By Anne Grete Sandstad

Editors note: This article was originally published in By og Bygd, #40, 2007. By og Bygd, the yearbook of the Norsk Folkemuseum, has published articles on cultural history and museum studies since 1943.

Why rag rugs?

By og Bygd, #40, 2007

I have many good memories associated with my grandmother’s old rag rugs. She was the one who taught me to weave, and who wove the first rugs I came to love. The tradition skipped a generation as Mother did not weave, and it was I who inherited the loom. Grandma’s loom was small and easy to use, and my first warp was not quite right because it was run between two door handles in the basement. Later there was training in the subject, instruction and finally major study at the university.

It was long after Grandma was gone that I sat in a cabin and read a journal where Curator Anne Kjellberg at Oslo’s Museum of Art and Design declared: “The rag rug is among the un-researched areas in everyday cultural history. In fact, someone should be encouraged to research the subject.” And just like that, several threads in my life came together in the choice of a major thesis.

There are good indications that rag rugs have been used throughout Norway for almost 150 years, and yet ten years ago there was no systematic documentation of these textiles, not in literature, in museums or in other relevant contexts. Rag rugs were thus a small, little noticed part of our textile tradition, despite the prodigious production that demonstrates the care, knowledge and creativity underlying these textiles. The goal of this registration project was the desire to contribute to the preservation and documentation of this part of Norwegian women’s textile cultural tradition. This is an element of everyday culture where it seems there has been no correlation between the meaning the textiles had for most people and the attention, or lack thereof, it has received in terms of written or visual documentation.

Stairway rug.  Photo: Anne Grete Sandstad.

The aesthetic dimension in the study of objects

A further desired outcome was to elevate respect for everyday culture by revealing these textiles as aesthetic objects and by clarifying the experience and competence the weavers invested in their work, all evident in pattern composition, color choice and use of materials. The need for a working format, formalized into a system of categories based on sound and universal subject-matter terminology, was important. Therefore, another goal of the thesis work became clear during the process: to arrive at an understanding of a common basis for terminology in this subject area.

When one’s goal is an attempt to deepen the understanding of a culture, it is appropriate to shine a light on what characterizes the objects in that tradition. It is important to find common distinctive traits, and determine if it is possible to analyze the textiles from a common point of view. At the same time, it is equally important to show variations within the uniformity, which becomes significant for classification. The work entailed categorizing rag rugs so that the selected terminology would provide unambiguous communication among people in the field.  

By beginning with rugs that had characteristic pattern compositions and that also had several examples associated with each location, it was possible to analyze and categorize more systematically. Provenance and technique would not be relevant criteria in this regard, however examining and categorizing the rugs with primary weight given to the aesthetic dimension could provide insight. The aesthetic dimension expresses the visual impression of the object, an expression that can encompass form, color and composition. Form also would not be relevant in this connection since all the rugs have nearly the same form. Color as a basis for categorizing would be difficult and lengthy and would be taken care of by description. Composition, as the fundamental and decisive element for all artistic endeavors, stands out as the basis for categorizing this textile group. Visual first impressions of the rugs indicate a pattern composition that essentially consists of stripes. This proved to be a good metric, independent of weaving technique, for documentation of rugs as objects of study with an emphasis on the aesthetic dimension. This perspective would also be relevant in arriving at a common terminology for all such work by building a national textile nomenclature.

This was the beginning of an incredibly enjoyable and interesting registration project that has shown me many beautiful woven textiles and introduced me to many pleasant and knowledgeable people.

After a while it became obvious that this extensive group of textiles was an enormous subject. In order to go into more detail on local traditions and how the rugs were woven in different districts, I needed to limit the registration project to defined areas. The choice then fell to Røros in the mountains and Fosen by the fjord and out towards the coast, two places in Sør-Trøndelag that from the start I had a connection with through vacations and free time. Choosing these two areas allowed a focus on the differences to be found in mountain and coastal cultural contexts. It became obvious that there were large differences in rug weaving in these areas, more so than the weavers themselves would have thought. They had, of course, only woven their rugs as was customary in their area. [1]

Surveying local rag rug weaving traditions when studying objects in an aesthetic dimension also gives insight into how cognizant the weavers were in terms of pattern composition and the utilization of available resources. In this article, the last element will be the most significant.

Looking back on the rug loom

Traditions have often accompanied a loom. Many weavers inherited their loom, which was often made by one of the men in the family. The stories associated with several of the looms indicate that rugs have been woven for many generations back through time. This time perspective is supported in the literature. In Eilert Sundt’s book, Om renlighetsstellet i Norge [On Cleanliness in Norway], first published in 1869, one finds mention of rag rugs. Eilert Sundt traveled around Norway studying folk culture, and showed an interest in and understanding for the contributions of women’s work that was quite unusual for that time. In the book, painted floors are described as a significant step forward in household customs. Further we can read:

The second advance in household customs that I would point out is that of decorating with rugs in the living room. Just as there are certain areas where the painting of floors is fashionable, so one also sees that this latest décor has spread more and more in other places, especially in the outermost coastal areas near Christansand. In the beginning, a drying rag was laid inside the door on Saturday evenings for wiping one’s feet when the floor was newly scrubbed and still wet; then people went further and laid down a pair of old bedcovers or a piece of sack cloth from the door to the dining table and let that stay  through Sunday; little by little people became more accustomed to this and gained greater comfort through it as well, and then people let the rugs lay for the entire week, covering larger and larger areas of the floor, weaving special rugs for this use, mostly the so-called rag rugs, nicely woven with alternating dark and light stripes. In fact, in some cases the number of rag rugs is so extensive that people have two sets, thinner summer and thicker and warmer winter rugs. [2]

When Eilert Sundt writes in such elaborate detail about the use of rag rugs on the floors as early as 1869, we should assume that this tradition was already in existence for some time. The custom must have had time to develop from a little mat next to the entry to a double set of rag rugs for use in different times of the year. Perhaps in Norway we have a rug tradition that stretches back to the first half of the 1800s, a tradition that, according to Eilert Sundt, developed as a need to care for our floors. 

Loom from Røros, with painted date of 1850. Photo: Anne Grete Sandstad.

From the history of rag rugs

Covering the floors with rugs is a custom that comes from the Orient, where the use of rugs stretches back before the time of Christ. Rugs were used as a seating surface in Bedouin tents, for sitting on while eating or as a prayer rug. [3]

The rug’s status in everyday culture in the Nordic countries is associated with a rise in the standard of living over the 19th century. When the rag rug was first used, as noted by Eilert Sundt, it was only laid out over the weekend. It was considered wasteful to have such a fine rug receive wear from everyday use. Over time, as houses had more rooms for people to use, some rugs remained in use in less frequented rooms even on weekdays. This could be the bedroom or the parlor. But with time, older worn rugs could be used in the kitchen and in the hallway. In this way, people eventually had rugs in all the rooms of the house.

If one had the means, rugs were laid together closely so they nearly covered the floor. In this way they insolated better against drafts. Statements from weavers confirm this: rugs should be laid 5 cm over each other to block drafts through the floorboards. Some laid several rugs on top of each other and also sacks on top of that. It was also related that one person around the turn of the previous century put straw and newspaper under the rugs to reduce drafts. When rugs lay edge to edge so they overlapped each other like roofing, it was easier to sweep them off. But the most common practice was to lay them side by side with a hand’s breadth of space between.

In the summer rugs were not laid as closely to one another. Sometimes one had darker and wider rugs for winter and lighter and narrower rugs for summer. If one had new clean rugs, sometimes one would lay the hallway rugs on top of these. A few sources even said that some walked around the finest rugs. It could also be the case that one was instructed to preferably walk on the dark areas of the rug in order to preserve the lighter areas for as long as possible.

One weaver related that earlier there were three rugs in front of the bedroom door. Each weekend a fourth rug was laid over these, to be taken away on Monday. Another custom was to turn the rugs over for the weekends, giving the rugs a cleaner “weekend side.” Others related that it was typical to have weekend rugs. The custom of putting out newly woven and newly washed rugs for Christmas is in fact still well known to many.

Cork or linoleum mats began to be used in the beginning of the 1900s, with small mats of this type being placed under the dining table as a decoration. Cotton rugs were laid in a rectangle around the table and the linoleum mat. A weaver at Gande in Fosen was able to show a room in her home with just this arrangement. The linoleum material was called balatum. Often the rugs were woven such that both in color and composition they complemented the balatum. When later people had the means to cover an entire floor with linoleum, the cotton rugs were laid where people walked the most in order to preserve this costly purchased floor covering.

Balatum [linoleum] and home-woven rugs.  Photo: Anne Grete Sandstad.

By around 1950–1960 a war-weary attitude towards resources had developed. There was no longer the same high regard for taking care of things, money culture prevailed, and the term “home-made” had a lower status in many places. Many switched out cotton rugs for easier-to-maintain rugs made with plastic “rags.” Technically and pattern-wise, plastic rugs resembled those of cotton, but the replacement rugs were never quite the same. Many ceased to weave for themselves when they could purchase things instead. The 1960s was the decade for synthetic materials, when wall-to-wall carpets and imitation Persian rugs became popular. With the environmental movement of the 1970s, characterized by pine-wood interiors and an interest in traditional values, rag rugs attained new status. Handwoven rugs, as opposed those that were imported and mass-produced in factories, became an expression of quality and good taste for many.

The rag rug’s status and value has thus varied through time depending on how accessible they have been. To begin with they were limited to those who had plenty of materials, or at least enough to use for weaving, and they became a status symbol in addition to their practical value. Over time they became more accessible and commonplace, and perhaps somewhat devalued.  When it became inexpensive and easy to get factory produced imported rag rugs, it seems that the good old time-honored handwoven rugs were elevated in value again. Many are the questions asked today about where one can get nice, handwoven rugs.

Rag rugs – an important factor in textile reuse 

“Imagine that you could make something so nice out of nothing –  it should have been thrown away, you know.” [4]

It is said that weaving rag rugs is the joy of creating something from nothing, and by nothing we mean textiles: rags and other textile waste, 110 thousand tons of which was thrown away just in Norway in 2005. [5]

Ten years earlier, in 1995, 14 thousand tons of textiles were thrown away. From this figure, Norges Naturvernforbund [Friends of the Earth Norway] has estimated that Norway threw out enough textiles to weave 570 Norwegian miles [5,700 km] of rugs that year. [6] That would equal the distance from Trondheim to Olso ten times over, and ten rugs side by side from Trondheim to Olso would be a goodly length. One can just imagine how many meters of rugs that would have become by 2005!  This should serve as an excellent example indicating how rag rug weaving has a significant environmental aspect. The tradition that encompasses this part of women’s textile heritage in Norway is entirely based on the principle of reusing materials.

The environmental aspect of rag rug weaving is clearly shown in the story of a rug weaver from Trøndelag. She lives on a little farm that has a storehouse at the edge of the farmyard. In spring the sunshine fell so nicely on the storehouse, and she recalled sitting on the storehouse steps to cut rags from the textile scraps she had set aside during the winter. This weaver had never thrown away a single rag or textile scrap in her life. All these scraps were woven into the three rugs, each of 40 meters, that she had made since she came to the farm in 1952. This is an attitude towards resources that would help to minimize our trash piles, and that still exists.

Many things suggest that rugs have been in use throughout the country for at least 150 years, and many of us have an emotional attachment to our home-woven rag rugs. The rugs lie there like an open family album, and for many they represent the web of life. It’s not uncommon for a faraway look come over weavers as they look down on their rugs and recognize certain color stripes, bits of fabric that represent an especially memorable dress or event. And the rags, or remembrances, were inserted in the loom with great care and aesthetic awareness, indicating that the weft material truly had a high value.

Aesthetics in the handcraft tradition

At the same time, rag rug weaving represents an important handcraft tradition. One can be impressed with the time and energy and creativity that many weavers have invested in this field for many years, but despite that, one hears the phrase, “It’s just a rug….”

But to weave a rag rug with a consistent composition of stripes throughout its length was not necessarily an easy task. The weavers always had to begin with the rag colors they had on hand, and the available materials were never the same. One needed to create something new with each rug, be open to new impulses and consider the selection every single time. One always needed to weave something new and different: to copy a home-woven rag rug is nearly impossible. Thus rag rug weaving is a field where one could be, and perhaps also had to be, creative and imaginative. Here there was no talk of following prescribed directions, not at all. Thus, it was especially rag rug weaving that became a textile field where the weavers got to use their creativity and aesthetic sense. At the same time, this free choice resulted in rugs with considerable individual variation.

But even if the rag materials were never the same for two weavers, the registration work indicates that local traditions in rag rug weaving did exist to a surprising degree. By comparing the manner in which rugs were woven in several districts, it is clear that rugs woven in the same area have several characteristics in common. It was not the result of coincidence when color arrangements in the stripe fields were composed. The planning and allocation of resources from the rag pile that is evident in several of the older rugs shows us the extent of knowledge and insight the weavers relied on when considering how to use their rags in an artistic manner. 

To have a sufficient amount of one weft material such that the ground fields would be the same for a rug’s entire length, and if possible for the length of several rugs, could be a problem. Many weavers related that there was perhaps just one time in their lives when they experienced this. Thus it could be a momentous decision for a household when the mother and daughter together decided that they should take the old and worn home-woven wool blankets or bolster covers to be used as the ground field in new living room rugs.

Living room rugs in Proviantgården, Røros.  Photo: Anne Grete Sandstad.

The term mat vs. rag rug

Both the terms mat [matte] and rag rug [fillerye] are used in Norway to describe “handwoven long narrow floor rugs where the weft consists of textile scraps cut into long strips.” This is the definition one finds under rag rug in the encyclopedia. [7]

In Trøndelag, the term mat is most common and corresponds with the Swedish term trasmattor. Trasor is the Swedish word for rags, so a direct translation would be rag mats. In older texts one can see that it is just this word, rag mats [fillematter], that is used for this type of textile. [8]

Anna Grostøl can be an important source of reference for textile history context. During the years from 1920 to 1940 she traveled throughout the country, collecting and investigating cultural history. In interviews documented in her papers there are mentions of exactly that term, rag mats. In clippings from the weekly magazine Urd in the 1950s there is also discussion of rag mats. There is little to be found in Norwegian written sources about the subject, but in Eli Mæhles booklet, Vev matter selv [Weave mats yourself] from 1936, the term rag mat occurs throughout, with descriptions like “home-woven mats” and “warm, cozy mats on the floor.”

Today the term rag rug may be more widespread in eastern Norway, where the word mat describes the mat that lies in front of the entryway door. In southern Norway and along the coast up towards Bergen the term rag rug is also most common. The term mat is used quite consistently in northern Norway and down the coast of Møre towards western Norway.

The stripes in rag rug weaving – ground field and stripe field

Pattern composition in the rugs consists mainly of stripes – stripes in many variations. Stripes are the essence of rag rugs, the logical pattern formation when weaving with two thread systems that are bound together in a simple technique. For the registration work it became necessary to name the different stripe systems in a rag rug. In conversations with weavers it became clear that this was also a part of daily speech. Ground field [bunnfelt] is a term that indicates the widest stripe areas, while stripe field [stripefelt] usually indicates the striped areas that often consist of a concentration of many narrower stripes.

A wealth of local Trøndelag expressions confirms the use of this terminology. It can be “ground, ground color, or ground field” [bot’n, bottenfarge, bottenfelt], to give some examples for ground field. Also ground stripes [botn’ rei’nner] is much used. In the same way, “pattern ends, color ends, color stripes and light stripes” [mønsterender, fargerender, fargerai’nna, letta’rei’nner], where light is a color, equate to the term stripe field used here. One of the weavers also used the term “large-striping” [stor-reinning] for the ground field.

Rug finds in Fosen: Fishing net rugs

Fishing net rug at Fosen

Rugs woven from fishing nets are found in Fosen. It is said that they were woven before and during the last war.

The coastal culture’s ingenuity and scarce resources are reflected in rag rug weaving. Conversations with several people from different districts indicate that such rugs were commonly in use at one time. Some people thought they could remember fishing net rugs from before 1930, which corresponds with the writings of Eilert Sundt.

To prepare the weft material for this type of weaving was not considered “women’s work.” The material couldn’t be clipped apart, it had to be chopped with an axe. One weaver related that it was Uncle Anders who was the best at chopping such material on the farm. She remembered well when he brought the smallest chopping block in and placed it on the kitchen floor in the fall. He was the one who chopped the nets so that the resulting weft material would be completely straight.

To chop fishing nets in the right manner between the knots was important. One began by knotting the net at one end, generally attaching that to the chopping block. Then the rest of the section was arranged so the net was even and straight. A new knot was tied a little further on in such a way that one could chop right up to it without having the threads loosen. Some tied new knots each time they chopped, while others tied knots along the whole length of the net at one time.

The surviving rugs indicate that this was a resource utilized throughout the coastal milieu. Unrelated to each other, a practice that is both practical and logical developed in several places at the same time. 

It is easy to see the relationship between the different fishing net rugs even if there are great distances between where the rugs are found today. When artificial fibers became common for fishing nets, there were those who perhaps thought that things were swept away a bit too quickly in many boathouses. Fishing nets were most often burned, and over time the weavers had a larger selection of materials from which to choose.

In the rug that is draped on a boat [see photo], the ground fields were woven from herring nets tanned with bark, and from codfish nets impregnated with copper sulfate. Different types of net material and different treatments for strengthening the nets gave different colors, variations that were utilized in pattern composition. 

The darkest ground fields were made with tanned herring nets made of cotton. The lightest ground fields were from codfish nets; it is said that these were almost always made of hemp and impregnated with copper sulfate, giving a somewhat blue, almost greenish color after processing. It was especially this material that became quickly worn in the rugs. Copper sulfate damages the fibers when it isn’t in water; in water the fibers are hardened and the nets become stronger. A problem with fishing net rugs could therefore be that after a few years of wear they became so threadbare that sand and dirt easily passed through them.

The rug ends were edged with fabric. Many of the rugs woven in coastal districts have warp threads of the same yarn as that used for making fishing nets. This is a thinner yarn, with a weight of 12/4, as opposed to the traditional yarn for rug warp that has a weight of 12/6. The fringes could therefore become worn, and it was common to repair worn fringes by sewing a piece of cloth over the ends of the rug.

Fishing net colors dominate the composition of this rug. As one can see, the characteristic composition has rather large ground fields. Light and dark ground fields are regularly alternated for the entire length of the weaving. This is a typical and easy manner of organizing the weft input, but research indicates that it was especially consistent in this district. The stripe fields were woven of wool and cotton, and hemp was also used in narrow stripes. This latter material could come from flour sacks or animal feed sacks. Several of the weavers remembered with horror all the dust and dirt that accompanied the work involved in unraveling these sacks to make long weft threads, but everything should be used. The stripe fields were simple but symmetrical for the most part in this region, and the same composition and color combination was repeated throughout the entire rug.

Kitchen rugs at Grande

Kitchen rugs at Grande

In many ways it appears that this rug, woven in 1965, can be considered typical for rug weaving in this district at that time. Here again the pattern composition consists of wide ground fields in three different colors that are systematically repeated for the entire length of the weaving. The colors in the ground fields have different shades, such that a certain rhythm develops in the repetition of a light, a medium and a darker ground field. Here the stripe fields are also symmetrical and woven exactly alike for the entire length of the weaving, both in terms of color and composition.

The weavers related that it was common to weave enough length to be able to cut a one-meter long piece of rug off the loom for the entryway door. This rug then had the same colors and stripe composition as the longer one. It became dirty more quickly, but was easier to wash, and therefore it typically became more faded and worn. The rug was often edged with fabric where it became most worn, and these edgings gave such rugs an extra decoration.

In this district, if the rugs were woven with four different shades in the ground field, they were arranged one after the other in a systematic order. The problem with this composition, which builds from wide one-color ground fields, was to have enough weft material for such large fields. One way to solve this problem was to weave the ground fields such that every other weft was from two similar shades of the same color. In addition to the practical aspect, this alternating of colors contributed an aesthetic effect. At the same time, this was also an expedient method for extending the ground fields: one got long homogenous ground fields for the entire length of the weaving from a varied selection of material. This again shows the careful planning that went into resource utilization.

Rug finds in Røros: Summer rugs at Svenslien

Summer rugs at Svenslien

In several places it was traditional to lay out lighter and narrower rugs in the summer and darker, wider rugs in the winter. At Svenslien in Røros many rugs were woven with light ground fields for just this purpose. The rugs were woven on a venerable old loom that sits in its own newly restored room in the earlier hearth house, just above the main building. The loom, which is painted and has an inscribed date of 1850, has been on the farm since that time. It was related that Johanna, born on the farm in 1875, and Olava, who was Johanna’s aunt and was born sometime between 1840 and 1845, wove rugs on the same loom. It was also said that, “We have woven in this manner the whole time,” so here we have the local pattern composition in rug weaving traditions from far back in time.

The summer rugs in the picture have brown and beige/grey ground fields and stripe fields in shades of yellow, green and blue repeated for the entire length. In Røros such rugs are called double striped because the stripe fields are symmetrical around a dominating middle stripe. In the center of the stripe fields one sees dark wefts with two white wefts before and after. From the white stripes, the weft is arranged in systematic order according to how light or dark the colors are. Because the ground field is light and the rugs double striped, it is the lightest colors in the stripe fields that lie nearest the ground fields. The color tones in the stripe fields thus become darker towards the center, ending with the darkest color against the white weft, creating the most contrast possible. Therefore, it is the black stripe that marks the center. This arrangement is the same, regardless of whether the stripe fields are woven in yellow, green or blue. But, if the ground field had been a darker color, the arrangement of the light and dark color nuances in the stripe field would have been the reverse, and the center stripe would have been light instead. The thought process behind the creation of this pattern composition indicates a clear sense for, and an awareness of, the effect when using contrasts. One finds this manner of weaving in several places in the Røros area.

At the Stensåsen mountain cabin 

Rugs from a cabin at Stensåsen

All the rugs in the above picture were woven around 1950 when the cabin was built. There were to be new rugs on all the floors when the cabin was finished. It was said that rugs were a simple way to make things pleasant. The color choice also indicates that the rugs were woven to lie in the same room. The pattern compositions are different from rug to rug, but it is easy to see the similarities in the arrangement of both ground and stripe fields.

The weaver arranged things such that she had a good amount of material on hand when she began, saved over several years. Wool rags were used exclusively for the ground fields, and the first thing the weaver did was to divide beige, grey and brown materials for this use. Only cotton rags were used in the stripe fields. In response to the question of whether it was difficult to blend materials with such dissimilar qualities as wool and cotton in the same rug, the answer was that there would not have been as many rugs if both materials had not been used. It was just important to lay in the weft with the right wave before one beat it in, with larger waves for the weft if it was wool rather than cotton. Also, when the rags were cut, care was given to the blending of materials. This was an understanding that weavers have gained through years of experience, knowledge that resides in the hand and is difficult to describe in a simple way with words, an expertise that is both practical and important.

The husband of the weaver was also involved in the rug weaving. He participated in winding the warp on the loom and in cutting the rags, having insight into all the work that lay behind the process from start to finish. He also admitted that as a boy he had sometimes run off to hide when there was talk of having to take part in a rag cutting session.

With thoughts in mind of the status that rugs and rug weaving had for people, he had another story: In the beginning of the war, he and a pair of other men helped Judith Rugldalen move to a more secure residence. She had a good deal of earthly possessions, of which much was glass and porcelain. But the thing she cried out to the movers as they drew away was: “You must see to it that you are careful with my new rug.” And that instruction should speak for itself.

If we look more closely at the pattern composition in the Stensåsen rugs, we can clearly see similarities in the way they were woven. All four rugs have stripe fields in different color tones that are systematically repeated for the entire length. Here the colors red and blue are combined with a golden yellow tone that is repeated in regular stripe fields in all the rugs. The ground fields, otherwise, are narrow and uniform in color. Weaving with rags from wool blankets is a rewarding job, according to the weaver. One cuts up a quarter of the blanket at a time and weaves it in. Then it’s easy to see how far one comes with a quarter of the material, getting a good idea of how much one can weave with what remains. Even more attention is perhaps devoted to working with the stripe fields. In several of the rugs there is an extra pattern effect: When two fabric scraps are laid in and twisted together in the same shed, a diagonal pattern appears. Some call this pattern a “twig stripe” [kvistrand]. The expression comes from the effect when two such wefts are woven one after the other. In the first shed the two fabric scraps, usually a light and a dark, are twisted together with an S twist before the weft is beaten in. In the next shed the two fabric scraps are twisted the opposite way, with a Z twist, and then beaten in. To make the twig pattern clearer, it was helpful to insert a single-colored weft, either dark or light, between the twisted wefts.

All indications are that the processes are carefully developed and thought through – here we are not talking about just using resources in whatever fashion.

Local traditions in the context of mountain and coastal cultures 

Descriptions of the rugs above indicate that local traditions do exist.

In Røros, the greatest number of registered rugs are woven with single-colored or uniform ground fields, that is the ground fields are the same for the entire length of the rug. The uniform ground fields can be broken up by stripes, preferably with similar color tones as the main color in the ground field. Another common characteristic is that over half of the Røros rugs are woven with stripe fields where the color arrangement in these different fields systematically recurs in repeats for the entire length of the rug, for example with red, blue and green.

In Fosen the ground field colors vary in another way. Nearly half of the rugs are woven with ground fields in different colors that are inserted in a systematic order, for example dark blue, light blue or beige. Another common characteristic is that quite a few rugs in Fosen are woven with stripe fields that are symmetrical and woven exactly the same for the entire length of the rug.

Combinations of stripe fields and ground fields that depend on one another create a very definite composition system. This appears logical and has evolved over time, developing into local traditions. The relationship was not verbalized by the weavers who have worked in the traditions of which they are a part. From conversations after the conclusion of this investigation, it appears that the weavers were quite satisfied to represent a continuation of their local tradition, and to be contributors that will serve to carry it forward.

Analysis of interesting rug finds

This registration work confirms the impression of a multifaceted textile tradition. The several hundred rugs in the survey each had their own characteristics, but documentation showed that none were exactly alike. Nonetheless, by registering, cataloging and categorizing the rag rugs, common characteristics can be identified. Through technique, equipment and materials, particular pattern compositions have developed into a tradition, with typical traits emerging as the weavers nurtured their handcraft. Over time and through their own work experience, they developed a feel for a suitable work rhythm, a functional use of materials, a beautiful or pleasing choice of colors and an exciting and/or harmonious pattern composition. People’s need for harmony through order has been expressed in the symmetry that dominates the stripe field compositions.

The intentional focus on composition as the basis for categorizing also contributed to an understanding of simple ways to design a rug, where one can evaluate one’s own quantity of materials relative to the composition without being dependent on a particular set of instructions or a specific weft order. In the final analysis, the most important thing was to arrive at the right rhythm and the right proportions between ground fields and stripe fields, all based on the available materials.

The beginning point for weaving a rag rug is the rag pile: the dress that has become too small, the pants that are now too short, the shirt that is too tight, curtains faded from the sun, sheets that are worn out, the old wool blanket that we remember we’ve always had. The beginning point is fixed.

Thoughts of the rag pile bring many question to mind. Why do the rugs look like they do? How does the amount of materials affect the development of these textiles? What is the connection between the allocation of materials and aesthetic expression?

The available materials will always vary from weaver to weaver, and every single weaver will always have a choice within a set frame. All the weavers related that the choice and amount of materials were the beginning for any work at the loom, indicating a conscious attitude towards their resources. It also appears that all weavers began the work process relative to pattern composition by evaluating the amount of materials that could be allocated to the ground fields.

Interviews with rug weavers indicated that the rag materials were in no way casually distributed. To this question, many of the weavers expressed the same thing, the work process began by deciding which materials should be used for the ground fields.

A weaver from Røros who had just woven a rug with very dark ground fields said the rags were from the worn pants of her husband’s uniform. In describing the work process, she said she began by cutting up each pant leg, ending with four pieces. She then divided each piece in two along the creases, making eight pieces. This then became eight ground fields, and because just at that time she was lucky enough to have two pairs of pants to work with, she had sixteen ground fields and could have a weaving length that was twice as long. Here we see a clear example of the direct connection between the materials one has on hand and the composition of the rug. A large piece of fabric in a standard format became a unit of measure. Bolster fabric, comforter covers and wool blankets were obviously welcome sources of rags in this context. In addition, consideration of whether the end result would be seen as pleasing was of overriding importance.

Some thoughts in conclusion…

Why did the weaver spend so much time and energy at her loom? In her research on women and textile work, Louise Walldèn posed this question regarding the significance of time-consuming textile work in general, to which there can be a practical and a non-practical answer. The practical explanation is most commonly used in a historical context and is expressed in the need to make a socially useful contribution and to engage in work in which one sees lasting value. It is easy to define rag rug weaving as such. Central to the non-practical explanation is the need to create, the need for beauty and the need to make a separate space around oneself. These are factors that, in addition to the element of resource reuse, can be related to the investment of time and energy used in weaving rag rugs.

The rug loom could well have functioned as a place where the weavers were able to legitimize the use of their free time. The need to create, the pleasure found in weaving, and the need for expression realized through the rug loom, was quite evident in the situation described by one weaver: “I had the loom set up in an outer house, so I could slip away for a bit of weaving in amongst my daily work.”  

The meditative aspect of textile activities has a point, the meditative effect of attending to the need for calm, of the awareness that things take time. Historically there has been a requirement that women’s hands should always be busy. With textile activities, women have had the opportunity to withdraw somewhat and have some time for themselves, let their thoughts wander, let their souls find peace, let matters mellow – and perhaps simply let go of thinking. When that which one uses their hands for requires attention, one can become so preoccupied that other problems fall away. When one works with their hands in textiles, and in this context it is easy to insert weaving as a concrete example, a rhythm develops that is one’s own inner human rhythm. One can come in contact with oneself and, delving into one’s own human dimension in this way, can also learn that things take the time that they take.

The need to create something will always be there. Having limited means is no longer the point of departure, yet the need to create something useful, preferably from that which is on hand, has run like a common thread through many people’s lives. The drive to make beautiful that which is necessary, or that which is possible, is an important value, and a need that has been expressed by many diligent hands.

“The Rug”
By Astrid Volden, Oppdal

The rug that lies before my bed,
Has stripes of many colors.
They lived as clothing a long, long time
Worn outside-in and inside-out.

A dress I had when I was three
Striped white with tiny blue dots.
And the stripe of gold with a little light blue 
Has taken its turn as a bib.

My first school dress, it was checkered,
With squares of green and red.
It lies in the rug as a multi-hued band
Alongside a piece of pillow slip.

The light yellow pullover I liked the best,
For store bought clothes were rare,
Reminds me of confirmation and celebrations
And being walked home in the darkening evening.

One stripe of silk, a moss-green taffeta,
Was long my favorite thing:
The nicest dress I’ve ever had.
It reminds me of my boyfriend’s ring.

And here is the shirt of my husband,
Worn out in his summer’s work.
Now it’s no more than the finest stripe
Alongside clothing worn by the children.

I read about life in this rug of mine,
About things that have happened over time,
I wove them together into a rug,
And here it has lain ever since.

Resources

• Bergman, Ingrid 1980: Bruk och återbruk. Återanvänding av gamla kläder i bondesamhäl- let. Fataburen – Nordiska museets och Skansens årbok. 
• Eldin, Pia 1986: Från enris til ossa. En bok om handvävde mattor i Sverige. Stockholm, LTs Förlag. 
• Gauslaa, Torbjørg 1994: Anna Grostøl på Lista. Litt om granskingsarbeidet hennar – 1920/50-talet. Lillehammer, T. Gauslaa. 
• Jensen, Inger 1981: Bruk av melsekker. Dugnad nr.2.
  
• Mürer, Anette 1991: Filleryer – en fargeglad hverdagssliter. Hytteliv nr.1.
• Mæhle, Eli 1936: Vev matter selv! 19 mønsterskisser hvorav ere i farver. Oslo, Fabritius & Sønners Forlag. 
• Sandstad, Anne Grete 1997: Bare ei matte. Hovedfagsoppgave, Høgskolen i Oslo. Avd. for estetiske fag. 
• Sandstad, Anne Grete 1999: Filleryer – matter i norsk vevtradisjon, Oslo, Landbruksfor- laget. 
• Sandstad, Anne Grete 2001: Den mangfoldige matteveven. Årbok for Fosen.
• Sundt, Eilert (1869) 1975: Om renligheds-stellet i Norge. Oslo, Gyldendal Norsk Forlag. 
• Waldèn, Louise 1989: Den tidkrävende onyttighetens betydelse. Hemslöjden nr.6. 
• Wang, Marit 1983: Ruteåklær. Bidrag til karakteristikk, ordning og plassering. Oslo, Universitetsforlaget. 

Other sources

• Grostøl, Anna: Anna Grostøls samlinger. Notes in volume 4. Oslo, Norsk Folkemuseum, Bygdøy.
• Waldèn, Louise 1995: Sånn er livet. Intervju in Astrid Brekkens program, NRK P1, 06.04.1995. 

Notes

1.  Unless otherwise noted, statements referred to in the text are from my field research in Fosen and Røros from 1994 to 1997.
2.  Sundt 1869: 113.
3.  Eldin 1986: 9.
4.  Statement from an informant in Røros in 1995.
5.  Statistics Norway 2005.
6.  Statement from Heidi Sørensen 1995.
7.  Aschehougs og Gyldendals Store Norske Leksikon, Kunnskapsforlaget 1993.
8.  Anne Grostøl Collections, Norwegian Folk Musuem.

Anne Grete Sandstad, born in 1952, is a textile historian and the Curator of Costumes and Textiles at MIST department Sverresborg in Trondheim (now retired). She led the project of cooperation on textile nomenclature in Norway, and has been responsible for the project registrating woven coverlets in Southern Trøndelag – 6000 all told, which resulted in a book being published, Åklær: Å Kle ei Seng, Å Veve et Åkle. She has also participated in the Swedish/Norwegian project «Klesdraktens Magi» (the magic of clothing). Anne Gretes Master’s thesis was about the history of rag rug weaving.

Translators: 
Katherine Larson, Assistant Affiliate Professor, Department of Scandinavian Studies, University of Washington
Marta Kløve Juuhl (retired), Osterøy Museum, Museumssenteret i Hordaland