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“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  I filled each of our “months” with personal and historical references, and things that have inspired us.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.

 

Norwegian Folk Art: The Migration of a Tradition (Introduction)

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By Robbie LaFleur

Norwegian Folk Art: The Migration of a Tradition was an exhibition curated by Marion Nelson from Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum, in collaboration with the Museum of American Folk Art in New York City and the Norwegian Folk Museum in Oslo.  The exhibition of 180 objects was a collection of folk art either made in Norway, brought to America from Norway by immigrants, made by immigrants in America or created by contemporary artists in the Norwegian folk art tradition. The exhibition opened at the Museum of American Folk Art in New York in September of 1995. King Harald and Queen Sonja of Norway attended the opening, part of their first state visit to the U.S. A lavishly illustrated book with several invited essays was published in conjunction with the exhibit.

The exhibit then traveled for two years to The State Historical Society of North Dakota in Bismark, the Minnesota Museum of American Art in St Paul, the Nordic Heritage Museum in Seattle and ended at the Norwegian Folk Museum in Oslo.  

The exhibition included a wide span of folk art types—rosemaling (traditional Norwegian rose painting, wood carving. Textiles were well-represented, with beautiful examples of historical weaving and contemporary pieces to show how the tradition continued in the United States. Since most readers of the Norwegian Textile Letter didn’t attend the exhibition, and probably not many have seen the book, we obtained permission to reprint the photographic sections on geometric weaving and tapestry weaving, and the essay on folk dress by Carol Colburn. 

Geometric Textiles of the 18th and 19th Centuries

See the 11-page beautifully-illustrated section here. https://norwegiantextileletter.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/migration-geometric.pdf

Here is a bit more background about two of the weavers who wove modern pieces for the exhibit. 

Rutevev, a square-weave coverlet, by Jan Mostrom

Jan Mostrom wrote that she was happy to be chosen as one of the contemporary weavers.

It was a rutevev weaving inspired by a coverlet I saw at Little Norway near my home town in Wisconsin.  It is a nine cross pattern which I combined with a diamond made of many diagonal lines and a cross in the center.  I chose Norwegian yarns that I imagined were close to rather bright natural dyed colors in red, blue, green, gold and natural white.  The design had many color changes and many pattern rows had over 50 butterflies. It would take a generous hour to weave half an inch.  The main geometric pattern was bordered by pick and pick stripes and lightning designs.  I remember listening to many audio books as I wove in the rhythm of interlocked blocks.

It was very exciting for me to go to New York City for the first time and to be going to an opening of a show that included a piece of my work. The event was fun and exciting and all of the artists were invited to a dinner at a nearby restaurant after the opening. 

When the exhibition was in St Paul for three months, the Scandinavian Weavers Study Group set up a loom to weave krokbragd at the museum.  We would demonstrate every Sunday.  I have happy memories of several afternoons weaving and talking with people visiting the exhibit. 

Skillbragd coverlet by Liv Bugge

Liv Bugge, born in Norway, and now living in Norway again, had a beautiful skillbragd weaving in the exhibit. Liv has been interested in folk art, including for dancing, embroidery, and knitting, since she was a teen. She first learned to weave at teacher’s college in Oslo. When she moved to Wisconsin for several years, she continued her weaving exploration. She wrote,

Studying and reading about different Norwegian techniques was extremely important because I was so far away from home and yet surrounded by so much Norwegian heritage.”

“When we were living in the US I had plenty of time to weave, and I found this “skillbragd” technique very interesting.  I studied a lot of books and also old magazines from Norsk Husflid, so I’m more or less self taught in this technique while living in Wisconsin. Everything Norwegian got very important to me then, which I’m sure was the case for many of the immigrants.”

Liv wove several hangings in the traditional skillbragd technique.

Liv and her husband moved back to Norway, where she studied weaving again for a year, before returning to elementary school teaching for 15 years. “I now have a very nice studio with a stunning view of the mountains including Mount Gausta,” Liv reported. The skillbragd hanging from the exhibition still hangs in her office. 

See also these articles: Migration of a Tradition: Tapestry Images and Migration of a Tradition: Norwegian Folk Dress in America.

RETRO REPRINTS–A New Occasional Series in the Norwegian Textile Letter

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By Robbie LaFleur

RETRO REPRINTS–A New Occasional Series

For its first two decades, the Norwegian Textile Letter was published only in print. The readership was loyal; there were nearly 300 subscribers before it became a digital publication in 2013.

It’s safe to say that most of the 1100+ current readers who are notified of each new issue haven’t read the early issues, so we are beginning an occasional series that reprints articles from the first decade (1995-2005). The new digital versions will include color photos, as opposed to the grainy black-and-white images of the early photocopied newsletters. The reprints will include updated and new information. Two articles from Volume 1, No. 2, January 1995, are included in this issue. An in-depth article by Lila Nelson, “The Ruteaklaer Tradition in Norway,” is enhanced with many photos. “For the Loom,” a short piece on a krokbragd technique, had no photos in the original. Now the technique is illustrated with photos of a beautiful hanging woven by Jan Mostrom. 

National Exhibition of Folk Art in the Norwegian Tradition

Due to the pandemic, the annual National Exhibition of Folk Art in the Norwegian Tradition will not be held at Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum this year.  (Sad news!) Normally, the August issue of the Norwegian Textile Letter includes wonderful photos of the entries. 

A short “Congratulations” paragraph in the September 1995 issue sparked an idea for a substitute. 1995 marked the 14th year of the National Exhibition of Weaving in the Norwegian Tradition. I will try to gather photos of pieces that were entered in the early years. 

In this paragraph, John Skare is congratulated for winning “Best of Show” with his “Segalstad #1 coat/hanging. 

“Segalstad #1” The material is primarily wool, but the collar includes a mohair blend. The sleeves and body were woven on one warp, and the collar on a separate warp. 

Segalstad #1 became part of a series, including a commissioned piece. The client came all the way from San Francisco to visit Nordic Fest. He saw John’s piece and after discussion, commissioned him to make a similar coat, but with a sash/belt in case he wanted to wear it. 

You can look forward to seeing more of John Skare’s entries from the National Exhibition early years in the next issue of the newsletter. And if any readers of the newsletter contributed to the exhibit before 1996, and have photos, please contact me! 

A Fun Fact from the First Year of the Norwegian Textile Letter

The Norwegian Textile Letter had a different name for the first year, the Norwegian Breakfast Club Newsletter. For many years, members gathered at Convergence, a national weaving conference–at breakfast. But within the first year, the members opted to change the name. From the September 1995 issue:

The Norwegian Breakfast Club met in July, 1995, in Prince George, British Columbia, during Frontiers of Fibre, the biennial conference of the Association of Northwest Weavers Guilds. That’s when the name changed to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Janet Meany wrote:

“Karen Casselman recommended that the name be changed so that it could more accurately convey the nature of the contents rather than appear as a collection of good Norwegian lefse recipes!”

 

 

Migration of a Tradition: Tapestry Images

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Norwegian Folk Art: The Migration of a Tradition (Abbeville Press, 1995) features beautiful photos of Norwegian billedvev, or tapestry. The section is available in pdf format here: “Reflections of the Renaissance: The Tapestry Technique and Picture Weaving.”

Several historical tapestries were included in the book and the exhibit it celebrated. Also, two modern pieces reflected Norwegian billedvev tradition: a tapestry by Nancy Jackson and a quilt by Helen Kelly. 

Nancy Jackson, “The Battle of the Horse and Bull”

When Marion Nelson asked Nancy Jackson if her tapestry, “The Battle of the Horse and Bull,” could be included in the traveling exhibition, she felt very honored. He told her he thought her tapestry was an important link between the old Norwegian picture tapestries and the newer Norwegian tapestry images. It was also meaningful because Marion’s wife Lila was important to Nancy’s development as an artist. Nancy wrote, “I always respected Marion and Lila so much, and consider Lila to be the first person who opened my eyes to tapestry as a serious weaving expression. She understood me and directed me through the many letters we wrote back and forth after she taught my first tapestry weaving class in the late 1970s.”

Nancy Jackson, “Battle of the Horse & Bull.” 41-inches x 58-inches. Materials: Wool on cotton warp. Photo: Charlie Langton of Vesterheim Museum.

Nancy Jackson, “Saint Olav (Olaf) King of Norway.” 59.5″ x 27″, handwoven tapestry, wool weft & cotton warp. All rights reserved.

While Nancy never saw the show in person, it led to a marvelous new tapestry. Nancy’s Norwegian friends saw the show in Oslo, completely by chance, and were excited when they found “The Battle of the Horse and the Bull” by their friend back in the U.S. Later Nancy wove a commissioned tapestry for the couple, a five-foot-high “King Olav,” inspired by Norwegian billedvev tradition. 

Nancy Jackson continued to have a distinguished career as a tapestry artist and icon painter. In 2003-2004 Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum held an exhibit of Nancy’s work: Incarnations: A Nancy Jackson Retrospective 1980-2003. “The Battle of the Horse and Bull” was featured prominently, along with the working documents, including the life-sized cartoon and woven color samples.

See more of Nancy Jackson’s work at Timshel Tapestry and Iconography Studio. 

 

 

 

Helen Kelley, “Renaissance”

Photo: Jason Onerheim, Minnesota Historical Society

Helen Kelly (1927-2008), a noted quilter from Minneapolis, Minnesota, paid homage to an old Norwegian billedvev design in “Renaissance.” Helen and her quilt were featured in the Norwegian Textile Letter in August, 2019.  See: ““Under the Skin of Those Old Weavers”: Helen Kelley’s ‘Renaissance’ Quilt” By Lisa Anne Bauch. 

The quilt is now in the collection of the Minnesota Historical Society.

See also these articles: Norwegian Folk Art: The Migration of a Tradition (Introduction) and Migration of a Tradition: Norwegian Folk Dress in America

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amy Axen: The Baldishol Bandana

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By Robbie LaFleur  

Amy Axen, from Stony Creek, New York, was inspired by the images and designs in the Baldishol Tapestry to create her 21st-century “Baldishol Bandana,” both a decorative and functional piece. She studied the flora and fauna, and the geometric and organic shapes, in the original tapestry. She parsed the design elements and the story told in the images to create her own layered interpretation and homage. She began with careful study of the symbols in the Baldishol Tapestry.

She came up with came up with a complex, layered design and prepared both hand-carved wood blocks and hand-cut pochoir stencils for her textile printing.

Amy wrote in her application, “Each iconic image…will be inspired by those utilized in this treasured, historic, Norwegian antecedent.”

She mimicked the colors of the original tapestry with several botanical inks and dyes, including ochres harvested on a recent drive from San Diego, California, to the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York.

With color and symbols she added layers of meaning. 

The finished piece: 

 

Amy has a broad art education and work background. She majored in Fine Art for both her undergraduate and graduate degrees, worked in the art departments of two magazine publishing companies and an advertising agency, and finished her formal career with over two decades as an art educator in public and private schools. She is skilled in several media, and especially enjoys drawing, painting, print and book making, ceramics, jewelry, puppetry, and animation. And fiber! Amy remembers two special textile mentors. She remains grateful to her junior high school Home Economics teacher who taught her to pin, cut, sew and iron a garment made from a paper pattern. Later, she felt blessed to be introduced to both dyeing and and the beauty of tapestry weaving by her professor, Margaret Kilbuck Johansen (1921-2004). 

Amy Axen pulled together her Baldishol design into layers of meaning, a joyful re-assemblage of symbols from the Medieval tapestry, using skills from her rich and varied career.  And despite the current challenges and constraints of the pandemic, she wrote, “Now, in “retirement,” each day I awaken to continue to create and I love every moment of it, just as I always have.”

During the summer of 2020, follow along with stories of the artists and several virtual experiences during the Norway House exhibit, The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles.

 

Jonna Gjevre: Baldishol Birds to Sheep

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By Robbie LaFleur

The artists in the upcoming exhibition, “The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles,” have remarkably varied responses to the inspirational tapestry. They have taken elements of design, color, materials, and story into their own fiber art practices.

Jonna Gjevre pulled in diverse Scandinavian references when planning her Baldishol piece, “An Eye on the Past.” Four birds appear in the original tapestry: three facing forward, and one back. In Jonna’s cushion cover, she uses Norwegian stranded knitting technique to depict four sheep; again, three facing forward, and one turned away. The horned sheep designs are adapted from traditional Icelandic lopapeysa designs. The groups of colored dots around the sheep reference the background in the tapestry. She used natural dyes made from madder, indigo, chamisa, and cota (Navajo tea), echoing the historic dyes used in the tapestry.

Studying the Norwegian tapestry led Jonna to more Norwegian research. Tapestry designs in Gerhard Munthe: Norwegian Pioneer of Modernism sparked background ideas.  She was looking at a collection of mitten patterns from Selbu—selbuvotter—and found a design that echos the wave-like border of the Baldishol. 

Though she grew up in Minnesota, her current home in New Mexico has a strong influence on her work in fiber. The Baldishol and tapestries woven in Medieval Norway used lustrous yarn spun from indigenous spelsau sheep. The breed became nearly extinct, but was revived through conservation efforts. The yarn Jonna used in “Eye on the Past,” 100% Navajo-Churro wool from northern New Mexico, came from an old sheep variety, too. She wrote,  

Having grown up on a sheep farm in northern Minnesota, I’ve long had an interest in the societal significance of wool production and textile arts. In this piece, I’m using naturally dyed wool from Navajo-Churro sheep. Due to culturally imperialistic government interference between 1860 and 1930, this rare, desert-hardy breed was slaughtered in great numbers and nearly rendered extinct. Through the efforts of a few dedicated Diné (Navajo) shepherds and other conservationists, these sheep—deeply significant to Native American communities in the southwest—were saved. The Navajo-Churro Sheep Association was formed in 1986, its aim to protect this rare breed from becoming a memory. 

During her research, Jonna turned up a reference to the Baldishol in another medium, Norwegian postage stamps.

Jonna’s lifelong passion for fiber arts started on a sheep farm in Minnesota, and grew to include a passion for words. With a PhD from the University of Wisconsin, she has taught creative writing in Scotland and film studies in the United States. She wrote a textile-themed novel, Arcanos Unraveled. Perhaps Jonna could take up another homage to the Baldishol Tapestry? A Medieval knight on a dappled horse–there could be a novel there! 

Website: jonnagjevre.com