tapestry.

Else Halling’s work notes

Every square meter of tapestry required one to two kilograms of yarn.  An experienced spinner could perhaps produce 250 grams in a day.  Else Halling kept a journal that recorded progress in her wool work.  Following are some excerpts from the war years that bring forth her own voice [Excerpted from Norsk Billedvev: Et Atelier og en Epoke (Norwegian Tapestry: A Studio and an Epoch). Øystein Parmann. Oslo: Kunstindustrimuseum, 1982].

In the summer of 1944 the wool for “The Feast of Herod” was ordered from Ravndalen, Rogaland, which likely has the largest spelsau sheep farm in Norway.We didn’t get the wool until August, but since I wanted to have a good deal of yarn spun over the summer in order to have some to start with, I was able to borrow some wool from the [National Women’s Art and Design] School, both black and white spelsau, and two of our students there promised to spin as much as they could.I also spun a little.There are very few who can spin spelsau wool, so the question of yarn was my biggest concern when I came to Oslo in August to take up this work.For dyeing I had secured Sunniva Lønning’s help, and as a result I knew that this could not be in better hands.Without her agreement to do the test dyeing, I wouldn’t have dared undertake this task.

An air raid alarm provided me with a spinner: Mrs. Indergard from Møre, who lives in the upper floor of the building, took shelter in my entryway, became interested and promised to help with the yarn.She has done this in the most exemplary way, and has shown great interest in making sure that the yarn shall be exactly as we wish it to be.

…The worst is when it begins to be so cold for sitting and working, especially in the evenings.And the light also begins to get quite bad.One must find the right color during the brightest time of the day, and then continue working on that basis for as long as possible

…I wonder if the color of the figures’ eyes has any symbolic meaning or whether it is completely coincidental that all the earthly figures have blue eyes while the holy figures are light in color? I must remember to check this in other tapestries.

30th of January, 1945. The tapestry is progressing quickly. We sit on stools, each on our own table, which we find quite troublesome. What we’ll be sitting on in a few days we don’t know. We weave in a race, with war and threatening clouds on all sides. The other day a car repair shop in the immediate neighborhood blew up, and several window panes in the building here were broken. Sabotage. So the responsibility for this historic old tapestry weighs heavily on me.

“FINISHED! It was a nightmare to weave in the last weeks, we stood on a box on top of a table and had to work with our arms raised much too high. A full work day was almost unbearable, and we were in agreement that we wouldn’t have managed one more week in that position. The warp was also so very tight and hard at the last, it cut the skin on our fingers.

…Still unresolved are the problems of whether the wool was from a half year or a full year’s growth, whether it was spun “together” or whether some of the undercoat of wool was removed.The latter seems most likely; they have surely needed the finest, softest wool for clothing. But this issue has great importance for the tapestry as it determines the actual feel and weight of the textile.

Guardhair yarn that was left unused after the closure of A/S Norsk Billedvev.

Annemor Sundbø is a Norwegian author, knitter, weaver, historian, and curator. Perhaps her best title is also the title of an extensive profile of her on The Craftsmanship Initiative website, “Norwegian Sweater Detective.” Her most recent book, Koftearven, which examines the development of the Norwegian sweater tradition as a national treasure, won the 2020 Sørland Literature Prize. annemor.com
Read more by Annemor Sundbø in earlier issues of the Norwegian Textile Letter: Nettles – For Clothing and Much More (November 2017), and A Rag Pile, My Lot in Life (May 2016).
Translated by Katherine Larson, Department of Scandinavian Studies, University of Washington

Art Weaving in Valdres: Part Two of Four

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The following is part two of an article by Karin Melbye Gjesdahl, “Weaving in Valdres” [“Vevkunst I Valdres”] published in Valdres Bygdebok, Vol. 5, 1964, pp. 27-35 and 636-637. (A bygdebok is a compilation of local history.) This section describing seven large tapestries connected to Valdres, and the postscript about the Leine Tapestry, were translated by Lisa Torvik in 2021.

Laurann Gilbertson, Curator at Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum, gets occasional inquiries about the historical Norwegian Leine Tapestry, woven in the 1600s and described in this essay. According to museum records, in the 1920s when the collection was at Luther College, the owner of the Leine Tapestry lent it for display at the museum. However, the owner was convinced that it was woven in the 11th century, and when staff at the museum more appropriately dated it in the 1600s, she was unhappy and took back the tapestry.  As you will read below, the tapestry was eventually sold “to a man in New York.” Where is it now? 

Preserved textiles are more abundant as we approach the 1600s.  It is then that Flemish or tapestry weaving enjoys tremendous growth here in [Norway.]  There is great disagreement as to what extent Flemish weaving occurred here in the Middle Ages, and whether it has been a continuous tradition from then to the Flemish weavings of the Renaissance era.  The only surviving medieval weaving in Flemish technique we have, the Baldishol tapestry, probably dates from around 1200.  Doubt has also been expressed as to whether the Baldishol tapestry was actually woven in Norway.  It has been called a “rare bird” in this country.  (Marta Hoffman,  A group of looms in Western Norway, pg. 40.) But of course it is entirely random as to what has been preserved of medieval textiles.  We will leave that question open for the moment, as things may yet turn up which change the picture.  We can only establish that under the influence of European tapestry weaving, tapestries were woven in a vertical format for the upper classes here in [Norway] at the end of the 1500s.  And this influence then probably spread from the estates of officialdom to other rural areas where tapestry weaving blossomed fully in the 1600s and beginning of the 1700s, primarily in the valley of Gudbrandsdal.

In comparison to the approximately 1200 tapestry works which are registered here in [Norway], the ca. 47 pictorial weavings from Valdres might seem relatively few.  But besides Trøndelag, Valdres is the district outside of Gudbrandsdal which has preserved the most works in tapestry.  How much of this work has actually been woven in Valdres, and how much was imported from other districts, is difficult to determine today. The motifs are largely the same as we find in our other tapestries, and we can demonstrate connection in the weavings with Gudbrandsdal, western Norway and in part also those from Trøndelag. But we also find distinctive features which may indicate that the weavings in tapestry technique have been woven in the [Valdres] valley.

The majority of the surviving material consists of pillow and cushion covers, but there are also 7 large tapestries which are attributed to Valdres in origin.

One of the most favored motifs in our tapestries is the story of the “three holy kings” [Three Wise Men or Magi] and their adoration of the Christ Child. Four tapestries from Valdres have this motif in two different formats.  The motif itself is frequently used throughout Christian art and is known from the early Middle Ages. The tale of the Three Wise Men from the East is a story which very early on appealed to the imagination, and which in the folk, and for that matter the religious, tradition was endowed with details which do not appear in the gospels.  “From Saba came the kings three” we sing in an old Christmas hymn from the 1400s.  Here in Norway we find the motif already carved on the Dynna-stone in Hadeland, which probably dates from the 11th century; on the reliquary casket in the Hedal stave church from ca. 1200; and in textile art from the embroidered fragment of cloth from Høylandet church in North Trøndelag, dated to the end of the 1100s, to name a few examples.

In the 1600s we see the motif among others painted in a frieze in the Eidsborg church in Telemark, dated 1604, where each of the kings on horseback, wearing Renaissance clothing, are framed within their own arch-shaped field, and where the frieze design leads us to think of the long, narrow tapestries of the Middle Ages.  We also see similar arched framing depicted in later painted Swedish tapestries.

We don’t know what was the direct model for two nearly identical tapestries from Valdres, one in the Nordiska Museet in Stockholm, and the other in private ownership in the U.S.A., (fig. 6). 

Fig. 6.  Tapestry from Leine, Vang [in Valdres.]  Private collection, U.S.A.

This tapestry was in the collection of the Nordiska Museet, but is now owned by the Norsk Folkemuseum. Details here.

The frieze-format is abandoned, the tapestry has been given the characteristic vertical format of the Renaissance and the three riders and adoration scene are each set in their own rectangular field.  It has been pointed out that the division of the back of a seat of honor or throne into rectangular panels might be the inspiration for this composition.  On our tapestries, the four fields are separated horizontally by a band with inscription, edged with a hatched border, and vertically with a double banded braid on each side of a border with stars and crosses. In all four fields there are buildings in the background and a stylized presentation of a tree on one side. The Magi have crowns on their heads and are dressed in Renaissance-style clothes with knee breeches and ruffed collars.  Two of them wear capes. The position of the horses varies from field to field, but all have short, brush-like manes, bound tails and the characteristic rigid stance we know from other depictions of riders in our folk art. In the upper right field sits Mary with the Child in her lap and the Magi kneeling before them. In all the fields the star shines against a deep blue sky. And otherwise the entire space is filled with flowers, leaves, stars and different types of ornamentation. A broad border consisting of a meandering vine with eight-petaled roses surrounds the tapestry, a border that appears in a great many of our tapestries.

The colors are mainly limited to red, blue, green, gold and white, with edges in natural black.  Both tapestries are adorned with an unreadable inscription and in the upper right corner “ANNO” and a year which no doubt should be read as 1625. It is remarkable that we know of eight almost identical tapestries which all bear the same year, and of which a number present the motif in the same way. All of these eight tapestries are so similar that they probably were created by the same hand. Now, as Thor Kielland [1984-1963, art historian, museum researcher and director and author] says in his book Norwegian Tapestry [Norsk Billedvev], it is very unlikely that the same weaver or weaving workshop could have woven eight such tapestries in the course of one year. It probably can be explained that the tapestries are copies of an older work which was dated 1625, and that these were woven sometime later. The inscription on the horizontal band also indicates that the weaver was not literate. Even if these inscriptions are read backwards, which often must be done because the weaver has the back side of the work towards herself as she weaves, no real meaning is discernible. The execution also feels somewhat systematic and stiff, as is often the case in our tapestries when the motif is copied from tapestry to tapestry.

Of the approximately 21 “Three Magi” tapestries in a quadratic composition that exist today, 9 are of determined origin:  5 are from Gudbrandsdal, 1 from South Trøndelag, 1 is from Sogn, and then we have these 2 from Valdres.   It is most likely that even these last two must have originally come from Gudbrandsdal.  Their color tones are quite close to other weavings from Gudbrandsdal.

The only information about the Valdres tapestry in the Nordiska Museet [Stockholm, but now in the collection of the Norsk Folkemuseum] is that it was purchased in 1874 in an art dealership in Kristiania [now Oslo.]   The U.S.A. tapestry was part of an exhibition at Luther College, Decorah (Iowa) in the 1920s. (Tora Bøhn, Silver tankards and tapestries of Norwegian origin in the U.S.A.  Nordenfjeldske Kunstindustrimuseum (Trondheim)  Yearbook 1950 fig. 11 [Sølvkanner og billedtepper av norsk opprinnelse I U.S.A.  Nordenfj. Kunstind.mus.  Årb. 1950])  This tapestry belonged to Mrs. Ingeborg Stende, née Leine.  She came from one of the Leine farms in Vang [in Valdres] and had received the tapestry from her father. She took the tapestry with her to America in 1871. As mentioned before, she related that this tapestry was lent out for funerals in her rural [Valdres] community. According to family tradition it was also used for a time to wrap the family silver (Valdres Union’s Christmas magazine 1926 [Samband julenummer 1926]). The present location of this tapestry is unknown.

The motif of the Three Magi also appears in another form in tapestries.  The tapestries we have discussed with their symmetric and well-balanced composition are clearly influenced by Renaissance art.  The other group, where the entire design is pressed together within an oval frame, is presumably following a Baroque model.  We often encounter such round or oval compositions within the Baroque, which was the reigning art form here [in Norway] in the last half of the 17th century.  Animals running along the oval frame that surrounds the center picture are also common in pictorial art of this period.  For example, we find them on carved tankards from the 1600s, but they also appear earlier during the 1400s, e.g. on decorated porcelain and brass dishes. 

This alternate Three Magi motif can be observed in 2 tapestries from Valdres.  Again we find the Magi/kings on their horses in the same characteristic positions as on the previous tapestries, and beneath them Mary with the Child.  A stylized tree borders the composition on one side.  The oval frame or band which surrounds it all appears to be rolled up at the top and bottom.  Around this band run animals, as mentioned, each of which is easy to identify, such as the fox with it white-tipped tail, the hare, the unicorn, the elephant and what is likely a bear.  There are several birds, and the one with the curved neck must be a pelican, which according to legend pecked its own breast to feed its chicks with blood.  On one of the tapestries, it has some red on its bill.  The uppermost animal with the snake-like hindquarters probably depicts a basilisk, a dangerous legendary creature which could kill with one naked look.  It is not easy to understand the connection between the Three Magi motif and these animals.  But it is worth noting that several of these same animals, with inscriptions of what they represent, appear as a frieze under the depiction of the Three Holy Kings in the Swedish bonad painting tradition.

The four corners of our tapestries are filled with winged heads of angels.  The entire background of the tapestry rectangles are filled with flowers, vines and small decorative figures.  This creates a somewhat motley, almost mosaic effect, but is at the same time a bit delightful with all these colors flickering before one’s eyes.  There are a number of examples of this design format of the Three Magi, and with small variations, they are quite similar. 

One of the tapestries from Valdres is now at the Nordiska Museet in Stockholm (fig. X) No other information about this tapestry is known except that it is originally from Valdres and that it was purchased in 1874 from an art dealership in Kristiania [Oslo].

Figure X

The other tapestry is at Valdres Folkemuseum (fig. 7). 

Figure 7. Tapestry from Leirhol or Remme, Vang. Valdres Folk Museum. Details here.

This tapestry is said to have been bought by sheriff Helge Thune at an auction on the Remme farm in Vang [Valdres] and later given to the museum.  Information available states that the tapestry was a part of a dowry that came to Remme from Leirhol [farm in Vang, Valdres.]  It is difficult to trace such claims today.  There is a record of inherited property from Remme in 1705.  No Flemish tapestry is mentioned in it.  On the other hand, a similar record of inheritance from Leirhol in 1701 lists a Flemish bedcovering valued at 2 rd.  However, it is quite unlikely that such a fine tapestry as the Remme-tapestry was not more highly valued than 2 rd.

The tapestry in the Nordiska Museet distinguishes itself from all the others in this group.  All the figures in the tapestry, including the angels and unicorns, are more naturalistic, not as stiff and stylized as on the other tapestries with this motif.  It is therefore probable that this is one of the oldest of this series and that it is closer to the original model, what we might call the source tapestry.  The palette of colors also varies somewhat from the rest.   It is true that the background is red, like the others, the horses are red or blue or white and the oval frame is gold, but there is a pale pink tone over the whole piece that we do not find in the other tapestries, those where a more brick red color dominates with inlay of gold, blue and green.

The most common motif on the border of these tapestries is the meandering rose vine shifting between red and blue eight-petaled roses on a pale red and blue ground.  This is also found on the tapestry from Remme.  The tapestry in the Nordiska Museet has a border on the longer vertical sides of opposing palmettos, actually pomegranates cut in two, and just a very narrow border with triangles at the top and bottom.

Thor Kielland explored the notion that this group originated in a Valdres weaving workshop since the tapestry believed to be the oldest came from Valdres.  But since four of the other weavings were determined to be from Skjåk and Lom [in Gudbrandsdal] and one from South Trøndelag, he decided that the group must belong to Gudbrandsdal after all, and also probably the one from Remme, though the one in the Nordiska Museet was possibly a Valdres variant of the motif based on its distinctive characteristics.

As far as dating goes, the year 1661 is woven into one of the Gudbrandsdal tapestries while the youngest piece in the group, which appears stylized and disorganized, is dated 1730.   As mentioned before, we cannot rely on these dates, but these do not seem improbable.  And while the tapestry in the Nordiska Museet must be an early expression of this motif, 1660 is certainly not too early to date it, as Kielland has done.  However, we will remain on the safe side if we date the tapestry from Remme at the end of the 1600s.   

Afterword regarding the Leine tapestry in USA

Valdres native Jøger O. Quale from Vestre Slidre, now in St. Paul, Minn., has given a lot of time and thought to finding out what happened to the valuable Leine tapestry.  He has relayed by letter dated July 26, 1964 this information, among other things:

Ingeborg Stende who owned the tapestry had lived in Ulen, Minnesota.  Quale traveled there with Knut Ødegaard and learned about an elderly lady with the last name Stende.  So he writes:  

She was a very fine elderly lady.  I asked if she was a daughter of Ingeborg Stende, but she was not.  She was the widow of John Stende, Ingeborg’s son.  She lived together with an older daughter.  Well, she knew of the tapestry.  Ingeborg’s son Thomas had taken care of it, she said.  He had died many years ago.  He had sent a photo and the tapestry itself around to various experts and academics.  Almost all of them believed it was made in Rome and came to Norway via Norwegian pirates.  Only one had written that was not as old as from 1025.  Thomas had finally sold the tapestry in the 1930s to a man in New York for $700. That was all she and the daughter knew of the tapestry, of which they had an unclear picture.  Ingeborg and John Stende came up to Ulen from Goodhue County and got homestead land there.”

That’s the way it can go with cultural treasures that come to the U.S.A.!  Quale deserves thanks for his research efforts.  The editorial board.

Editor’s note: This is the end of part two of “Art Weaving in Valdres.” Part three, which will be published in the November issue of the Norwegian Textile Letter, examines many smaller tapestries.

Nordic Notes, August 2021

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Classes

The fall and winter classes from Vesterheim Folk Art School include great new offerings, both for in-person and online classes. Check out the weaving list and the fiber arts list. You could needle felt a fjord horse, like the one shown here, in Laura Berlage’s class. 

 

Video

Karina Siegmund is a Norwegian artist. She was born in Germany, and now lives in Stadlandet, Sogn og Fjordane, where she surfs year-round(!). From her website: “Karina Siegmund creates audio-visual tapestry installations, and her use of sound and light gives her audience an experience of patterns in motion. Her motifs are taken from nature, in the form of a stormy cloud-cover on the sky, falling water, or the surface of the sea.” Meet her in this beautiful six-minute film. 

In a short (20-minute) talk in the Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum “Collections Connections” series, Robbie LaFleur acts as a “billedvev design detective.” Focusing on tapestries owned by the museum, she describes how a few of the most common motifs in traditional Norwegian tapestry are honored and repeated over time. See: “Investigating Norwegian Billedvev: A Conversation with Robbie LaFleur.”

For fans of tablet weaving! The Swedish Sörmlands museum posted a video (44 minutes) on the tablet weaving of Sonja Berlin several years ago. See: Brickväva band med Sonja Berlin. It is inspiring to see her work and studio, and the instruction and tips are valuable. It has English subtitles. There is a shorter video on Icelandic double weave bands woven with tablets (13 minutes), but it does not include subtitles. 

 

 

 

 

Socially Distanced, Creatively Connected: A Special Juried Folk Art Exhibition Highlighting Pandemic Creativity

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A Special Exhibit at Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum
July 2 to December 31, 2021

“2020 Bunad Mask” by Kathleen Almelien

Carrying forward the spirit and mission of Vesterheim Folk Art School, this exhibition includes  woodworking, rosemaling, knifemaking, blacksmithing, jewelry, weaving, and fiber art.

The artwork follows Norwegian folk-art traditions but also includes contemporary departures from the historical. Although the COVID-19 pandemic has caused many interruptions across the globe, creativity and the freedom of artistic expression has flourished, and the artwork that everyone submitted was inspirational.

The stories behind the artworks are equally interesting. The pandemic offered opportunities to learn a new skill, complete a project that was started some years ago, or celebrate family. Among the 70 pieces in a variety of media, textile makers were well represented. Enjoy their stories here, beginning with quilter Mike Ellingsen, whose piece won a Juror’s Award—congratulations. A People’s Choice Award will be determined at the end of the show in December. There is plenty of time for a trip to Decorah to make your choice! 

Mike Ellingsen, Decorah, IA
Bergen Fretex 2018

The front of the quilt is pieced cotton fabric with a 100% cotton batting and a 200 thread count muslin back. 

Visiting friends just before the onset of COVID-19, I noticed a woven rutevev (geometric square weave) tapestry on their living room wall. It had been purchased at the Fretex (Salvation Army) store in Bergen, Norway, in 2018. I took a photo for future inspiration. The world then stopped. I designed a quilt based on the photo, and created it totally from fabrics I already owned – no new purchases! The quilting patterns are based on rosemaling designs.

A retired high school choir and drama director, I’ve been quilting for about 40 years. The second floor of our Decorah home is my quilt studio. I am a quilter, pattern designer, lecturer, and teacher – and Minnesota’s 2020-2021 Quilter of the Year.

Laura Berlage, Hayward, WI
Inspired by Rosemaling

This needle felted artwork uses hand dyed wool, from the sheep on my farm, on a felt backing and was inspired by Telemark rosemaling. 

My burgeoning online connections during the pandemic have not only drawn me into the Vesterheim community but also allowed me to connect with fellow instructors and enthusiasts. Vesterheim staff gave me the challenge of creating a piece inspired by some of the artifacts in the collection, and I delightedly partnered with rosemaler Patti Goke to learn about this amazing art form and translate it into felt.

I’ve been working in fiber arts since I was at least eight years old but took up needle felting more recently. The delicate art of the painting with wool invites exploration of techniques and imagery otherwise difficult to capture in fiber.

Robbie LaFleur, Minneapolis, MN
Baldishol Duck

This was woven with open warp transparent tapestry in the style of noted Norwegian artist Frida Hansen using Norwegian spelsau-sheep yarn.

On March 12, 2020, I had woven three inches of this piece for a summer exhibit at Norway House. The imagery includes design elements from the famous Norwegian medieval Baldishol tapestry, and a bird. Two figures in the old tapestry represent April and May. My wood duck represents spring. Would the show even happen? Yes! This duck will forever be tied to uncertainty, social unrest, masks, and social distancing.

I was educated in traditional Norwegian weaving at Valdres Husflidsskole in Fagernes, Norway, in 1977. I received my Vesterheim Gold Medal in 2006. I am coordinator of the Weavers Guild of Minnesota’s Scandinavian Weavers Study Group and publisher of the Norwegian Textile Letter.

Margaret Listug, Stoughton, WI
Shawl for a Sør-Trøndelag Bunad

This is wool yarn embroidery – satin stitch and outline stitch – on wool fabric.

I loved the vivid colors against the black wool. It gave me hope during the dark days of the pandemic and gave me the goal of getting it completed as a daily focus, not the news.

I have been embroidering since I was a child and making Norwegian bunader (national costumes) for over 30 years. I have a degree in Textiles and Clothing from the University of Wisconsin- Madison.

Sharon Moe-Marquardt, Henning, MN
COVID Relief

This is a pillow in rosepath using 16/3 linen warp and a warp of Norwegian Brodergarn and Swedish Faro.

The Scandinavian Weavers Study Group of the Minnesota Weavers Guild are weaving rosepath pillows and many had been using the looms at the Textile Center of Minnesota in Minneapolis. Since I live in greater Minnesota, I proceeded on my own. My interpretation came from a vintage pillow, but I gave mine bright colors as I sat in quarantine for three weeks.

I met Syvilla Tweed Bolson in the early 1990s. I had tried weaving krokbragd (boundweave) from a book, but ran into roadblocks. From my first lesson with Syvilla, I continued to take lessons from her and at Vesterheim with teachers like Lila Nelson and Marta Kløve Juuhl.

Ann Prochowicz, Trempealeau, WI
Wintertide Windows Scarf

This is a handknit “infinity” scarf. It was knit using fingering-weight yarn in a blend of 80% Merino wool and 20% nylon.

Design inspiration came from solitary winter walks in the early morning and late afternoon. Square motifs represent the windows of the houses I pass, as well as the grid-like pattern of the village streets. Sometimes the streets are intersected, hence the shift to diagonal triangles. The colors shift through the blues and purples of stormy winter skies. These motifs are isolated, yet connected.

I taught myself to knit almost 40 years ago, and have been designing for over 30 years. The Nordic influence is so very strong in knitting, and the geometric motifs carry over into other media that I work in, such as weaving, pastels, and sewing.

Rosemary Roehl, St. Cloud, MN
Autumn Delights

This is a wall hanging using the Monks Belt technique. I used Norwegian wool yarn on a linen warp.

I began weaving using the Monks Belt tie-up at the beginning of the pandemic. I hadn’t woven anything using this tie-up for some time. NOW I had plenty of time to redress my loom. I was weaving for myself and continued exploring different combinations of color and patterns until I received my first vaccination on January 18th. It was then time to switch to a different technique and tie-up.

I have been weaving since 1979 after my first visit to Norway and am self taught in the Norwegian tradition. I first entered the National Norwegian-American Folk Art Exhibition in 1983, won my first ribbon in 1986, and won my Gold Medal in 1992. I am a retired teacher.

Beth Rotto, Decorah, IA
Four Decades to Bloom Hooked Rug

This is made from both recycled wool clothing (for the flowers and leaves) and new wool (for the background) on a burlap backing.

Back in the 1970s, I decided to try rug hooking. Esther Miller of Decorah encouraged me, but as sometimes happens with a too-big first project, at some point it was set aside. It was rediscovered in 2020, the perfect thing to do in lock-down. Although not your usual Nordic craft, there are many Norwegian Americans who do it, and making rugs from old clothes is a long-standing tradition in many Norwegian homes.

Like Mom & Grandma, I’ve worked with fibers since childhood, mostly knitting but also dabbling in weaving, klostersøm, rug braiding, felting, and dyeing. When laid off in March 2020, and my music gigs were cancelled, I unearthed some unfinished handwork.

Marit Nelson, White Sulphur Springs, WV
handlinger

This is an appliqued art quilt inspired by Telemark rosemaling. The applique is recycled silk tie material. The background is wool suiting fabric.

I was in a fashion design program in New York City when the pandemic began. I was supposed to have my first fashion show in May. I had collected hundreds of old neckties to repurpose into garments. I started making art quilts with the material, since the fashion show was cancelled. This quilt was inspired by Telemark rosemaling. The phrase handlinger speaks to making your own happiness, because it won’t just happen.

I have always been very interested in my Norwegian heritage and have also always been an avid crafter. Naturally, the two interests collided and I started to teach myself rosemaling when I was around 10 years old.

[Editor’s note: The phrase on the quilt translates to: “Luck isn’t something that already exists; it is created by your own actions.”

Shan Rayray, Puyallup, WA
Spring Tablecloth

This tablecloth is worked in hardangersøm or Hardanger embroidery. DMC pearl cotton threads in pink and white on white Hardanger 22-count fabric.

I wanted to make a tablecloth for entertaining my Norwegian friends. I found this design in a German Hardanger embroidery magazine. I took their basic design and made it my own by changing the stitches of the framework, adding in design to the center squares, extending the center design edges, and adding in more detail to the hem.

I’ve been doing hardangersøm since I was a young girl. I learned from my great-great Aunt Barbro when she visited from Stavanger. She spoke no English, only old Norse. She taught me the traditional way to learn: watch and repeat.

Maree Hampton, Minneapolis, MN
Returning to Finish the Fana and Feel Loved

The Norwegian Fana sweater was knit on circular needles with worsted weight yarn with steeked armholes.

With lockdown, stress ensued. Knowing knitting calms the mind, I eagerly took to my needles. As pandemic projects became popular, I turned to finish a sweater. My mom died of a stroke in 2017. While by her side, I reached to knit my Fana project. Tears streamed down and were absorbed in the wooI. Swallowed by profound grief, I put it aside. Lockdown allowed me to finish and feel the love of my mom.

I’ve knit for 30 years. My cousin, Åshild, taught me to knit when I lived on a farm near where my great-grandparents were from. My desire to knit was driven by my love of Norwegian sweaters, hats, mittens, and my Norwegian heritage (mom’s side).

 
Winnie Johnson, Mesa, AZ
Rose Path Rug
 
This “rag rug” is made with 8/4 cotton carpet warp threaded in a rosepath design and cotton sheeting for the weft. I experimented with a variety of treadlings.
     
On recent travels to Scandinavia, I’ve purchased a number of weaving books and photographed a number of rugs on the floor of various museum buildings. When the pandemic hit, I put a long warp on the loom and experimented with rosepath designs. This rug contains a number of designs from photos and books.
 
I’ve been a rug weaver for several decades, but until recent travels in Scandinavia introduced me to different styles, I had not varied my construction methods. I’ve recently added rep weave and rosepath designs to my repertoire.
 
Lisa Torvik, Saint Paul, MN
Langskip for Atle (Long Ships for Atle)
 
This is a transparent hanging of 16/2 line linen warp with inlay of line and tow linen and securing shots of line linen. The technique is similar to tapestry, but with finer yarns. 
 
Late in the winter of 2020, I set up my loom for my piece for the Baldishol exhibition at Norway House in Minneapolis, and started weaving in early March. I needed a test piece and also wanted a gift for a Viking-loving relative in Norway, whom we were to visit. Alas, we could not travel, and his Viking reenactment trip to Iceland in summer was also canceled, so I was inspired to make him some ships.
 
My mother introduced me to weaving, and as a teenager I took a class from Lila Nelson. A trip to Norway in 1970 and working at Valdres Folkemuseum in 1972 piqued my interest. I spent 1974 in weaving school in Norway and brought home my loom.
 
Kathleen Almelien, Washington, IA
2020 Bunad Mask
 
The midband “O” is a 13-strand pickup weave of an åttebladsrose or eight-petal flower symbol for the sun. The “X” is known as St. Andrew’s cross and was believed to deflect evil before it entered the body. The edge patterns are from West Telemark.
 
Our family celebrated a June baptism during 2020. A mask was required of the ten people who could attend the church service. Norwegian tradition requires the wearing of a bunad (national costume) to this celebration. My bandweaving unified all requirements of all ages by making a bunad mask. The XOX motif is repeated to confuse the virus from entering our lives.
 
I am an artist who searches for visual connections and meanings. I married a Norwegian, this fact became a lifelong research into Norway, family, food, history, crafts, and habits. Retired after 44 years in teaching, I have become a band weaver.
 
Roger Buhr, Decorah, IA
     
 
“Nativity Scene with Dog and Cat” and Starring Roses,” are done in hedebosøm or Hedebo needlework.
 

My wife has over 200 nativity scenes in a variety of mediums. I wanted to make one for her collection using hedebo needlework. It was a creative challenge while waiting out COVID-19.

I made 36 rose ornaments for our Christmas tree and decided to try using the pattern in a doily. I also wanted to incorporate black thread which is difficult to see and work with in needlework. It was something I could do evenings while homebound because of the pandemic.

I am a retired Lutheran pastor. I began working with hedebo needlework in 1985, and have done it steadily since I retired in 2000. I enjoy creating new patterns and pieces, so it is a way of expressing my God-given gift of creativity.

Symbolic Motifs in Norwegian Coverlets

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By Laura Demuth

Any time I have the opportunity to view traditional textiles, I am amazed at the care, skill and creativity evident in everyday household items. Even the simplest items were often invested with added beauty and design.  Norwegian coverlets offer an especially rich example of both the weaver’s skill and creativity.  At a time when homes were heated from a central fire causing the walls to be covered with soot, displaying a textile on the wall was an unlikely option. Given the prolonged Norwegian winters, the bed coverlet was a necessary textile. It also afforded the weaver a large space to fill with colors, design, borders and possibly even a name and date.

Traditional Norwegian bed in the collection of Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum

Covering only the top of the bed, the traditional Norwegian coverlet was far smaller than the modern bedspread in that it did not drape down the sides or bottom of the bed. Also, traditional beds were much smaller than modern beds. The average size of a coverlet was four by five feet. If the weaving needed to be wider than the available loom, the coverlet was woven in sections and stitched together after it was removed from the loom.  Coverlets were commonly woven on a linen warp with a wool weft, but occasionally the warp was made with a tightly spun twp-ply wool yarn.  The wool could be dyed with natural plant materials such as birch leaves, club moss, northern bedstraw, woad or a variety of lichens. 

 

Rutevev, or square-weave, is a technique often found in traditional Norwegian coverlets. In Sweden, this technique is known as rolakan. The earliest examples of square-weave covelets in Norway date from the seventeenth century, but the tradition is likely far older. Examples of the technique can be found in Sweden dating from the eighth and ninth centuries. The coverlet design often included borders at the top and bottom of the piece; the borders did not necessarily match. Rows of larger motifs often filled the center of the coverlet, divided from one another by small border designs. Some border designs involved tapestry techniques (discontinuous wefts) while in others a single weft moved continuously from selvage to selvage. The designs were created using four to five colors, often red, black, white and gold. Blue and or green yarn could be added in place of the black. In addition to coverlets, the rutevev technique was used for carriage robes, bench covers, pillows and rugs. (1) 

Rutevev coverlet. Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #lc1626

Like tapestry, rutevev is weft-faced and involves discontinuous wefts, meaning that several wefts are needed to cover the width of the warp. Unlike tapestry in which the weaver may choose to build up one color area at a time, the pattern in rutevev is built up one row after another and woven across the entire width of the textile. Typically, adjacent blocks are joined or interlocked as the weft travels across the warp in one direction only, resulting in a reversible textile. For items such as rugs that require a very durable structure, the weft yarns can be interlocked as they move across the warp in both directions. This double interlocking technique results in a ridge forming between the blocks and produces a textile that is not reversible. 

While a variety of design patterns can be found in traditional Norwegian coverlets, several motifs appear with great regularity: the eight-petaled rose, the cross, diamond, knot, lily and heart. In her excellent book “The Woven Coverlets of Norway,” Katherine Larson notes that all of these motifs stem from the Middle Ages, and can be found in the folk arts from Europe to the Middle East. (2)

 A favorite throughout Scandinavia, the eight-petaled rose is a symbol of renewal.  On coverlets, it  was often placed within the center of an octagon and arranged in rows or columns.

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401087. This single-motif example and the others that follow were woven by Den Norske Vevere, a Norwegian weaving study group in Minneapolis, for a Midwest Weavers conference exhibit. 

Usually another motif such as a diamond or a cross was placed in the center of the rose. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum, Item #2016401057

Pairs of petals were sometimes joined into four, or the eight petals could be woven in alternating colors. Also,the points of the petals could be smoothed into a rosette. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401088

Rutevev coverlet with eight-petaled roses and “lynild” or lightning borders. Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #1968022017

The eight-petaled rose motif can also be found in other areas of the folk art tradition including wood carving, as pictured here. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #lc1191-6

The cross motif is widely found in many cultures and predates the advent of Christianity in Norway. Understood to be a protective symbol, the cross was often woven into pick-up bands used to swaddle infants. On rutevev coverlets, the cross could be the central motif of a coverlet, or it could be placed around or within other motifs. The motif could be expanded by adding a cross bar to each of the arms of a central cross, Additionally, the four arms of the cross could end with a diamond motif. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401061

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #1986033001

The knot motif has been part of the Norwegian textile tradition since the time of the Vikings. Katherine Larson notes that “it is likely that the motif, referred to as valknute in Norwegian, was associated with the powerful Norse god, Odin, or Valfader (father of the battle-slain), who presided over the mythical Valhalla and the Valkyrie. Folk belief held that magical properties inherent in the intricate knotwork designs would provide protection from evil powers”(3)

The knot motif consists of a varying number of hollow squares that intersect on the corners. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401060

The lily motif is commonly associated with the Virgin Mary. It has been found in Norwegian folk art since the Middle Ages, although it may have been used earlier. On coverlets, it is often found centered in a diamond border. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401062

Diamonds could be used as the central motif in a coverlet, or they could be used to frame other motifs. Woodcarvers also used the diamond motif in their work.

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #lc1207-4

In addition to rutevev, the double-weave technique also lent itself to clear, central motifs on coverlets. Katherine Larson suggests that the double-weave technique “probably spread from China, where a type of double-weave was known as early as 200 B.C., to India and Persia and thence into the Mediterranean countries and Russia. Following the trade routes up the rivers of Russia and Eastern Europe, the double-weave technique probably arrived in Scandinavia by at least the eleventh or twelfth century if not earlier” (4). The heart motif often appears on double-woven coverlets as two opposing hearts that meet at their tips. Portions of the eight-petaled rose can often be found framed by the opposing hearts, as seen in this example. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #lc1585

Hearts were often included in other folk art traditions as seen in the example of woodcarving.

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #1995004015-3 

Once you have become familiar with the various motifs typically found in Norwegian coverlets,  it is possible to have a greater appreciation for the color, design and creativity found in these textiles. The language of the motifs communicates the intention of the weaver to offer protection, well-wishing and renewal to all who one day may rest warmly under the coverlet. 

1. Stewart, Janice S. The Folk Arts of Norway. Dover Publications, 1972
2. Larson, Katherine. The Woven Coverlets of Norway. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2001. 
3.  Ibid
4.  Ibid.

Laura Demuth lives on an acreage with a small flock of sheep, a llama and a dye garden. Because her home is only eight miles from Vesterheim, the museum has proven to be a continuous source of inspiration. Rutevev has lately become one of Laura’s favorite weaving techniques.

 

Lisa Hammer’s Remarkable Life and Unusual Rug

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By Robbie LaFleur

Norwegian-born Lisa Hammer passed away in South Dakota in 1998 at the age of 96. Later her family donated a piece she wove to Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum–a straightforward, lovely, long utilitarian rug with simple stripes. But this rug was woven with an unusual material. It is emblematic of an industrious, accomplished, strong-willed woman who faced family displacement, scarcity, and war. 

An 11′ rug woven by Lisa Hammer in Norway before 1943, held aloft by Laurann Gilbertson and Jan Mostrom. Read further to learn about the unusual material used for the rug.

Early years in Norway

Lisa Hammer grew up in a small fishing village on the Klungseth farm northwest of Namsos, Norway, in Nord-Trøndelag. As a young child, her parents became ill and she was sent to the farm of a childless aunt and uncle. She missed her mother terribly, but was never able to return home. Farm work was hard, including hauling firewood from the mountains on her back, and scraping through snow to find greens for the farm animals. At 18 she traveled to Oslo for teacher training, another lonely and difficult time. 

It was difficult to get a teaching job in 1925, but Lisa found a position in three remote villages in Finnmark in the north of Norway. There was a great deal of poverty in the area, which deepened during World War II. She was teaching in Skjøtningberg during the Nazi occupation. Lisa wrote, “There was very little food around. We fed the kids oatmeal soup and cod liver oil in the school and when the weather was bad, the fishermen stole the fish they had sold the day before. The kids were not fed the way they should be and many times it was a lot better to give them a bath and teach them history.”

Many towns in Finnmark were destroyed by the Germans at the end of the war. As the Nazis retreated, they threw grenades in each of the homes in Skjøtningberg, demolishing them in a day.

Skjøtningberg after destruction by the Nazis. Photo Owner: Finnmark Regional Library

The townspeople were told to take a boat south. Lisa wrote, “It was very bad weather that night so we couldn’t enter the boat…We roasted some sheep, fried them on the fire and we drank some beer. We milked some cows, packed silver in the shoes and boots so we could take as much as possible and next morning we went to the boat. It was a fishing boat—we were laying in the bottom of the boat. One man got crazy but we had a basket that was ready to go to the hospital if somebody should be sick…So we tied him up in that basket, it was the only thing to do. And every place we went by that day there was burning and burning and burning.” 

After this harrowing escape to the home of her parents in Nord-Trøndelag (northwest of Namsos), Lisa began teaching nearby. But the school director in Finnmark sent her a telegram, “Welcome to Finnmark. Here is your passport!” After a year of teaching in the small village of Vestre Jakobselv, she was asked to come to Kjøllefjord.  Prudently she asked whether there was a schoolhouse with desks, teaching equipment and books. “No,” the superintendent said, “but there are children.” 

Lisa wrote, “So I went to Kjøllefjord. 125 children met me on the way, and they asked, ‘When will school begin?’ They repeated that often.” She convinced the mayor to furnish eight carpenters, and a classroom was quickly built. Obtaining school materials was a problem right after the war, but they received a large box of school supplies from Canada and regular packages from a woman in New Jersey. Lisa lived in nearby building, and she described the units as pretty and clean. “There was no other entertainment besides what we made ourselves…In later times it has been said that we never had so much fun as in that time when we were living in the housing units and everyone was the same.” School supplies weren’t the only scarce items, as Lisa wrote, “It was my birthday in April, and I can remember that I got a darning needle as a gift from Jennie Olsen. That was a very useful gift at that time.”

Kjøllefjord in 1947. Photo: Andreas Vodahl. Owner: Troms and Finnmark County Library

In a few short years, Lisa was settled and accomplished. She had a house built, became the church organist, was promoted to school principal, and was elected as the first woman representative on the community governing board. But then there was a letter from America…

The South Dakota connection

Around 1951, Lisa began to correspond with a childhood friend, Adolph Hammer, who emigrated to Huron, South Dakota. He was a widower with 12 children. He asked whether she had ever considered coming to America. She had, and in the summer of 1952 she traveled almost 4000 miles to visit her friend. When she returned to finish her teaching contract in Kjøllefjord, she was married. 

A number of rugs that Lisa Hammer wove accompanied her when she returned for her new life chapter in the middle of America. The rug donated to Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum was the one with the most unusual weft material–not fabric strips, as in most rag rugs, but herring nets from her fisherman brother, Ebbe Klungseth, who fished along a fjord in Trøndelag.  Small fish floated through the nets that were later twisted and woven into the rug! Moss alongside a Norwegian fjord was collected and cooked to dye the colored wool stripes. Lisa’s herring-net rug was thrifty and creative.

Once in her new South Dakota home, Lisa must have missed weaving. She ordered a loom from Norway, but it remained unassembled in a box until she sold it in the 1980s. She was likely too busy with her new husband and twelve children. Only a couple of the children were still at home, but Lisa also grew large flower and vegetable gardens, worked full time as the head housekeeper at a local inn, and made and sold a LOT of lefse.

Once she learned English, she had many speaking engagements around the region. At venues like the Sons of Norway and a local international group, Lisa was an ambassador of Norwegian culture and food. The local newspaper published her Norwegian recipes and articles about her textile work. 

While she was not a weaver in America, her hands were never idle. She made many wall hangings in Norwegian klostersøm technique and mastered Hardangersøm embroidery.

She embroidered a large tablecloth in the Farmers Rose pattern to match her dinnerware, crocheted dozens of afghans, and crocheted lace doilies. Textiles were an important part of her lectures about Norwegian culture. Here she demonstrates spinning on a wheel. 

Lisa Hammer stood up to many challenges during her long, rich life. She loved her adopted country and told her granddaughter, “the last letters in American are ‘I can.'” After she died, the family found her woven rugs from Norway in a closet, meaningful mementos that she saved for half her life. Lisa’s herring-net rug is an object that holds history. It also typifies a trait common to so many Norwegian-Americans whose belongings enrich Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum–while loving their adopted country, the immigrants remember and celebrate the country and culture of their youth. 

Authors note: Thank you to Karen Seeman (Lisa’s step-granddaughter) and Dee Gunderson (Lisa’s stepdaughter) for information on Lisa Hammer’s textile activities. 

Nordic Notes, May 2021

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Video

Hjemmet magazine made a short film about the tablet weaving of Torkjell Sletta. It is in Norwegian, and subtitled in Norwegian, but fans of tablet weaving will love it no matter what. Torfjell Sletta has been making bands since 1979. He talks about how it’s evident he likes color, it’s something he loves. The woman he is instructing comments, “It looks like you are crazy about color.” He says he likes sharp colors and strong contrast.

Laura Demuth delivered a marvelous lecture on Norwegian coverlets as part of an introduction to weaving video produced by the Sustaining Scandinavian Folk Arts in the Upper Midwest project at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. It’s now available via YouTube, here. Laura starts  with an introduction of weaving. The section on Norwegian coverlets begins at the forty-minute mark, when you see a slide of marvelous sheep with curly horns. 

The 2021 International Fiber Festival spotlighted Norway on Day 3. It includes links to general Norwegian travel videos and two cultural videos. The following two videos were part of the online event. 

Nordlandsbunad from Bente Waag Petersen. Bente is a dyer with Arctic Krafts. She created a short video describing the various components of her national costume, from the embroidery, jewelry, and the cotton shawl (pictured here)  and the special way it is tied. 

 

 

 

Eline Oftedal Shares Her Vintage Embroidered Sweater Trimmings.
In this eight-minute video, the Norwegian sweater designer displays some of her collection of vintage Norwegian sweaters.  She has a theory about why the embroidered wool edges were added to sweaters. In earlier times, beautiful imported fabrics were very costly. Peasants had wool, and it was used  for special clothing. Leftover bits were embroidered and used also on sweaters. The black and white yarn used in the sweaters was inexpensive. She added, “If you added the beautiful cuffs here and there, it would sort of lift the appearance of this sweater, quite a bit, actually… and also made it last a bit longer.”

Exhibition Catalog

In the summer of 2020, Norway House in Minneapolis was one of the very first galleries or museums to arrange for safe and socially-distanced gallery visits. Even so, perhaps you were far away and missed the great show, “The Baldishol: A Medieval Norwegian Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles.” In step with the new virtual reality of the pandemic world, there were lots of online opportunities to learn about the exhibit, too: a YouTube opening celebration, a virtual tour of all the works, and a web page leading to additional articles about the artists and the inspirational Baldishol Tapestry. To finish this year-long celebration of the Baldishol Tapestry, please enjoy our last exhibition feature–a beautifully illustrated catalog. You can read (or print) the pdf version, or  purchase one in print. 

Interview

An interview with fiber artist Nancy Ellison from Zumbrota, Minnesota, is included in an online exhibition of traditional crafts practiced by Nordic Americans in the Upper Midwest region of the U.S. “Traveling Traditions: Nordic Folk Arts in the Upper Midwest” is sponsored by a program at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, “Sustaining Scandinavian Folk Arts in the Upper Midwest.” Nancy uses yarn made from her own flock of sheep in her weavings inspired by traditional Norwegian techniques and designs. 

Old Textiles Live On in Many Ways; Musings by Textile Historian Marit Wang and her Daughter Ingebjørg Monsen

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By Robbie LaFleur 

While assembling the issue of the Norwegian Textile Letter on Vestfold technique (February 2021), I was struck by the introductory essay by Marit Wang in the book of patterns published in 1992, Coverlets and Ryas in Vestfold: Pattern Book [Tepper og Ryer i Vestfold: Mønsterhefte] (1). She mentioned current scholarship on the weaving technique and the older historical coverlets, but also brought up broader questions about the preservation and use of traditional weavings. Her words have relevance to all sorts of traditional folk art in our contemporary world. 

How will old textiles speak to you? Will you copy them? Use them as inspiration? Marit Wang gives her readers wide discretion, at one point declaring, “…there is nothing “correct” in folk art.” 

Ryas and Other Coverlets in Vestfold
An introductory essay by Marit Wang,
translated by Katherine Larson

An object can be used for many things.  Take a stone, for example: we can hit each other in the head with it, we can use it as a weight for fishing or for weaving, as part of a stone fence or for decoration.

Ryas and other coverlets in Vestfold can also be used in several ways. If we own such a textile, we can in our naiveté hang it on the wall, or – as they did in times past – place it on the bed.  Eventually we can let the cat lie on it, and we ourselves might use it to wipe our feet, etc.  One of the finest coverlets I know of was found covering a car tire, protecting it from the summer sun.  One might also solve the problem by sensibly donating the textile to a museum…  

Some sit themselves down to think and write about tekstiler fra Vestfold [textiles from Vestfold]. In just the past few years at least three written accounts have appeared: we have the catalog from the anniversary exhibition Coverlets in Vestfold [Tepper I Vestfold, 1989], we have Karin Blomqvist’s excellent and thought-provoking article, “Vestfold Memories: Reflections on Twelve Bedcovers in Vestfold Technique” [“Vestfoldminne 1990: Reflektioner kring tolv täcken i vestfoldsmett”], and now the present Pattern Booklet [Mønsterhefte] by Laila Thorrud.

Like the stone described earlier, one might say that these written representations can tell us just as much about the creators as about the Vestfold textiles.  Concerning alternate approaches, for example Karin Blomqvist’s analytical-theoretical and Laila Thorrud’s practical-analytic, one is no better than the other, they are simply different.

As with objects, the written representations can be used in different ways. That the pattern booklet will preserve the individual textiles is immediately obvious, and with the great interest in Vestfold coverlets, this is necessary. Personally I would say it is peculiar that the ryas of Vestfold have not engendered a similar palpable excitement – in Vestfold.  But it is no doubt coming. They have been published (Helen Engelstad’s Past Art in Rural Norway, Norwegian Ryas [Fortid’s Kunst i Norges Bygder, Norske ryer], 1942). But when one considers the interest that weavers have shown, this can in no way be compared with the Finnish textile artists’ interest in their own ryas.  And yet these are the closest relatives of the Vestfold ryas.

One could also use this pattern booklet in the most creative of ways. If one wished to make a textile that is most consistent with – but consistent with what? Like the old textile when it was new? In the lighting in which it was then seen? Finding equivalent wool and yarn is impossible.

Or do you want to “copy” the textile as it appears today? Or create something completely different, with color combinations you have arrived at yourself?

One way can be just as good as the other, you will find that there is nothing “correct” in folk art. There are mostly misunderstandings – and creative ability to varying degrees.

Most often it is true that one must learn to crawl before one can walk. Birds? Few of us are winged creatures.

I should be the last to advise anyone. But it will be interesting to see how the pattern booklet is used.

Marit Wang

Ingebjørg Monsen from Bergen, who teaches weaving and bunad sewing, is Marit Wang’s daughter. She was interested to read this essay about which she’d forgotten. “She was always trying to let the artifacts speak for themselves,” Ingebjørg commented about her mother. Marit Wang frequently mentioned the Baldishol Tapestry and the Överhogdal tapestries as examples of images that were recycled over and over. Woven coverlets had long lives and many uses, often ending up as horse coverings. Horses were valuable assets on the farm! 

In her essay, Marit Wang mentions that preservation can be achieved by sensibly donating the textile to a museum. Ingebjørg had additional thoughts:

It is also important to remember that putting an artifact into a museum always is dependent on the qualifications (and even sometimes the sex!?) of the curator(s) and the directors of the museum ;-). As long as there are relevant and knowledgeable persons in the family, the artifacts are sometimes better kept at home. 

I also often experience people bringing old heirlooms/artifacts to my classes, kept in the same way as 50 and 100 years ago, which seems to be the best possible way to keep them. ;-).

Brit Anni and her granddaughter

Finally, Ingebjørg is heartened by the current trend of using parts of old or inherited bunads (national costumes) when sewing new ones. One of her students, Brit Anni, used her own skills to assemble a new bunad. The skirt, apron and shirt were made by Brit Anni’s great-aunt in 1899. The breastplate is from the old bunad, but the bodice was made in the 1950s and used by Brit Anni’s mother. The belt was Brit Anni’s. The owner of this new/old and very meaningful bunad is Brit Anni’s granddaughter. 

 

A bunad generations in the making…

The best folk art lives on, through preserved artifacts, reproductions, new pieces inspired by tradition, and even re-used bits from old folk art. 

1 Thorrud, Laila. Tepper og Ryer i Vestfold: Mønsterhefte (Coverlets and Ryas in Vestfold: Pattern Book). Tønsberg, Norway: Vestfold Historielag, 1992. In Norwegian. Limited copies will be available from the Vesterheim Norwegian- American Museum Store. Email for information. 

 

“Well, I Wondered When I Saw You, What All These New Clothes Meant”: Interpreting the Dress of Norwegian-American Immigrants

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By Carol Colburn

Editor’s Note: Carol Colburn’s analysis of Norwegian-American immigrant dress was published in 1994 in Material Culture and People’s Art Among the Norwegians in America, edited by Marion Nelson. It led the author to other research projects over the years. Here, she shares new insights in a special introduction for Norwegian Textile Letter readers. Read the full chapter here. 

As a costume designer and a clothing historian, I am fascinated by what clothing can say about an individual. The world of a play is defined by the playwright, and within that world, the language of costume helps to define the character, adding nuance to the interaction of dialogue and plot. A different challenge faces the clothing historian, when the world you are studying is filtered by history and remembered only in fragments. Photographs can provide clues to fill in the gaps. 

In my research for this chapter, I found it helpful to study clothing through family photo albums showing multiple generations. These reveal the progression of individual clothing choices in a context and over time.

As my mentors, Marion and Lila Nelson were inspiring and instrumental in getting this study of Norwegian-American clothing started. Their knowledge of the Vesterheim Museum collections and the Norwegian-American community in the Decorah, Iowa, area provided a basis for my research. I had interned at Vesterheim in the 1970s while I was an Art History/Museology graduate student at the University of Minnesota. By the late 1980s, Marion’s plans for Material Culture and People’s Art Among the Norwegians in America had come together. The edited volume was to include chapters on the material culture of Norwegian-American architecture and household artifacts. Marion suggested I undertake a similar study of Norwegian-American immigrant dress.

I visited families in Decorah and in the surrounding rural areas, looking at troves of family photographs. I was attentive to immigrants’ transition to fashionable dress, as well as retention of Norwegian habits of dress after immigration to the American Midwest. Thinking of clothing as a language helped my discussions with those families. Many interviewees were close to their relatives who were first generation immigrants and shared stories of the people depicted. A material culture research approach calls for using written evidence to help draw conclusions from objects (in this case photographs). Written passages directly quoted from the immigrant experience in letters and literature were also used as primary source material to help interpret what I was seeing in the family photographs. The title of my chapter is drawn from one of those letters. 

After this book was published, new insights came to me as I continued research in the U.S. and Norway. Updating my research and conclusions about the clothing patterns I identified in this chapter became an ongoing project. It also led me to look at photographs in my own family’s albums with new eyes. Family photographs are not always as well composed or preserved as those in museum collections. Identification can be challenging and sometimes the names are lost. We often focus on facial features and hair and body types, looking for clues for observable connections between generations but clothing and accessories can also provide hints of daily life, even if studio portraits are not made in a realistic context. The clothing and props in these family photographs might tell us about important occasions, occupations, interests, and accomplishments. For instance, we can recognize a c.1900 wedding portrait because of the relationship depicted and accessories included, even if a white dress was not worn. In the same years, a formal white dress together with a rolled-up diploma points instead to a graduation. We try to ‘interpret’ clothing that does not always translate to modern eyes. Dating photographs by comparing family photographs to fashion is complicated by the length of time some individuals continued to wear their clothing. New clothing might also have been made in a favorite older style. Finding any collaborating family stories or written evidence is very helpful.

Joan Severa’s book Dressed for the Photographer: Ordinary Americans and Fashion, 1840 – 1900 was published in 1995 and provides a useful cross-reference for looking at family photographs of that era. She presents a chronological scope of representative portraits from across America, including individuals from a broad range of backgrounds. Among those represented are immigrants, formerly enslaved and indigenous people. Each portrait includes a detailed clothing description. Her book can be seen as a window into the nineteenth century American family album with a focus on individuals rather than on fashion. She also includes some Norwegian-American family photographs from the Wisconsin Historical Society collections. 

Research methods using photographs have evolved since the 1990s. One thing made clear by reading my chapter and Joan Severa’s book is that as researchers we were viewing actual photographic prints as we interpreted the clothing details contained in them, instead of viewing second or third generation reproductions (reprints, photocopies, or digital copies). Actual photographs provide a wide range of black, white and grey values resulting in remarkable clarity of detail. In most cases, this made it possible to analyze and describe details such as garment cut, fabric, and accessories in individual portraits or groups. Today in the digital world, researchers are lucky if they have access to high-resolution digital copies where it is possible to zoom in to discern details. Problems with clarity of clothing details can happen with digital reproductions when lower resolution is used for internet distribution.

Anonymous girl c.1900 from the author’s family collection (Illustration 23 in the pdf reprint). Looking at the portrait in this high resolution digital reproduction instead of the reprint published in the original book, we can see fine detailing of her silver lekkjeknapp. She has used this traditional decorated double button as a brooch on her very fashionable bodice, sending a message about her family heritage from Valdres, Norway.

The author poses next to a rack of busseruller, traditional Norwegian work shirts.

This study has become a springboard for a number of subsequent research projects concerning immigrant clothing history, and also has been important in shaping my current work as I make clothing reproductions for museum collections and teach heritage garment-making workshops. A custom sewing class becomes a cultural history class, as my students and I sew together. Teaching patterning and sewing techniques for custom garments has become another way for me to share this fascinating material culture study.

 See “The Busserull (Norwegian Work Shirt) Tradition” and “The Busserull Tradition Continues” in Norwegian Textile Letter Volume 22, Number 1, March 2016.

Carol Colburn’s background in Theater, Art History/Museology, and Human Ecology/Textiles has led her to study textile and clothing history from many perspectives. Her interest in Norwegian-American clothing has led to projects and publications inspired by the collections at Vesterheim Museum, including the article reproduced here by the Norwegian Textile Letter. Now living in Duluth, Minnesota she continues to delve into clothing history, with a focus on Scandinavian handwoven garment traditions. She teaches heritage sewing workshops at North House Folk School in Grand Marais, Minnesota and John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina. 
Read more by Carol Colburn in the Norwegian Textile Letter: Migration of a Tradition: Norwegian Folk Dress in America (May 2020), and Taking a Play to Norway: The Costume Designer’s Story (February 2018).