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A Special Notice: Beautiful Fall in New England and a Chance to See Frida Hansen’s Southward Tapestry

By Robbie LaFleur

East Coast friends! Please join me for a wonderful opportunity to view Frida Hansen’s monumental 1903 tapestry, Sørover [Southward], at Peter Pap Oriental Rugs in Dublin, New Hampshire. An exhibition and sale of rugs from private collections will be held at the gallery this coming weekend, with opening festivities (including a jazz band!) on Friday, September 29th. The show is timed for peak leaf season, a perfect time to visit Peter Pap’s extensive collections, only an hour and a half from Boston.

Frida Hansen’s tapestry will be a highlight. As Peter Pap wrote in his newsletter,

Many of you already know the amazing story of my discovery of the monumental tapestry by Norwegian artist Frida Hansen entitled Sørover in the collection of the late David McInnis. Now it is back in our Dublin, NH, gallery after hanging at LACMA and the Milwaukee Art Museum in the exhibition Scandinavian Design in America: 1890 to 1980. This exhibition originated in Oslo, Norway and my discovery hadn’t been made at the time of printing of the catalogue so they devoted a full page with a black and white photo from 1925!

Frida Hansen, Sørover [Southward], 1903

I will hold a lecture on Frida Hansen and the wonderful tapestry of swimming swans and maidens on Saturday at 4pm. The Norse mythology image is of swans and maidens sailing southward after bringing summer to the northern lands. My stories will focus on what happened after the swans “swam” to America – exhibitions in New York and around the country, its disappearance, and rediscovery. The best part of attending this lecture will be the opportunity afterwards to ask questions and walk right up to the tapestry to understand its beauty and structure.

Reservations are not needed, but I’d love to know if you are coming. (lafleur1801@me.com) You can review the articles on Frida Hansen and the rediscovered tapestry here: norwegiantextileletter.com/sorover/

In addition to the lecture, I will hold an Instagram Live session at 2 pm on Saturday, September 30, with Southward as the special guest. Please ask questions about the tapestry, request to see a close-up of any sections of the image (except those I can’t reach ten feet up on the wall), and share your comments and observations.

And the Rugs!

Peter Pap will be offering rugs from the collections of noted collectors. Featured will be the remainder of the late Dr. Charles Whitfield’s collection, including his exceptional group of Baluch rugs. Rugs and classical fragments from the collection of the late Dirck Bass of Guernville, California are included. Rugs from the collection of Thomas Edwards of Rhonert Park, California, are another outstanding addition to this exhibition. All these the offerings are new to the market. Some of these rugs were in a landmark exhibition called “Tribal Visions” that took place in Marin County, California, in 1980.

Rugs in the show will be featured on Peter Pap’s website, peterpap.com, and on his Instagram feed, @peterpaprugs, on the days preceding the show.

It would be wonderful to see you here next weekend, at this gorgeous gallery, but with even prettier leaves surrounding it.

Weaving Light and Meaning: A Conversation with Artist Soile Hovila

By Mandy Pedigo

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

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

Hovila installation view

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

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

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

hovel world of contrasts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have you worked in other art areas?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

world of contrasts II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

April 2023

Mendable: An Exhibit and Environmental Investigation

Norske Kunsthåndverkere (The Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts, referred to as NK) is a membership organization working to promote and support Norwegian contemporary craft artists nationally and internationally.

NK has a current membership of more than 1000 professional artists and makers in a range of media from all of Norway. The group arranges an annual exhibit, the Arsutstillingen;  sponsors thematic exhibits around Norway; publishes a magazine, Kunsthåndverk; administers art grants; and works to influence art policies.

NK runs two galleries – Format  in Oslo and KRAFT  in Bergen. Another arm is Norwegian Crafts, a non-profit organization funded by the Norwegian Ministry of Culture and Equality and the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) that aims to strengthen the international position of contemporary crafts from Norway.

NK arranges thematic exhibits in various areas of Norway, and the themes are chosen by one of the seven regions that are part of the association. In 2020 the Norske Kunsthåndverkere regional group in Viken worked with NK on the juried exhibit “MENDABLE—Climate and Environment in Today’s Art Practice.” The jury and project group included Margrethe Loe Elde, Barbro Hernes, Svein Ove Kirkhorn and the project leader Ann Kristin Aas. 16 artists were chosen for the exhibit at the House of Foundation in Moss, August 29-October 11, 2020.

[Editors note: NK includes artists working in a variety of media. For the Norwegian Textile Letter, we focus on the artists working in fiber-related materials. You can see the full list of artists here. You can watch a Facebook video of many of the artists here. The following general description and the entries about the fiber artists are taken from the NK website.]

The Mendable Exhibit, 2020

We posed the question of how artists take a position on climate and environmental questions in today’s material-based art. We wanted to know about how the choice of materials, technique, content and expression in art were affected by thoughts of, or consideration of the environment. In the exhibition MENDABLE, we wanted to investigate how environmental activism is present in fine craft, and how the artists reflect on creating works of art in a world that is already full of things.

The title MENDABLE indicates something that can be repaired, both in a physical sense, but also as repair of a relationship or improvement of a situation. The artists in the exhibit seek relevant ways to express their unease with the climate situation through their work. They seek to help us find deeper understanding and insight through varying forms of expression and artistic methods. In this lies a hope that something can be done about the situation, that it is possible to repair something destroyed, and that it is possible to change and improve our way of living in the world. 

The artists pose questions around overproduction, overconsumption, and the exploitation of natural resources. What are the consequences for nature, and for us? Several of the artists use a working process that is close to nature to explore these questions. Many gather the raw materials themselves, like clay, wood, resin, and plants, directly from nature. Recycling and manual work are strong aspects of the artists’ works. Reworking found materials, building step by step, sewing stitch by stitch, repairing, unraveling, whittling, and weaving create room for reflection and new realizations—a method to find a deeper understanding of nature and the world around us. 

Eline Medbøe   |  I FIND SHELTER IN OUR REMAINS

It is strange that something that is so woven into our daily lives and our personalities is something that, at the same time, we respect so little. We throw away enormous amounts of completely usable clothing every year. Clothes are consumer products where the prices are out of line with the human and environmental resources used to produce them. By using recycled materials like cast-off clothing in my work I try to comment on us and the times in which we live. I sew my works with repetitive hand stitches  and I am concerned with the actions I take while I transform the textiles. There is something ruthless and brutal in sewing into a skirt, a pretty piece of clothing that someone has worn next to their skin. I hope the viewers of my work will become more conscious of their own relationship to clothing, and the value of the materials we toss away so easily. 

Eline Medbøe, ” I Find Shelter in our Remains.” Source: NK website: https://norskekunsthandverkere.no/users/eline-medboe. See the site for additional photos.

www.elinem.no
Instagram: @elinemed
Video: “Interview with Elina Medbøe

Kristina D. Aas  |   UNWEAVING

With my “Unweaving” project, I reflect on the production of art at a time we are swimming in products. We don’t understand how things are made, what they are made of, who makes them, nor where the makers are. When these layers of knowledge are erased, one begins to ask questions about the meaning of making art or crafts. I am trying to answer the question for myself, and in dialog with the public by the dismantling of work I have used several months to create. 

Photo: Karina Nøkleby Presttun

Source: Kristina Austi website: https://austikristina.com/upcoming-exhibitions/2020/8/29/mendable

https://austikristina.com [Editor’s note: The artist’s name is now Kristina Austi.]
Instagram: @austikristina

Karina Presttun Nøkleby   |   RUBIN

I began to investigate wood shavings as a possible method to stiffen textiles because a friend who creates frames of recycled materials had a sack of shavings. Great, I thought. Free, locally produced and environmentally friendly. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work out as I intended, but worked out as something completely different. I think this happens continuously; in attempting to do something “a little more climate-friendly,” possibilities pop up, disguised as restrictions.

Rubin

“Rubin,” by Karina Presttun Nøkleby. Photo: Eivind Senneset. More photos are on the artist’s website: http://www.karinapresttun.no/portfolio_page/rubin-2019/

http://www.karinapresttun.no/contact/

Kristin Sæterdal   |   SPACE DEBRIS

“Space junk is waste and discarded or lost objects from human activity in space. Most are in orbit around the Earth in or close to the original orbit they were put in.” Wikipedia. The European Space Agency ESA monitors 20,000 objects that, among other things, monitor global warming and other environmental issues. The agency sends out alerts to satellites so they can be maneuvered manually to avoid collisions. In the event of a collision, even a small nut can cause major damage.

“Space Debris” by Kristin Sæterdal. Source: Mendable exhibition catalog.

kristinsæterdal.com
Instagram: @tinsapus
Video on the weaving of Space Debris

These are only a few of the talented artists working in textiles that are part of Norske Kunsthåndverkere. From this page listing all the artists, you can choose among materials used, including tekstil. There are other catalogs to download from thematic exhibits and the annual exhibition, Årsutstillingen, on the NK website page, “Fagstoff.” Many are in English.

March 2023

To Reach the top of a Mountain: Ann Cathrin November Høibo

By Robbie LaFleur 

Ann Cathrin November Hoibø, “Dreams Ahead”

Norway has an excellent program for placing art in public spaces, KORO. Recently, Ann Cathrin November Hoibø was commissioned to weave a large tapestry for the Norwegian Embassy in Washington D.C. Dreams Ahead is Hoibø’s reflection of nature in Norway.

The artist and her process were described in an interview published on the KORO site, “To Reach the Top of a Mountain.” Hoibø was influenced by the scale of the weaving, and working on an enormous loom that was new to her. She couldn’t help but react to the politics of the day and the pandemic that changed all our lives. Weavers enjoy reading about process, and this essay is rich in detail. Reading some of my favorite excerpts will whet your appetite to read the full essay. 

[From the introduction] Naturally gray wool forms the background of the abstract tapestry – a coarse, uneven surface that can be experienced almost as a gray wall, with large fields of unbleached white and charcoal gray pressing in from the sides, not unlike Norwegian skerries in springtime, when these small rocky islands are sprinkled with areas of snow that contrast with the dark rocks…The tapestry is without doubt the largest November Høibo has ever woven, measuring 216 in. high by 119 in. wide (5.5 x 3 m.). She made the work by hand all by herself, without any help from assistants – a quest that took her seven months of daily labor at the loom. The artist also had to rent a larger studio in order to produce on such a large scale.

Following Norwegian tradition, Hoibø used a plain fork as a beater. She explained, “It’s a simple tool and easy to get hold of. I take whatever fork I can find. It’s just important that it’s not too heavy. Also, I need to have a lot of them, because I leave them all over the place. At lunchtime, the other people who have studios in this building can seldom find a fork.”

Anne Cathrin November Høibo, “Dreams Ahead” (detail)

When you weave such a large tapestry, whole seasons go by. Hoibø describes shifting life outside her loom during the creation of Dreams Ahead. “The tapestry takes in life. I respond to my environment – the seasons, the light, and my shifting moods. There are many emotions lying in these threads. Some days it’s incredibly good just to sit here and work, while other days it’s very lonely and frustrating and boring. It feels different to work on this after Christmas and after the U.S. election. It was quite draining in late autumn, when everything was dark, gloomy, and somehow very chaotic – it’s reflected in the dark colors at the top of the tapestry. Now the colors are brighter but cooler. We haven’t had this kind of white winter here for many years, with crisp snow, an unchanging blue sky, and a bracing breeze. The snow has made its way into the tapestry and it’s also possible to see the clear sky and colors. And soon it will get warmer…”

Hoibø relates interesting details about weaving on such a large scale. “This tapestry is so vast that it forces me to work in a different style. Previously, I worked more hectically, but these days I allow myself to use a whole day to roll up the tapestry onto the cloth beam, and to tie and untie all the knots for the weights one by one. And I tell myself that this is enough for today, so I keep my strength to continue again tomorrow. It’s a grown-up approach; it feels healthier.”

Dreams Ahead was woven on a loom with history, one that was used in the well-known tapestry workshop run by Else Halling in the middle of the 20th century, A/S Norsk Billedvev (A/S Norwegian Tapestry). When the essay was published in book form, it included more information on the loom, reprinted here with permission. Hoibø borrowed the loom from Per Hoelfeldt Lund, who wrote about its history. It’s interesting that Hoibø’s 21rst century tapestry is woven on the same loom used to weave reproductions of Renaissance-era historical Norwegian tapestries. 

It is a loom designed and built for the workshop A/S Norsk Billedvev and the workshop’s manager Else Halling. [From t]he Norwegian Museum of Decorative Arts and Design, where the director Thor B. Kielland, in the 1940s, established a workshop on the top floor of the museum building. 

Here reproductions were woven of our oldest textile treasures, and [tapestries were woven from] new cartoons by our leading artists for the decoration of Oslo City Hall and other commissions right up until the 1960s, when the workshop was closed down and Else Halling was awarded the King’s Medal of Merit for her outstanding work. 

When the workshop was to be emptied in 1967, my mother, Lily Hoelfeldt Lund, was asked if she could take care of the largest loom, in view of her links with the handweaving community and her production of yarn spun from the wool of spelsau sheep. I was studying in Oslo, and was dispatched to dismantle the loom, and I loaded it into Fuhr’s truck, which had delivered wine to the Wine Monopoly and otherwise would have driven empty to Grimstad. 

After several years in storage, we had extended our main building, so that we had a room of 645 sq.ft. (60 sq.m.) on the upper floor with plenty of space for the loom, which was put into use, initially for several years by my mother. 

Among other things, she wove a replica of Leonardo’s Last Supper, which was her gift to Eide Church following its restoration. Wenche, my wife, wove a number of exciting tapestries in the following years. 

And now we are lending it to the artist Ann Cathrin November Hoibø in connection with her commission for Norway’s new embassy in Washington, D.C. Source: Per Hoelfeldt Lund, 21 September 2020 

Ann Cathrin November Hoibø should be commended for her striking tapestry and her successful commission. And her interview is inspiring for tapestry weavers—to learn about her thoughts and weaving decisions while Dreams Ahead was underway. 

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

Impressionism in Tapestry: Translating Thoughts and Feelings with Thread

By Aino Kajaniemi

Aino Kajaniemi is an artist from Jyväskylä, Finland. Her bold and dramatic tapestries are often likened to sketching or a form of line etching with fibers. She graduated from the University of Art and Design in Helsinki, and her works have been shown in solo and collective shows throughout Europe. She was Finnish Artist of the Year in 2010.

PREFACE

Although Finland is renowned for woven textile traditions dating back centuries – including double weave and rya (knotted pile) – tapestry weaving in Finland has a much shorter history. It was not until the 1900 World Exhibition in Paris that tapestry weaving began to emerge in Finland. Research confirms that the only older historical tapestries found in Finland were actually Belgian and are now held in Turku Castle.

The 1900 World Exhibition marked an important breakthrough for Finnish textiles. Although Finland was still a part of Russia, Finnish weavers had their own pavilion, designed by noted architect Eliel Saarinen. The Finnish Pavilion provided important recognition to a country that dreamed of independence; that came in 1918. Akseli Gallen-Kallela, a famous Finnish painter, designed the textiles for the Finnish Pavilion. In his travels around Europe, he saw for the first time the tapestries of France and Italy. He returned to Finland and sent weavers from Friends of Finnish Handicraft to Norway to study tapestry weaving. In 1900, the first known Finnish tapestry was woven, in Art Nouveau style, ”Chickens from the Forest and Pine Saplings.”

“Chickens from Forest and Pine Saplings (detail),” 1900.

IMPRESSIONS IN TAPESTRY

Tapestry weaving has never been as popular in Finland as have other forms of weaving. I am part of a group of tapestry- focused artists that includes Inka Kivalo, Ariadna Donner, and Soili Hovila. We had a group exhibition at the Craft Museum of Finland in Jyväskylä in 2020, and will have an additional exhibition in Rovaniemi Art Museum in 2024.

I have woven tapestries for forty years. I attended weaving school for two years, and the experience provided a good career basis. As the saying goes, after you master the technique, you can forget it. I then studied at the University of Art and Design in Helsinki and graduated as a textile artist in 1983. At the time of my final examination, I showed my sketches to my teacher, and she said, “The only way to weave these is with tapestry.” She decided that the warp should be thin, strong, twisted linen at six ends per centimeter. When the loom was ready, she left me alone. I had to create the weaving myself.

I learned there are many rules in traditional tapestry weaving; you have to hide the warp, it is not allowed to wrap different threads together, or to mix threads. The weaving line must be horizontal. I heard all of this information later; nobody really taught me how to weave tapestry, and I am happy about that. My weaving is not traditional tapestry weaving. I think it can be described as impressionism in tapestry. I don’t know or care about rules but want to weave freely and quickly.

Aino Kajaniemi, “Growing,” 2019.

At the beginning of my career, I thought that an artist must learn to handle strong feelings and embrace the whole world in her artwork. I began to work as a full-time artist in 1990. My parents died and my second child was born that same year; my start as an artist happened when my life was affected by extreme opposites: birth and death. I had moved to my childhood home to take care of my parents and my family stayed there after they died.

My textiles are my way of thinking. I want to transform my thoughts and ideas into something concrete, so that I can understand them. In all art, you need your senses— sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch. The sense of touch has special richness in textile art. It is said that the sense of touch is the most emotional sense for humans. Textiles bring up memories through touch, through our skin.

When I was young, I had a lot of feelings inside me. I spent all of my energy working out my emotional life in my tapestries. The world of black and white seemed simpler, I didn’t want to add more emotion through colors. As I grew older, I could concentrate more on life outside me. Gradually, color appeared in my tapestries. When I use strong colors, I don’t want to tell a story in the work; color in itself includes messages. I feel that colors need a bigger space because they are full of energy. Adding color has brought more joy and light to my tapestries and to my life.

Aino Kajaniemi, “I’ll Take It,” 2022.

Weaving liturgical textiles also taught me to use colors. In the Evangelic Lutheran Church, we use five or six colors in church textiles: white, red, green, violet, black, and sometimes blue. I have woven liturgical textiles for seven churches and two chapels. Six of those were done with my tapestry technique.

It is good that we have many time concepts; we have the past and future, we have seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years. When I weave, I have to be present, but at same time I can be on another level—I can look back or I can plan new works. If your life is sad at that moment, you can move your mind to the future or the past. If your future or past scares you, it is better to concentrate on the present.

I work alone for many hours per day and yet a single second can be very important. Weaving is
a form of discovery; even though I have practiced this technique almost 40 years, I’m not in complete control of the threads. Chance has its role—for example when I weave a face, threads may position themselves so that a smile turns into sorrow, or anger becomes joy. One thread can change happiness to sadness.

Aino Kajaniemi, “Understanding,” 2019.

I often use textiles as symbols, such as laces, pleats, dresses, collars, socks, shoes, gloves, belt, hats, or scarves. All of these are personal, intimate items that evoke common memories. People see what they want to see in my tapestries. Once I spoke at an exhibition and said that I don’t handle erotica in my tapestries. That evening a visitor, a man, told me that my works are full of erotica!

I create finished sketches for all of my textiles before I begin to weave. I like to draw, and I like to weave. Weaving is about making decisions. How thick or thin should the threads be? Do I use single-color threads, or combine them to form different tones? Do I want the surface to be shiny or rough? Should I create effects using thicker materials? Do I want the warp threads to be packed so that the fabric is dense, or loose so that the texture of the tapestry stands out, and the fabric become almost transparent?

Nowadays I find all of my weft threads at flea markets, resulting in surprising tones and materials that appear in my color palette. I like variable surfaces and use them as a part of the story of a work. I like rough and smooth materials for the disagreement and discussion between them. I choose materials, colors, and tones as I weave.

Aino Kajaniemi. “Confidence,” 2014.

I have used linen, cotton, hemp, jute, sisal, nettle, viscose, acrylic, silk, wool, bamboo, bast, paper yarn and paper strip, horsehair and human hair, feathers, fishing line, metal wire, plastic strip and yarn, twig from a tree, birch bark, lurex, gold thread, and triacetate strips.

Flax is my favorite material: heckled flax in many thicknesses, tow flax, hand spun flax, and even unspun flax fiber. To me, silk represents luxury and the exotic, and wool suggests something homey.

When I want to add very thick material to a tapestry, I weave with ground weft for two or three passes and then pick every third warp thread from the open shed to insert the thick thread. In effect, the yarn is tied with one thread up and five threads under in one centimeter, so that it is tied down but doesn’t push the warp threads apart.

Because I use an upright loom and not a frame, I use treadles to avoid having to pick up leashes. This practice frees me to concentrate upon what matters—being expressive and the choices it requires. Sometimes I feel as if I am a part of my loom. The connection occurs in many ways. My feet treadle, my eyes watch, and my brain decides as my hands move through the threads.

Aino Kajaniemi. “Presence,” 2019.

I use butterflies or long thread pieces for weaving, and beat in the weft with an ordinary fork. During a big solo exhibition in 2015, my fork suddenly broke in two pieces. That exhibition was too much for it! I went to our kitchen and found another fork.

In my childhood family, there were five girls, and three of us are artists. One is a painter, the other is a photographer, and I am a textile artist. We have had many exhibitions together. Another lovely family experience has been working with my daughter; we have had six exhibitions together!

I am happy that I have found weaving as my life’s work. No other technique contains such rich history and is recognizable all over the world.

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

Playfulness and Joy in my Atelier

By Inka Kavalo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inka Kivalo. Revoir, 2022. Photo: Chikako Hirada

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Between Two Covers: A Book and an Exhibition Celebrate the Artistry of Renowned Weaver, Brita Been

By Stephanie Serrano Sundby. Thank you to author and the publishers of Kunsthåndverk, the magazine for Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts, for permission to reprint this article.

Be steadfast, work hard, follow your heart and tell your own story, advises Brita Been. Stephanie Serrano Sundby has taken a trip to Skien to meet Been, who this year celebrates her 75th birthday with a book publishing and exhibition at the Telemark Kunstsenter [Telemark Arts Center].

Brita been portrait

Brita Been in front of Tre strømper & et bringebroderi, 2020. (detail) (Three Stockings and a Costume Embroidery) 410 x 200 cm. (13’5″ x 6’7″) From the exhibit MØNSTER OVERALT (PATTERN UNLIMITED), 2022. Telemark Kunstsenter. Photo: Istvan Virag

“[Brita Been] creates her tapestries with a basis in the technique’s underlying structure, the grid.  From this she constructs and composes patterns that spread in rhythmic layers over the surface.  The patterns have an eternal quality, without beginning and without end. But the colors and contour lines work to hold the patterns fast; in a literal sense the pattern is woven firmly to the warp. This creates an inner tension in Breen’s textiles: on the one hand the pattern’s endless, indistinct and eternal character; on the other, the tangible passage of threads over and under the warp.”

This excerpt was written by art historian Jorunn Haakestad and can be found in Been’s exhibition catalog from 2007. The text describes Been’s artistic expression, which lies between tradition and repetition, modernistic elements, form and color. At the same time, the quote testifies to Been’s important role within the fields of art and handcraft. This year Been is celebrating her 75th birthday with a book publication and an exhibition at the Telemark Kunstsenter, both having the title Mønster Overalt [Pattern Unlimited] (2022).  The book is a monograph on Been’s artistry over 50 years, and the exhibition includes everything from large works of tapestry to sketches, prints and shawls.

Brita Been exhibit

Gallery view of the exhibition PATTERN UNLIMITED, 2022, Telemark Kunstsenter.
Photo: Istvan Virag

I took the train to Skien to talk with Been about weaving, about her journey and about folk art. She offered to meet me at the station. I saw her immediately, as she came walking in a bright orange Marimekko coat that lighted up the grey station tunnel. We drove to the Arts Center and Been showed me around in the exhibition. She told me about different weaving techniques, showed me guinea hen feathers, we touched the colorful shawls and she showed me an old embroidered stocking, her favorite, loaned from the Telemark Museum. Finally, we sat down in the art lab for a chat over coffee and croissants.

Brita Been, Shawls in plain weave and dreielteknikk [patterned twill or damask]. Photo from the exhibit PATTERN UNLIMITED, 2022, Telemark Kunstsenter. Photo: Istvan Virag

Can you begin by saying a little about how you discovered weaving and your path towards being an artist?

I had a grandmother who wove, and I remember that I got to sit on the loom bench, insert the rags into a rag rug, and that I was curious about how the heddles worked. At home there was knitting, sewing, crocheting, filet crochet and embroidery. Lots of yardage and skeins of yarn. I often say that certainly one can experience all this without ending up as a textile artist. The most important thing was likely that I got a feeling for textile materials, and that I wanted to produce something, make something myself. In addition, I was raised in the period after the war, and for many this type of work was a natural part of daily life: self made was well made.

After high school I applied for a yearlong course in weaving at the husflidsskole [handcraft school], and one of the requirements was that I first had to take a yearlong course in sewing, which I did not want to do. It didn’t suit me, as you can probably tell when you look at the rather rough quality of my work. So I became a hotel and tourism secretary, but that was just for a short while. I soon realized that I wanted to learn to weave, so by 1979 I was a fully qualified teacher in weaving and tapestry. I worked in a high school until 1999, but the entire time I had a desire to create things myself. 

Before I began my teacher’s training, I lived in the Bergen area. At that time, I had completed a yearlong course in weaving and was an auditor at the Bergen Kunsthåndverkskole [Bergen School of Arts and Crafts]. After that I wove rag rugs in large format, ponchos and cloth for shirts made from straight [not-shaped] pieces.  In addition to my job as a weaving teacher, I began the textile production we see today. I participated in exhibitions as well as becoming a member of Norske Kunshåndverkere [Norwegian Craft Artists] and later also Norske Tekstilkunstnere [Norwegian Textile Artists]. After a while I thought it would be nice to divide my time between teaching and my own artistic production. I still had the responsibilities of house and children, so there was no point in seeking a guaranteed income (GI), because of course I had to earn this money.  I continued my artwork on the side, and participated in annual and regional exhibitions.  I received GI in 1996, and then I could begin to reduce my teaching. At that time, weaving had begun to be phased out in the high schools, so I taught pattern, design, and color. All the while I was active with exhibitions and decorative commissions, and in that way it was a natural transition to the artist’s life. In the beginning I didn’t really have any intention of working as a fulltime artist, it was something that developed over time, but I have always felt the need for my weavings to have their own expression, with a value beyond just being a textile.  Whether placed on the floor or on the wall: art for the floor, art for the wall.

Could you describe your work process, has it changed through the years?

My earlier work is much more geometric, because I’m not really a sketch artist, but I love to create patterns and surface designs. After a trip to Africa in 1989 my work became more organic. How one develops is often dependent on the circumstances that come your way. If I hadn’t had that trip, perhaps I would have continued with geometric forms a while longer, but then surely something else would have come along and taken my work in a new direction.

Brita Been’s sketches on display at the exhibit PATTERN UNLIMITED, 2020. Telemark Kunstsenter. Photo: Istvan Virag

My latest series, Arvestykker [Pieces of Inheritance] has also contributed to changing the way I work. It was new for me to weave without having decided everything in advance. It seemed that the patterns in these sketches required something else from me, something other than the strictly separate pattern areas I had worked with previously. For the first time I copied the sketches in color and in full format as a pattern placed under the weaving, not just as contour lines like before. That is to say, although the main strokes of the drawing were there, I could change the details as I was working on the weaving. This gave me more room for improvisation, and I could adjust color and form as I wove. It also brought about a transition from fewer colors to many colors, with the possibility for several nuances within one color. The later years have also seen a transition from geometric compositions to more organic forms. Earlier there was much repetition in my textiles, but in later works that’s not the case, now the pattern is the entire textile. Of course, a work process will always be developing.

Brita Been, Strømpe (Stocking), 2021. 200 x 200 cm. (6’7″ x 6’7″) From the exhibit PATTERN UNLIMITED, 2022. Telemark Kunstsenter. Photo: Istvan Virag

You write that Arvestykker is a tribute to women’s work?

In working on a decorative commission for Bø nursing home, I became immersed in the beauty of rose embroidery as the basis for my sketch work.

Brita Been was inspired by traditional rose embroidery on stockings and shirts. Photo: Istvan Virag

I became especially interested in the embroidered stockings for beltestakken [the Telemark bunad]. This rich textile folk art reveals an affluence as well as the desire to create. It was in this work that women gave expression to their creative powers. Much time, effort and patience must have been devoted to this. Textile work was of course a part of daily household chores but there is also a large abundance of these pieces, and it is here where their power is seen. At the same time, it is also as Nina Mauno Schjønsby and Halvor Haugen have written in their contribution to the book, I mønsteret ligger leken [The Pleasure is in the Pattern], that for nearly all textiles, the work is credited as “woman, unknown,” for it is not known who has made them.  I thought that surely some of this work should become visible, so I adapted certain selected pattern details into large works for the wall. In this way one can get at least an idea of what these women have done!

What types of various elements and materials capture your interest?

As a rule, it is the patterns that draw my attention. I see the structure, repetitions and rhythm. I find this in everything, from architecture to nature, fabric, paintings and in folk art. Actually it can be anything and anywhere. I often document my impressions with photos. When I work further with the material, it is exciting to try out different size relationships and selections. With this I am exploring how a pattern can be endlessly varied, by enlarging, reducing, repeating and designing. I think it is exciting to see how use of different colors can change the effect. My work on the horizontal loom, as opposed to the upright loom, is all about repetition, system and order, pattern and structure. That’s just the way I think. When I worked in the high school, I spent 13 years supervising studies; among other things I made lesson plans and established thematic and hourly schedules. Things had to fit, which is probably something I have a preference for. Weavers are systematic, you know.

Brita Been, Mosaic Bright, 2005. 220 x 230 cm. (7’3″ x 7’7″) In the exhibit PATTERN UNLIMITED, 2022. Photo: Istvan Virag

Could you say more about your inspiration and connection to the textile folk arts?

I could point to the series Repitisjoner [Repetitions], which is based on squares and which has a direct link back to the old geometric tapestry coverlets. I hadn’t actually planned that that series would build on old weaving traditions, but I often see these connections after the fact. This is because when you see something, even if you don’t think consciously about it, it makes an impression that you carry with you. By the way, I like to say that I could work with squares for the rest of my life, it is so exciting to make these different combinations.

The Skybragd [Cloud pattern] series also has a connection with an old tradition. Within weaving theory one finds many different bragder [methods], such as tavlebragd, rosebragd, krokbragd, sjonbragd, og skillbragd, [various types of overshot, boundweave and inlay] but these are threading patterns, or techniques. Skybragd, on the other hand, is not a technique but a pattern. It migrated over time from the Orient. The pattern probably started as the profile of a lotus blossom, changed to a pomegranate or palmette motif, and on its travels to Scandinavia became what was known as a cloud pattern. This journey is described in a publication from 1969: “Fra granateple til skybragd” [From pomegranate to cloud pattern] by Ernst Fischer. One can, for example, find the cloud pattern in Norwegian coverlets and pillow covers from the 1600 and 1700s. I was in China as a participant in the exhibition Fra Lausanne til Beijing [From Lausanne to Beijing]. On the first visit I was incredibly fascinated by the beautiful carvings in marble, and I took many photos. When I came home, these photos lay unused for many years before I got them out again. After I had completed the series Repitisjoner, I wanted to do something new. When one starts on a new project, one often goes through old material, things one has had in the back of their mind for a long time. It was when I took out these photos from China that the cloud began to crystalize as a shape element. While working with the drawings I thought about titles, I am not so good with titles, but I came to think about an old pillow cover I had seen at the Kunstindustrimuseet [Museum of Decorative Arts and Design] in Oslo, with the skybragd motif. The title was given: “Skybragd.”  Somewhat like the cloud pattern traveled from the Orient to Scandinavia, this became my journey from China to Porsgrunn [in Norway].

Brita Been’s “Skybragd,” as displayed in the exhibition catalog.

I believe that some of what I have observed in so-called “folk art” has remained with me. There is something in its simplicity and power that I think is fascinating. This directness strikes me much more than, say, old classical figurative paintings. It is, of course, wonderful to see the work of the great artists, but I think the transition into modernism is much more exciting, and the abstract, this play in the surface. It is probably the power of “folk art,” the apparently simple style, which interests me. I believe it is because I see things very much in two dimensions, I am not as good at three dimensional thinking. 

You have traveled a lot and have been inspired by, for example, both zebras and guinea hens. How have your travels influenced your artistry?

I don’t quite know, but for example, I found something on my trip to Africa that I wanted to use in my work. The rough, raw African style really appealed to me. This was a watershed trip. I received a travel stipend and was there for five weeks. I had a brother and a colleague who worked in Malawi and Zambia, respectively, who wanted me to visit. I didn’t go there with the intention of coming back with impressions and materials for new textiles, but when you experience and see things that make an impression on you, then you take that with you. I found, for example, many beautiful fabrics, braided rugs and fantastic baskets. The colors in the landscape also made a huge impression. We were on a walking safari where I picked up guinea fowl feathers. Zebras were another favorite, with their patterns from top to toe. These I later adapted into the series Luangwa [in Zambia]. 


Brita Been, Guinea Hen & Zebra, 2017. 109 x 200 cm. (3’7″ x 6’7″) In the exhibit PATTERN UNLIMITED, 2022. Photo: Istvan Virag

In the exhibition one sees selected works, but also sketches over your lengthy professional life. In the book one gets a comprehensive overview of all your textiles. How has it been to work with the exhibition and the book? Do you see any new ‘red threads’ [commonalities]?

Photo: Istvan Virag

I have a good perspective over my work, textiles are after all a time-consuming enterprise. Nonetheless, through the book I see that I’ve produced a relatively large volume of work. Everything becomes clear. The development in artistry comes forth, and the continuity in the work is clarified. Actually, the book represents a weaver’s life set between two covers.

But my ‘red threads’ are in fact black! If you look at the index at the back of the book, you can see my entire production of textiles in chronological order. The very first textile has no black in it, but in all the others I’ve used black as one of the colors. Black brings forth the other colors and makes them clearer, while at the same time black can help to emphasize shapes. So it has been natural for me to use black, it is sort of like my ‘thing.’ Likely because I see that I most often have used strong, relatively clear colors. The patterns are distinct and clear, and the somewhat rough quality is also characteristic.

Working with the book has been quite exciting and very demanding. A year and a half ago, in fact, I was asked why I hadn’t created a book, but my answer was that it was too big a job, someone else would have to do it. Three months later I received the assurance of this exhibition at Telemark Kunstsenter.The Kunstnerisk Råd [Artistic Council] put the entire facility at my disposal on the occasion of my 75th birthday, and they took the initiative for publishing a book. Naturally I was greatly appreciative that they wished to present my long artistic career in this manner.It is very nice to have such a large exhibition, where you have the opportunity to show several sides of all that you’ve sat and worked on in the studio. The documentation of what one has done shows both the development and the range within your own work. It hit me, “Wow, am I the one who did all this?!”

It has been a good collaboration with the Telemark Kunstsenter, especially regarding the manager, Hilde Tørdal. All who have taken part in the exhibition and the book have been both capable and positive. Another exciting thing about the book has been to see what others write about your work and give that a second look. In other words, others see connections that may not be as clear to you. One can learn from this.

What do you think about developments in the textile profession, do you have any advice for new textile artists?

Interest in textiles is on the rise again in the art world. For my part, I notice that there is great respect for being knowledgeable in a handcraft, even among the younger artists. Unfortunately, such capability is not being advanced in education today, but there are many clever young people who do this in their own way. Every generation creates for themselves, making new things that build on those that we, their elders, have created. Things change over time, and it is good to observe that the textile arts appear to have a future, but of course in a completely different way than it was for my generation. If I should give any advice, which is a little difficult, it would be that they must have passion, have belief in what they are doing. Be steadfast, work hard, follow your heart and tell your own story.

Translated by Katherine Larson, Department of Scandinavian Studies, University of Washington

Editor’s note: The original title for the article was “Mine Røde Tråder er jo Sorte,” “My Red Threads are Black.” Been explains that she discovered her “red threads,” or the common elements in her weaving over the years, by working on the book covering her whole career. Then she jokes that her use of black became evident, so her “red thread” turns out to be black. Once you know the Norwegian “red thread” idiom, it’s a very clever title. 

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

Flamskväv (Tapestry) in Skåne, Sweden: Then and Now

By Marianne Asp

Marianne Asp’s modern use of Flamskväv, in a jacket modeled by her daughter. Photo provided by Marianne Asp.

Weavers from Flanders came to Skåne (southwestern Belgium and northwestern France) as early as the beginning of the 16th century. At the royal castles, tapestries were hung as decoration and as protection against cold and drafts from cold stone walls.

The weavers were men who lived in a castle until a tapestry was finished and then moved to the next castle and the next weaving task. Famous battles and pictures from the Bible were depicted. The tapestries were large, usually around 13′ x 19′ (400cm x 600cm).

The weavers had a pattern collection (cartoons) from which the nobility ordered motifs. By the 17th century, tapestries became less popular and male weavers could not support themselves and their families. Weaving then became a task for women and the art of weaving tapestry transitioned from a profession to handicraft.

At the same time, folk artists, mainly in southwestern Skåne, began to weave tapestry. The land was very fertile in that region, and supported servants working in the fields. Women on the farms had time to weave and embroider. The largest production was in 1750 – 1850.

Swedish digital Library image: https://digitaltmuseum.se/011023369651/akedyna. Unbleached linen warp, wool weft. “The Lion Castle ” is surrounded by flowers and flying birds, framed by a blue zigzag border. It has wool fringe and a back of red calfskin. Woven in 1790 by Bengta Olsdotter. The motif is described in Ernst Fischer Flamskvävnader i Skåne, pp. 280-283. 

Large cushions called äkdynor became status symbols; a sign that you were rich. The cushions were used on Sundays, when traveling to church by horse and carriage. Most important was the bride’s journey to church before her wedding: she could sit on up to ten cushions!

The images were religious or taken from folklore. Flowers and birds were also depicted, strewn throughout the image. The cushion dimension were usually 20″ x 39″ (50cm x 100cm). The joy of color is evident, and there are many shades.

https://digitaltmuseum.se/011023711729/akdyna. No date given. Very large flowers and vases; very small people! Look closely to find charming birds. 

Museums and handcraft organizations in Sweden play an important role in maintaining interest in handcrafts. Handcraft consultants teach courses in Flamskväv and handicraft stores sell all needed materials. the classes have been completely full in the past year.

We who weave Flamskväv have a responsibility to carry on the knowledge, tradition and joy of weaving.

Flamskväv by Marianne Asp. Photo provided by Marianne Asp.

Marianne Asp teaches traditional Swedish tapestry, Flamskväv, with Hemslojd (the Handcraft Association) in Skåne, Sweden. She has also taught at Sätergläntan. She has woven in a variety of techniques for many years, but always returns to Flamskväv, inspired by the richness of color and pattern in the old tapestries. 

To delve more into the tapestries of Skåne, see Anne Whidden’s post in the Swedish Rug Blog, “Traditional Swedish Tapestry Weave.”

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

Anti-Monument: The 2022 Hannah Ryggen Triennial

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

 

Reconstructing Tapestry Cushions for the Oslo City Hall

By Robbie LaFleur 

If you visit Oslo, be sure to visit the Rådhus (City Hall). The enormous rooms hold monumental frescoes and tapestries, including Lilletorget (1950), designed by Kåre Jonsborg. When it was woven by Else Halling and assistants, it was the largest tapestry woven in Norway to date, at 12’ x 24.5’. 

In the main hall, a long marble bench flanks one wall, lined with 60(!) tapestry-woven cushions. Thirteen seat cushions with 26 back cushions are woven with a dark background. Seven seat cushions with 14 back cushions have a light background.

Tapestry cushions in the main hall of Oslo City Hall. 

The covers were designed by Else Poulsson (1909-2002) and made by several weavers with Husflid (the Norwegian Handicraft Association) in 1949-1950. Poulsson won other textile design competitions for the new building. A monumental tapestry depicting St. Hallvard, patron saint of Oslo, was hung in the City Council chambers in 1948. In other spaces are tablecloths, upholstery, and curtains by the famed designer.

The bench cushions received seventy years of heavy use; they were worn, stained, and faded. You could see areas with old repairs, and the warp was visible in places. The City administration decided to fund a reconstruction of the cushions, as close as possible to the originals. They contracted with Kristin Sæterdal to outline the scope of the project, including the materials needed and the techniques to be used. 

Sæterdal’s report, “Test Project for Cushion Covers,” was quite thorough. She identified the correct warp, Bockens linen 8/4 (although she mentioned that cotton warp could be chosen too, because it wears out less). She identified the tapestry techniques to be used and gave instructions for fashioning the tapestry into cushions. She drew the cartoons and completed her plan for the preliminary reconstruction in 2020. 

Tapestry techniques to be used: Pointed dovetail (fig. 1), Steps (fig. 2), Outlining (fig. 3)

Based on Sæterdal’s estimates made during the trial, 80 kilos of thick yarn were ordered from the Hoelfeldt-Lund spinnery. The yarn was dyed at Sandnes Garn (Sandnes Yarn). Colors for the 28 kilos of light yarn and 52 kilos of sheep brown yarn were based on samples from the existing cushion covers.

This is a sample for the ORIGINAL project, woven by Else Poulsen. Owned by the Norsk Folkemuseum. https://digitaltmuseum.no/011023236221/hyndetrekk-prove-til

Dorthe Herup was chosen to head the project in February 2022, and she has a team of four weavers to help reconstruct the cushions. Herup wrote about the importance of the wool that will be used. 

“The original textile was woven with spelsau yarn from Spinnerigården and the choice of yarn is important for the appearance and qualities of the textile. Spinnerigården still exists and Per Hoelfeldt Lund, who originally spun the yarn, is still alive. Yarn for this reproduction was spun in 2021 by Per Hoelfeldt Lund. Thus, the yarn is supplied by the same manufacturer as the original. This was also important to us.”

It is wonderful that two well-known contemporary tapestry artists are involved. Kristin Sæterdal conducted the initial research, and Dorthe Herup will lead the project to completion. Kristin Sæterdal’s tapestries are more likely to include spaceships and technology than the geometric historical cushion design, reminiscent of the Viking Age.  Dorthe Herup weaves figures in a unique technique, honoring people and families over generations. 

It is commendable that Oslo city officials understand the importance of reconstructing the original tapestry cushions. They estimate the entire project should take 2-½ years. If you visit Oslo City Hall after that, admire the beautiful tapestries and frescos and then rest on the beautiful cushions. But don’t spill your coffee. 

Marta Kløve Juuhl from Bergen, Norway, is one of the four project weavers. Her first cushion cover is shown in process. 

Read more: 

Longbers, Ingeborg. “Modern Norwegian Tapestries.” Handweaver & Craftsman, Winter 1953-54, p. 12-13. More information about the tapestries in Oslo City Hall. 

Sundbø, Annemor. “Norwegian Tapestry in the Post-War Years.” Norwegian Textile Letter, August, 2021. 

Sæterdal, Kristin, “Test project for Cushion Covers.” In Norwegian, but with interesting illustrations. On the Project Documentation page, click on the link for “Vedlegg 1_Forprosjekt rådhusbenk, av Kristin Sæterdal.pdf” and the document will automatically download. 

To view the extent of beautiful architecture and ornamentation in Oslo City Hall, see this page from the city’s art collection website: Oslo rådhus.

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