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Anti-Monument: The 2022 Hannah Ryggen Triennial

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By Christine Novotny

I flew into Trondheim on a characteristically foggy and cool day. The mountains surrounding Norway’s third largest city tend to welcome these precipitous systems that give the area a pensive mood. I traveled to Trondheim to see the tapestries of Hannah Ryggen, a weaver who combined folk tradition and more contemporary narrative techniques to create politically charged, humanist tapestries. The Nordenfjeldske Kunstindustrimuseum was hosting the third Hannah Ryggen Triennial, which boasts a variety of art shows all over the city. Each show contains some of Ryggen’s work with a grouping of contemporary artists who are making work in a similar vein, showing that the themes and concepts of Ryggen’s work are universal and still relevant today. 

The 2022 triennial’s theme is “Anti-Monument,” an idea in contemporary art that challenges all aspects of traditional memorials and seeks to deny the presence of a one-sided authoritarian force in public spaces. Hannah’s work is anti-monument in many ways. Ryggen tells the stories of the people, not the authoritarian power. She disempowers dangerous dictators by embarrassing them, or rewriting history all together. In 6. Oktober 1942 (6 October 1942), she weaves a cartoonish Adolf Hitler flying through the air, propelled by his own flatulence. In Ethiopia, she rewrites history by depicting Benito Mussolini with a spear through his head. She weaves the truth as she sees it, from a perspective of universal compassion and a strong anti-fascist disposition. 

I spent 5 days in Trondheim, and seeing each show was the only thing I had planned. I went to some shows multiple times, but I spent the most time with “Anti-Monument I” in the Trondheim Kunstmuseum’s Gråmølna. This show contains the largest number of Ryggen’s original tapestries, interspersed with powerful contemporary pieces. 

The show’s first room centered around Hannah Ryggen’s meaningful tapestry Vi lever på en stjerne (We Are Living on a Star), Ryggen’s love letter to this world, an expression of compassion and faith in humanity. This tapestry was hanging in the Norwegian government center during the 2011 terrorist attack and was permanently altered when the car bomb detonated next to the building. The tapestry took all kinds of abuse, including being hit with debris, and soaked in water during the clearing of the building. The most visible damage was the bottom right corner, where the tapestry was split. During restoration, the decision was made to leave the repair visible, and retain this part of the story in the piece. 

Ryggen, Hannah. “We are Living on a Star.” Photo: Christine Novotny

Everyone who talked to me about the tapestry’s damage referred to it as a “laceration” or a “wound.” Its visible repair was called a “scar.” The descriptions were so bodily, suggesting the piece was not just a tapestry, but an artwork that was very much alive, and now held a new, denser meaning within it. 

Ryggen, Hannah. “We are Living on a Star.” (Detail with visible repairs) Photo: Christine Novotny

In the same room was a stunning installation from Norwegian artist Marthe Minde, entitled Mellom loft og kjellar (Between Attic and Stairs). The sculpture has two oval shaped mirrors with a cascading staircase of branches woven into handspun wool from Minde’s region. The mirrored shapes on the top and bottom of the sculpture are the exact dimensions of the shape that is centered in We Are Living on a Star. Within the shape, there is a passage that the visitor is invited to enter. I saw myself reflected in the mirrors both below and above, surrounded by a thousand delicate handspun threads. The dialogue between Minde and Ryggen seems to suggest that we are still a part of the story being written; we are living within the same kinds of events that drove Hannah to weave these stories. It is a poetic reminder of our participation in this broken and repairing world. 

Minde, Marthe. “Between Attic and Stairs.” Photo: Christine Novotny

Other works included The Prodigal Son, a tapestry commissioned by a church to depict the biblical parable. In the story, a father has two sons, and the younger son asks for his portion of the inheritance, only to squander it away and eventually become destitute. He comes back to his father, expecting scorn. Instead, his father welcomes him back with love and a great party. It is a beautiful story of redemption. 

At some point after Hannah had woven the top half depicting the story, the church withdrew the commission. Ryggen added a panel onto the bottom of the narrative–wide bands of blue and yellow with meandering footstep shapes in knotted rya, presumably the prodigal son wandering in his journey away from home. 

Hannah Ryggen, “Prodigal Son.” Photo: Christine Novotny

The show’s curator, Solveig Lonmo, told me that this tapestry had been more or less forgotten in a lecture hall of the local university, and the museum decided to display it for the show. The day they unrolled the piece at the installation was the day that Putin invaded Ukraine. The blue and yellow portion seemed to speak to the present, and the wandering footsteps to a war-torn nation of people displaced from their homes. It’s another example of Ryggen’s prescient work, and how she continues speaking to us today. 

Also included in the show was a 45-minute video about “Memory Wound,” the proposed memorial for the 69 victims who were murdered in the 2011 terrorist attack on Utoya island. The story of the memorial was told by its creator, Swedish artist Jonas Dahlberg, whose winning design would have cut a channel into the rocky point that looks out onto Utoya. Visitors would be led down a winding path through the forest, and eventually would be led below the surface of the point. Across the channel, they would be met with the names of the victims etched on the stone opposite them. This would provide a quiet place to mourn and turn the gaze inward. 

Dahlberg, Jonas. “Memory Wound (from a video of the proposed memorial)” Photo: Christine Novotny

While the proposal won global acclaim, the memorial was never realized after 20-30 residents in the Utoya region protested its violent nature. In the memorial, Jonas asks which is more violent, the act or the work? How can a country heal when it cannot face the truth? Even though the memorial was never built, the many years of discussion within Norway and the art world, and the circulating design photo of the proposed piece makes it feel like “Memory Wound” exists even though it was never physically built. It seemed incredibly relevant to the United States, where we are reckoning with accepting the often sordid truth of our own country’s making and the present-day violence that is born from our inability to repair that harm. 

The Hannah Ryggen Triennial was full of artwork that challenges our perception of truth, that asks us to explore the humanity behind history, and the stories of those who have been lost. Hannah Ryggen’s work is so powerful because it still effortlessly participates in discourse with the global community, using events that were present to Ryggen, and history that we continue to reckon with. 

Christine Ann Novotny is a Minnesota-based handweaver, educator, and designer who runs the textile studio CAN Goods. She seeks to bring a vibrant, colorful energy to handweaving that invites people to reconsider the textiles in their life, and to evolve the practice of handweaving through contemporary handwoven goods and craft education. 
Read more about Christine’s impression of the Triennial, with additional photos, in the North House Folk School blog post, “Hannah Ryggen Triennial in Trondheim.”
August 2022
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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.

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. 

Flesberg Exhibit 2005: Americans (and a Canadian) Try Out the Norwegian Technique

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The Flesberg Study Group concluded their exploration with an exhibit of Flesberg weaving in the Gustafson Gallery at Luther College’s Center for the Arts, October 10 – 22, 2005. 

From the catalog: 

In the summer of 2003, the Vesterheim Museum/Norwegian Textile Guild Textile Study Tour to Norway visited Lågdal Folk Museum in Numedal.While there, tour members were shown coverlets from the small community of Flesberg. These coverlets proved to be a combination of typical Norwegian three-shaft krokbragd and the rosepath threading more commonly used in Sweden.Immediate interest developed among tour members, and inquiries were made about this local tradition.Fortuitously, meticulous documention had already been undertaken.

In the course of a four-year project that began in 1991, the Flesberg Farm Women’s Organization (Flesberg Bondekvinnelag) researched their community coverlet tradition, gathering a collection of 30 historic textiles from farms in their area.In 1994 they created a booklet of samples and drafts based on these 30 coverlets, each named after the farm with which it was associated.They called their local tradition, and their booklet, Flesbergplegg.

In 2004, the Flesberg Farm Women’s Organization was kind enough to share their traditions and their booklet with Vesterheim Museum and the Norwegian Textile Guild, providing a basis for the Flesberg Study Group. The group of 27 weavers studied the Flesberg patterns independently for more than a year, and is pleased to present a selection of their results, both traditional and contemporary, in the Exhibit of the Flesberg Study Group.

It was a varied and colorful exhibit, and one that added new textile fans. Kate Martinson, a professor of Textiles at Luther College who mounted the exhibit, was impressed. “Our students were intrigued by the complexity of the patterns and the color work. For me that was a great thing, as colleagues were not kind to or supportive of fibers.”

The titles of three pieces referenced the pattern names from the Norwegian booklet, which were taken from the Flesberg-area farms where the historical coverlets were researched.  

Norma Smayda
“‘Ørstein’ Norwegian blanket chest cover”
19” x 33”.  Warp: 12/6 natural cotton. Weft: Rauma åklegarn, Klippens åsborya. Sett: 6.3 epi (25/10 cm)

Norma Smayda. Saunderstown, RI

Norma Smayda
“Ørstein, Håvardsrud, Væråsmogen”
19” x 23”. Warp: 12/6 natural cotton. Weft: Rauma åklegarn, Klippens åsborya. Sett: 6.3 epi (25/10 cm)

Norma Smayda. Saunderstown, RI

Robbie LaFleur
“Norwegian Sunshine II” 
28” x 37″. Warp: linen. Weft: jute yarn and silk fabric strips. Sett: 6 epi

Robbie LaFleur, Minneapolis, MN

Katharine Dickerson 
“Futon Cover for a Yurt”
75” x 115”. Warp: linen. Weft: wool. Sett: 8 epi

Jan Mostrom
“Flesberg Rag Rug”
27 “x 45”. Warp: 12/6 brown seine twine warp. Weft: 1⁄2” homespun cotton fabric strips. Sett: 5 epi.

Notes:  I used a temple when weaving and added weight to my beater.  I beat on an open shed and then again on a closed shed.  After taking the rug off the loom, I used a sweater shaver to remove frayed threads.

Jan Mostrom, Chanhassan, MN

Syvilla Tweed Bolson
“Flesbergplegg Variations”
23” x 48”. Warp: Swedish cotton seine. Weft: Norwegian spelsau wool. Sett: 6 epi

Syvilla Bolson, Decorah, Iowa

Wendy Sundquist
“Small purse”
6” x 9.5”. Warp: 12/6 black cotton. Weft:  wool yarn. Sett: 6 epi 

Notes:  I have always been fascinated with small purses.  These purses seem to have originated in the days when garments had no pockets and an external pocket or bag was required to hold small personal items.  This piece is constructed with a Flesberg panel attached to a ‘vadmal’ inner bag.  It is lined with a duponi silk fabric.  The strap is card woven, not unlike some of the early straps on ‘pocket bags’.  It is finished with a sterling silver clasp.

Wendy Sundquist, Langley, Washington

Jan Kroyer
“Adaptation of Flesberg # 28, Wingestad #3”
15” x 27”. Warp: cotton. Weft: wool (Åklegarn). Sett: 6 epi 

Jan Kroyer, Stoughton, WI

Barbara Stam
“Nordic Nights”
19″ x 20.5″. Warp: 70/3 linen (navy). Weft: 50/50 silk and wool (navy, beige, light blue). Sett: 12 epi. 

Notes:  My studies and experiments in the Flesberg technique were aimed towards a functional garment.  It was a challenge to find a fine but strong warp and an appropriate sett that would show the Flesberg designs but not be excessively heavy.  I also discovered that color choice made a huge difference in the visibility of the designs.  This vest uses portions of drafts # 16 (border I), #20 (border I), #25, #27 (border II) and #28 (border II).

Barbara Stam, Fallston, MD

Nancy Ellison 
8” x 12”. Warp: 12/6 black cotton.  Weft: wool in natural sheep colors. Sett: 6 epi. 

Notes:  After raising natural colored sheep for 27 years, I have a fascination of using various shades of sheep colors and enjoy them more than dyed colors.  My Shetland and Icelandic sheep have similarities to Norwegian breeds.  Some of the yarn I spun by hand, some had been spun by a mill.  One of the yarns I spun from Villsau wool I got in Norway while on a Vesterheim textile tour.  I spun the yarn on one of the antique Norwegian spinning wheels in my collection.  I used drafts from the numbers one and seven study group patterns.

Nancy Ellison, Zumbrota, MN

 

Sharon Marquardt: Using Traditional Voss Rye Technique–to Depict Show Shoveling?

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By Robbie LaFleur

The Baldishol tapestry, woven around 1180.

In 2005 Sharon Marquardt attended a lecture by Marta Kløve Juuhl; it is reprinted in this issue, “Voss Ryer – Traditional Bedcover and Contemporary Art.” Sharon was intrigued by the technique. Fourteen years later she incorporated Voss rye into her remarkable entry in the exhibit at Norway House in Minneapolis, “The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Fiber Art.”  

Sharon Marquardt, “Birthday Blizzard”

Sharon described how the Baldishol inspired her image.

When the exhibit was announced, entrants were encouraged to be creative. I employed the arch, name of the month, and figure from the Baldishol to use in my tapestry… A January blizzard in west-central Minnesota had blocked my doorway, so I had to shovel out. It’s also the month of my birthday; therefore the title “Birthday Blizzard.”

The image itself was clever, but the method she used to make it was amazing. Sharon Marquardt’s ongoing study of Norwegian weaving techniques laid the foundation for her weaving. Marta Kløve Juuhl was a important instructor and mentor in her weaving education. 

Sharon Marquardt, Sampler of West Coast åkle techniques woven on a warp weighted loom.

In 2005 Sharon took a course on Western Norway åkle techniques on the warp weighted loom from Marta at Vesterheim Folk Art School. This is the (impeccable) sampler Sharon wove. 

This class built on her skills learned in a workshop In 1999, when she studied Sámi grene weaving from instructors from the Manndalen Husflidslag in northern Norway. Classes were held at Vågan Folkehøgskole in Kabelvåg in the Lofoten Islands. Sharon’s grandmother came from the island of Andøya.

In 2006 Sharon joined a rya study group organized through The Norwegian Textile Letter. It was led by Judy Ness, a weaver and weaving instructor at the University of Oregon, with Marta Kløve Juuhl as a consultant. Sharon was interested in the Voss rye Marta described the previous year and reached out to Marta via email for tips. In 2007 when Marta was again teaching at Vesterheim, Sharon consulted with her in person. “I had woven what I thought was a Voss rya for a loom bench cover,” Sharon said, “but Marta tactfully informed me I had woven it completely wrong. She graciously gave me some tips and a copy of her instructions for a Voss coverlet.”

Marta Kløve Juuhl brought this Voss rye to the Conference on Norwegian Weaving in 2005.

icelandic varafeldur knot

In 2018 Sharon continued study with Marta when she took her class at Vesterheim, “Weaving Techniques for a Vararfell.” In this Icelandic pile weave, unspun locks are knotted into the woven base with a special knot. (More on the technique here.)

By the time Sharon created “Birthday Blizzard,” she used her broad skill set in a unique combination to depict an image inspired by the medieval Baldishol Tapestry. In particular, she used expertise she gained from Marta in two Norwegian techniques–Voss rye and the Icelandic varafell pile weave.  

She used a Voss rye threading with rye knots for the snow and inner borders. Calling on her tapestry experience, she used inlay threads in various colors on her basketweave background to form the shapes. The weave structure enhanced texture in her forms. Look at the bark-like effect of the basketweave on the tree trunk. This detail includes her dog and snow-covered mailbox, too. 

Sharon used 16/3 bleached linen at a sett of 20 ends per inch. The weft was Rauma prydvevgarn. She used several strands of Swedish faro singles or Norwegian brodergarn for the inlay. Some details were added with embroidery.

The deep, fuzzy outer frame is woven in Icelandic varafell technique. The locks were from sheep owned by Joana Friesz from New Salem, North Dakota. 

Sharon’s work shows a broad leap of creativity and vision to adapt the Voss rye technique for a tapestry-like image. How wonderfully the background weave structure worked for her sweater!

Perhaps if someone asked her how long the weaving took, she could answer “Fourteen years”–the time since she first heard the Voss rye lecture. 

When Marta Kløve Juuhl saw a photo of her student’s new work, she was clearly impressed. “Sharon’s piece is amazing,” Marta wrote. “She has transformed the rya technique into a piece of art, also including varafell technique on the edges!”

“Our Calendar”: A Very Personal Baldishol Interpretation

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By Lisa Torvik 

Editors note: In the exhibit at Norway House this summer, “The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles,” artists reimagined aspects of the famous Norwegian work. Many learned about the tapestry for the first time; others were very familiar with the image. Lisa Torvik grew up with it, literally; her mother recreated the image in needlepoint years ago. 

For the exhibit at Norway House I wanted the challenge of creating something large, and thought the rough dimensions of the original Baldishol tapestry were a good start.  The overall structure, too, was helpful to copy because unlike the individual motifs, I was inspired by the months.  I immediately thought of our birth months, mine and my husband Neil’s, which are February and March.  I filled each of our “months” with personal and historical references, and things that have inspired us.

Lisa’s panel: The Norwegian Links

Frida Hansen, “Løvetand,” 1893.

My favorite historical weaver is Frida Hansen and I included a few motifs from her work that other Frida fans will pick up on:  the stars from The Milky Way, of course, but also the bunched floral corners and, from my favorite piece of her work, Dandelions.  They may not fly in the air, at least not until they go to seed, but as per the inscription she wove in, the dandelion is “the plant that grows the more it’s tread upon.”  Dandelions was her personal contribution to the textiles displayed in the Norwegian section of the Women’s Pavilion of the Chicago World Exhibition of 1893.  It was created under contract with the Norwegian Feminist Association, led by close personal friends of Frida’s. 

Lisa Torvik

The author at her wedding, wearing a beaded belt

Much of the rest of February is from the Valdres district of Norway, where I worked in the local museum and attended weaving school.  The barn features a låverosa, or barn rose, which has an interesting origin in the creative carpentry of a Valdres man who worked in Pennsylvania Dutch country for a period in the late 1800s, then returned home to Valdres.  Bitihorn is a landmark mountain in Øystre Slidre township as one enters the Jotunheim mountain range from Highway 51.  The stakk or jumper of my bunad, or national costume, is the fest plaid from Robøle farm, an ancient farm once encompassing most of the area and the farm on which I lived.  I have used the exact same yarn, Røros Nr. 2, and colors that are used in its weft to suggest the plaid, though the weave structure is actually a more complex pointed twill called ringvend.  My belt is beaded with a silver buckle, suggested by my miniature applique.  I have several pins I wear, more round than rectangular but oh well….and the kjerringkniv on my belt some might wonder at.  Not a weapon, but a utensil, worn nearest one’s favored hand.  A man’s knife on the other hand….literally…

Woven keyboard and mouse!

I show my shuttle as triumphing, finally, over my keyboard and mouse, though the latter are still a big part of my everyday, for work.  After nearly forty years, I long to engage with “technology” that does not require a password!  Or updating software!  No virus bots or spyware haunt my looms or needles.

The bottom border under February loosely reproduces motifs from the design of the Valdres sweater, the heart-shaped curls offset by cross-hatched diamonds.  I have knit it several times.

The blue column represents slate tiles of Øystre Slidre, and the waves beside represent Surnadal.

The central column is part of the original Baldishol design, and I have decorated it with the communal coats of arms of two Norwegian townships: Øystre Slidre, depicting in sky blue its history as a producer of roofing slate (skifer), and Surnadal, with its fishing and maritime past represented by bright green waves.  My grandfather was born and grew up there.  

Neil’s panel: The Irish Connection

Triskele

On to the Irish.  My husband Neil’s family originated many places in Europe, but from what he knows, mostly in Ireland. And it is Irish culture he most admires.  So we start with the triskele, an ancient symbol about which not much is known for sure but that does not stop varying interpretations.  Also sometimes called the three-legged man, it was carved on rocks as much as 3000 years ago in Ireland.  I continue the border with shamrocks, of course.  

The sweater is partially knitted.

Neil is resting his vorpal sword. Usually it’s invisible, but it’s always at the ready to slay the unrighteous jabberwock and other monsters. He has never worn a kilt, though we briefly toyed with the idea for our wedding.  However, he has great legs and should show them off, in my opinion.  His socks are woven with real Aran Isle yarn and I am particularly proud of getting some perspective right, for once, with his feet. His sweater is woven and partly knit out of the same weaving yarn, my good old Røros Nr. 2.  I knit the same front pattern from a sweater I have knit for him, a Guernsey pattern from the channel islands.  

My husband requested that I show something related to his career as a grade school teacher, something he loved and was good at.  So, some books and a little slate lie by his feet. He holds up a palette, representing his return to painting, and the cliffs are taken from one of his paintings that he made from a photograph of Shetland.  He loves the ocean, so there had to be some waves crashing on the cliffs. I wanted to squeeze in a pint of Guinness next to his guitar, but was afraid I did not have enough room, having to make everything line up with the top and bottom borders too.  So the space is bare, but I embroidered in a wee pint anyway, in the border below it.

Lisa Torvik credits early influences of her mother, grandmothers, aunts and friends in Norway for her knitting, sewing, embroidery and weaving interests.  She spent a year in her youth studying weaving at Valdres Husflidsskule in Fagernes, Norway and now focuses on projects in traditional Norwegian techniques and more contemporary applications.

“The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles is available to view by appointment at Norway House through the end of September 2020. See the exhibit virtually or sign up to visit at: https://www.norwayhouse.org/baldishol-virtual-tour. You can also read articles about many of the pieces on the Norwegian Textile Letter exhibit page. 

RETRO REPRINT: Voss Ryer – Traditional Bedcover and Contemporary Art

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By Marta Kløve Juuhl

Editor’s note: This article was originally published in the Norwegian Textile Letter, Vol XII No. 3,  May, 2006. It was the keynote presentation at the Conference on Norwegian Woven Textiles held at Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum in October 2005. The photos in this reprint are courtesy of the Voss Folkemuseum. 

Three years ago, Voss Folkemuseum had a great exhibition on ryer (pile coverlets), a traditional textile in Voss for the past 200 or 300 years.  Voss is situated in western Norway, not along the coast though; it’s inland.  Through the local newspaper the museum asked the inhabitants to borrow ryer (I will use the Norwegian word) for the exhibition.  They got about 70, mostly from the farms in the district.

And I was asked to be a part of the exhibition, so to speak.  They wanted me to put up a loom in the museum’s great hall and sit there and weave during the summer 2002.  Of course, I accepted that invitation, partly because I am a weaver and partly because I grew up on a farm in Voss where we have quite a few of these old ryer.  I felt I could contribute to the exhibition in that way.

I will describe:

  1. The development of Voss ryer – from sheepskins to a woven textile
  2. Traditions in use
  3. How to make ryer
  4. The variety of design
  5. Inspiration for making new ryer

Variety of design was evident at the exhibition at Voss Folkemuseum in 2002.

The development of Voss ryer – from sheepskins to a woven textile

In the early houses, consisting of only one room with an open hearth, there were low benches made of earth along the walls.  The earthen benches were used to lie on.  Sheepskins were then used as blankets, both over and underneath the people when they slept.  Later on, these skins were replaced by the ryer and plain blankets made of wool.

Today of course, we realize that the ryer were based on the sheepskin idea, or perhaps you could say that they were inspired by them.  

Sheep-farming has long traditions in the Voss rural area, so there was certainly never any shortage of skins there.  Weaving took time, and it was intricate, so it was not a savings of work when the sheepskins went out of fashion for bedding. Besides, they had plenty of other uses for the skins, such as for clothing.

It was found to be more beneficial to shear the sheep in spring and autumn than to slaughter them. The ryer were much more pleasant to use, and they were easier to keep clean than the sheepskins. A rye can stand a good washing.

But still they were not so clean all the time. I have heard a story about a girl who was engaged to a farmer’s son and when she came to the farm to stay overnight for the first time, she was placed in a bed with a dirty old rye. I don’t think she considered that a warm welcome. I don’t know if they ever got married.

Traditions in use

The majority of the farms have a separate outside building, called a loft, where the valuables of the family were stored. This is where there were chests with the silver and other precious items.  This is also where their best clothing was hung to air, and where their tapestries, ryer and woolen blankets were kept.  

The servant girls slept in the loft on summer nights–no doubt under the colorful ryer.  Beds were to be found in the living rooms of the farms, too. Because beautiful woven articles gave a certain status, people began to adorn the beds with ryer and colored woolen blankets, to show to their visitors and families.

From the Voss Folkemuseum exhibition. A rye is on the bed, with the smooth side up.

On cold winter days, the ryer were used on the open horse-drawn sleighs, to keep the travelers warm.  And when the rye was too old for anything else it was used on the horse’s back on cold winter days.  

One of my parents’ friends, an old lady, told me a story about when her family’s rye was stolen.  This was in the 1930s when the farmers still used horses when they needed to go into Voss sentrum (city center). They were invited to a Christmas party on a very cold winter’s day. They felt sorry for the horse who had to wait outside the house for them. So they put the warmest and most precious thing they had on its back, the rye.  When they returned after the party, the rye had been stolen. The farmer’s wife never made another rye.  

Voss is not close to the coast, so using ryer in the boats was not a topic here. But the fishermen in northern Norway used to use ryer in boats. And when speaking of ryer to common Norwegians today, they think of båtryer (boat ryer.)

In some districts in Norway they have also used rags as the nap or pile, but we have no documentation for that in the Voss area. That is the same with initials and numbers; I have never seen them on ryer from Voss.

How to make ryer

Voss ryer consist of a loom-woven blanket and a nap, or pile, rug.  I will use the word nap to describe the loose yarns hanging down; they are 5 – 8 cm long.  Two different weaving techniques are combined to make into one rye.  While the blanket (you may also call it the bottom) is woven, the nap is knotted into it simultaneously.  Thus, the rye has a smooth side and a nap side.

The ryer are woven in woolen yarn, both in warp, weft and nap.  In bygone days the looms were narrower than today, so the majority of the ryer are woven in two widths of approximately 70-75 centimeters, and then sewn together down the middle.

The weaving technique is diamond twill on four harnesses and four treadles, and the pile knot is almost always placed right in the middle of the diamond.  Sometimes you can see the pile knots on the smooth side just as decorative spots, but I think it is most common that they are not shown.  

There are two different knots which are used.  When the knots are not to be shown, you tie the yarn (nap) around just one thread of the warp on each side of the diamond center.  This knot is called a Turkish knot.  The other type is knotted sideways around the three warp threads right in the middle of the diamond.  If you have both types of knots in the same row, you put the knots that are not to be shown on the top of the diamonds. 

On the top example, the knots are not visible on the smooth side; on the bottom, the rya knots are visible as a design.

The smooth side of the rye is the right side, the side you see when the rye is placed on the bed.  But just the same, it is most important for the weaver to know exactly where and how to tie the pile knots because the pile knots form the pattern on the reverse side of the rye.  It was, and still is, important that the rye be decorative on both sides.  It is the geometric shapes which are repeated, and there are also squares, stripes and bands.

In this rye from the Voss Folkemuseum exhibit, you can see the pattern of knots on the smooth side, and the design on the pile side.

In Norway, weaving, as far as we know, has always been women’s work.  I think this is the reason why so little is written about weaving.  It has always been a part of the silent knowledge passed on from mother to daughter.

When it comes to ryer, this is the reason why we know so little about the phenomena of using two different types of knots in our district.  It occurs on the ryer that are about 100 years old, in just a small area.  Let us imagine that there was a farmer’s wife using her creativity in weaving.  She wanted to do something special and discovered that the knots could be tied in different ways.  One day women from some of the neighboring farms visited her, looked at her weaving, and picked up the idea.

Because I am familiar with Voss ryer it was an unexpected experience discovering that this was known in just this small area.   I know my great-grandmother made several of these, but unfortunately, I never met her.   When I started investigating ryer, both my grandmothers and my mother were dead too, so I had nobody in the family to ask.

The variety of design

All the ryer that I have seen in Voss and Hardanger are in diamond twill weave, although I know that elsewhere in Norway other weaving techniques are used.  And most of them have bright colors both in warp, weft, and nap.  

Bright colors shine in this rye from the Voss Folkemuseum exhibition.

On the back of the rye, knots are visible and add to the design.

Red and black seem to be a common color combination, though the oldest ones I have seen (from the beginning of the 1800s) are often just black and white, the natural colors from sheep’s wool.  But almost all colors were used, even pink and turquoise, bright blue and green.

This Voss rye from the Voss Folkemuseum exhibit includes wild pinks and blues.

The design is often a very intricate combination of nap and bottom or blanket, especially when some of the knots make patterns on both sides.  Then the nap is very often black in the middle with just a few spots of bright blue, green and yellow.  If there is a frame of the colors, then the warp is usually black with a few stripes on each side and the weft is red.

Older ryer have the nap in small squares 10 times 10 cm in red and black or orange and black.  Sometimes you can see that the weaver did not have enough yarn of the right color for the nap.  Then she had to dye more yarn, and she did not get quite the same shade.  So, half of the rye is green, and the other half is turquoise.  Still it is very beautiful to look at, and I guess the utility was the same.  The old ryer show a brilliant combination of beauty and utility.

Does this rye from the Voss folkemuseum illustrate a design choice or did the weaver run our of light orange yarn?

The textiles may have a few mistakes seen through our eyes today, but the mistakes did not reduce the qualities for their use.  I think that is good, because together with age they are part of the exotic and outstanding expressiveness which is rare in new textiles.

Inspiration for making new ryer

Do we need such textiles today?  And how can we use them?  Of course, we don’t need ryer today, when it comes to basic survival.  In our beds we have all kinds of duvets, blankets, sheets, and pillows. The fishermen along the Norwegian coast don’t have open boats anymore; they want a more comfortable life when they are out in their fishing boats. We hardly have any working horses left at all and we don’t put ryer on tractors. So, they are not necessities that our everyday life depends on.

But still, I think we need such textiles because:

  1. They tell us about our past,
  2. They tell us about using what you have of raw materials, and
  3. They tell us about not being afraid of working hard for a long time with a textile which is important to you.  

Certainly these ryer are large and required a large investment of time.

I have great respect for the women who made these intricate patterns by combining colors and techniques.  Why should we not have a rye in our bed?  When we find ryer as contemporary textiles they are mostly on the walls.

I guess some of you have read about another of our textile artists, Inger Anne Utvåg, in the Norwegian Textile Letter.  She also uses old båtryer (boat ryer) as inspiration for her new textiles, which are large ryer as wall hangings.  As such they have a powerful emanation.  When they change place from bed to wall, one may also change the material to be of a more exclusive kind. And suddenly they become a piece of art.  

I myself put in some silk in my ryer when I find that suitable. I’ve made several small ryer for babies.  You may wrap the babies in it, and when the baby grows and starts crawling this rye with its nap is a very interesting subject to investigate.

One of my dreams is to get a library with lots of good books and a cozy chair with a rye in it.  Perhaps, one day in the future I will have time to weave the rye.  

So, with these I consider myself making contemporary textiles, standing in a 200 to 300 year-old tradition.  But after visiting the Egyptian Museum in Cairo some weeks ago, I have to think in another way.  Among all the mummies and chests and sculptures I also found some linen fabric, dirty and dusty and partly in bits and pieces, all placed in showcases.

In one of them I discovered something that looked very much like a rye.  It was about 90 cm wide, 2 meters long, and quite worn out some places.  There I saw the bottom, which was tabby, and for each 16 or 17 mm there was a row of Turkish knots.  Where the floss still existed, it was about 6 or 7 cm long; both the bottom and the nap were linen. I don’t know anything about the use of this textile because there was no information except for the age, about 3000 years old.  So now I suddenly find myself in a 3,000 to 4,000 year-old tradition. That gives weaving of ryer, and weaving in general, a certain perspective.  

Why should we stop now?   I decided to end my lecture like this before I left Norway, and I was kind of pessimistic when thinking about the weaving back home.  But I want weaving so much to continue.  

And so, I arrive here in Decorah and meet all of you who are so enthusiastic and full of energy and busy weaving.  That you are very skilled I can see from the exhibit “Frisk og Flink”.  And what I hear of the study groups that you have in many places also gives me that impression.  So, you give me the energy to keep on back home.  Thank you.

Marta Kløve Juuhl taught weaving in the Norwegian Husflidsskole system for many years.  In recent years she has taught at Vesterheim Folk Art School. She also worked part-time at Østerøy museum, primarily with textiles, and taught many courses on using a warp weighted loom. She is co-author of a comprehensive book on the topic, The Warp-Weighted Loom. She currently works in her private studio.

Sharon Marquardt: A Blizzard in Rya

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“Birthday Blizzard” is Sharon Marquardt’s self-portrait in wool, inspired by the calendar aspect of the original Baldishol Tapestry. It is part of the upcoming exhibit at Norway House, The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles. The Baldishol Tapestry, woven in the 12th century, portrays figures for the months of April and May–but what was happening in January? If you live in central Minnesota, as Sharon does, the answer is snow. In January 2020 a blizzard dropped door-blocking snowdrifts, and the banks were so deep and compacted that she had to purchase a snowblower to plow her sidewalk to the road. 
 

Sharon Marquardt started weaving in the 1980s and taught weaving in Seattle before returning to her home state of Minnesota in the 1990s. Since then her focus has been on Scandinavian weaving techniques. She studied with master weaver Syvilla Bolson in Decorah, Iowa; has taken many courses at Vesterheim Folk Art School; and has studied weaving in Norway and Sweden.  
 
She called this weaving a “creative exercise,” which is an understatement. It’s really an amazing combination of techniques that come together into a charming portrait. 
 
The rya pile is knotted onto a twill threading. Sharon was using the technique she learned from Norwegian weaving instructor Marta Kløve Juuhl. In this type of Voss rya, the pile shows on one side, but the knots are completely hidden on the reverse side of the twill-woven base. (Read more about this weave structure in this article from the Norwegian Textile Letter, “Voss Ryer: Traditional Bedcover and Contemporary Art,” by Marta Kløve Juuhl, May 2006.) Here Sharon is sampling the background on her loom, woven at 20 ends per inch. 
 

In the tapestry, the 16/3 bleached linen warp is exposed in the background weave structure. With the weft of Rauma prydvev yarn, it gives an effect of drizzle in the sky. 

Sharon wrote about more of her experimentation: 

Other creative techniques I tried included combining rya with inlay. The two pair together well, but here, the basket weave tended to bury the inlay, which I applied with a tapestry needle in between knotting rows. I like the way it emphasized the bark. I further embellished some areas with embroidery stitches.

Also, notice how the diamonds in the pattern on the right-hand tree trunk make marvelous bark. 

Finally, look at the luxurious deep pile border, based on the Icelandic varafeldur, a traditional pile coverlet woven with pile from unspun locks. (See: “Varafeldur: An Icelandic Rya Reconstruction,” by Marta Kløve Juuhl, Norwegian Textile Letter, November 2013.) Sharon used locks from a Lincoln sheep, bought from Joana Friesz in New Salem, North Dakota. 

The exhibit at Norway House opens on June 26. Follow along on the web page for the exhibit, “The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Tapestry, to learn of virtual events surrounding the exhibit. 

 

 

Toni Easterson: The Me Too Movement and Women on Horses

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By Robbie LaFleur 

Each fiber artist in the upcoming exhibit, The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Tapestry, looked at this work from the 12th century through a modern and personal lens. Some aspect of the design elements, the materials, the colors, or the image, became the hook for a new work. For Toni Easterson, a graphic designer and fiber artist from Northfield, Minnesota, the man on a horse representing the month of May was captivating. “I immediately wanted to include a woman in my design, a woman on a horse.” 

She wanted her piece to reflect her values as a social and environmental activist. She wrote, 

I wanted to use scraps and pieces of work done by other women’s hands, old doilies etc. that received little or no respect for their craftsmanship, pieces of fabric that were a part of old dresses and blouses. I have become a repository of fiber things from friends getting rid of their mother-in-laws’ tablecloths, etc. As I approach my work with environmental concerns, I seek to recycle, upcycle and save things from the trash. Old tie-dyed material is used; even the cheek of the rider contains a tiny embroidered rose from a decades-old handkerchief made by a grandmother. I also wanted to turn Then fiber work into Now fiber work. In the right hand bottom corner is quietly embroidered “Me Too” [jeg også] in Norwegian.

More Horses and Protest

 
Toni Easterson was not the only person to place a woman on a horse in her piece for the Norway House exhibit. The title of Sally Reckert’s tapestry suggests an uneasiness felt by many: “Children March into an Unknown Future.”
 

“Children March into an Unknown Future,” (H” x W”): 75cm x 100cm; 29.5″ x 39″

 

Sally has been following the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder from England, and she passed along another wonderful image of a woman on a horse, from an article in the San Francisco Chronicle, “The woman who rode her horse through an Oakland protest wants to see more people of color in a white world.”

 

The newspaper caption: Noble rides her horse, Dapper Dan, through the streets of downtown Oakland at the start of a protest honoring George Floyd. “There is no image bigger than a black woman on a large horse,” Noble said. “This is the image we would like to see portrayed in our community.”

This exhibit is unfolding during a tumultuous time of pandemic and now protest. Sally Reckert’s piece was originally intended as a march to combat climate change, but in the end became her grandchildren marching into an unknown future. And Toni Easterson wrote, 

I was sewing to the ME TOO movement, but it is a protest piece and works any way one wants. Something powerful about a woman on a horse I think. Such difficult times. I say “yeah and go for it,” to the woman leading the march in California!
 
The exhibit at Norway House opens on June 26. Follow along on the web page for the exhibit, “The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Tapestry, to learn of virtual events surrounding the exhibit. 

 

 

Katherine Buenger

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By Robbie LaFleur

Katherine Buenger is a weaver and teacher known for her wide-ranging fiber talents. She can tame a 15-shaft computerized loom, but also loves weaving on rigid heddle looms, simple portable frame looms. She mastered spinning of “regular” fibers like wool and silk, and then moved on to create yarn from the Yellow Pages, coffee filters, computer tapes and other non-traditional materials. She learned to make Sami-inspired jewelry using tin thread, and has now taught the technique to hundreds of students. She’s a fun teacher; she is not afraid to break the rules and try something new, and encourages others to do the same.

Last summer Katherine dipped into yet another technique, and warped her small rigid heddle loom to weave some small birds in tapestry. It wasn’t going well; she was stymied by a red cardinal. Just then the Call for Art was published for the Baldishol exhibit. Katherine wrote,

I was intrigued. I cut off the sad little bird and decided to use the remaining warp to weave a rya piece for the exhibit. This decision was made knowing that I had never woven a whole piece in rya. I focused on colors and the clusters surrounding the horseman. Using a variety of yarns from my stash of wools, silk blends and cotton I went to work.

Perhaps that’s a starry night behind the horseman? Katherine titled her piece “Pleiades” (Seven Sisters). 

Katherine has a degree in studio art from Macalester College and has been contributing her talents to the Weavers Guild of Minnesota for two decades, serving on the board of directors and importantly, on the Education Committee. 

After finishing her Baldishol rya, Katherine went back to work on her complex Dobby computerized loom. There is no doubt that when she decides to go back to a tapestry cardinal, she’ll master that too. 

Check out more of Katherine’s work at buengerstudios.com.