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Lila Nelson and her Tapestry Barter System

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By Robbie LaFleur

Lila Nelson was the Textile Curator at Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum for decades, a premier expert on Norwegian textiles. She was a beloved weaving instructor, a talented weaver, and a mentor and friend to many weavers. Her talents were matched only by her modesty. She was a prolific tapestry weaver, but completely uninterested in seeking gallery recognition, making money by selling her tapestries, or arranging exhibits to display them. Instead she rolled them up and stacked them inside a wooden couch-sized bench in her living room. I was knocked nearly speechless the first time she moved the cushions, opened the lid, and revealed the size of the treasure contained in the chest. So far I have found no one smart enough to have taken a photo of that bench.  

Lila showed her friend Paula Pfaff the bench and her tapestries. Fellow cat lover Paula was taken with a cat tapestry and the quote by Yeats that inspired it. Lila offered it to Paula in exchange for a new handwoven bedside rug. Paula recalled, “I was very very flattered that she wanted to trade and I definitely think I got the best part of the deal.” Paula framed the tapestry with an embroidered nod to the W.B. Yeats poem that inspired Lila’s work. The cat Minneloushe, “Alone, important and wise lifts to the moon his changing eyes.”

Lila Nelson. “Minneloushe.

When Mary Skoy asked Lila about buying a tapestry, Lila instead suggested that Mary knit her some mittens. Here are the elaborate mittens with a beautiful scalloped edge.

 

The tapestry Mary now cherishes is “A Red Letter Day.” It features a girl on a swing, an image Lila wove at least three times. Lila also enjoyed adding lettering and rune-like shapes to her tapestries.

Lila Nelson. “A Red Letter Day.”

Mary now has both ends of the barter. “After Lila died, someone gave these back to me, knowing that I would savor the memories.” Indeed, she does. 

We have a record of a good portion of Lila’s tapestry legacy due to her friend Francie Iverson, who enlisted her son Sam Iverson and his friend Sara Moe to visit Lila and photograph the tapestries in her apartment. In exchange, Lila gave a small tapestry to insect-loving Sara–another barter. 

insect tapestry

Lila Nelson. “Insect.”

Francie Iverson has a tapestry of New York City’s Central Park, with the city in the background. In exchange, Lila received a bowl made of fabric, with vintage embroidery in the center. 

Lila Nelson. “Central Park.”

Francie Iverson. “Fabric Bowl with Vintage Embroidery.”

When Lila began her protest series following the 9/11 bombings of New York City, I really wanted one of her “Terrorist Cat” tapestries. In exchange, she asked me to cater a reception for board members of the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum, to be held in her home. Of course, I responded. If she had called me any time and asked me to help with a reception, I would have done it happily–and now I would get a tapestry!

Lila Nelson. “Terrorist Cat.” 15″ h x 12″ w. circa 2012.

Perhaps the most elaborate barter was between Lila and Wendy Stevens from Decorah, Iowa, who now owns the magnificent “Albert the Alligator.” Wendy described “the deal” in detail in her eulogy at Lila’s memorial celebration at the Textile Center of Minnesota. (See: “Lila Nelson Celebration: Wendy Stevens.”) In short, here’s the list of items in exchange for Albert: 4 quarts of maple syrup, 1 pint of honey, 1 pint of raspberry sauce, 2 cups of granola, 1 cup of dried morels, 4 one-pound packages of frozen venison, 2 loaves of homemade bread, 1 packet of basil pesto, 3 containers of homemade cookies, 1 decorative gourd, 1 butternut squash, 3 onions, 2 pounds of carrots, and 10 potatoes. Albert looks like he could eat all that. 

Lila Nelson. “Albert the Alligator.”

So far, these are the only barters I’ve discovered, but given Lila’s modesty, perhaps there are more. If Lila’s other friends had known about this avenue of tapestry acquisition, I’m SURE there would have been many more. If you own a tapestry by Lila I might not know about, whether obtained by barter or otherwise, let me know. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“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. 

Book Review–Hannah Ryggen: Threads of Defiance

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By Sally Reckert

Courtesy of the British Tapestry Group, first published on their website in January, 2020.

Review: Hannah Ryggen: Threads of Defiance, 
by Marit Paasche

Thames & Hudson, 2019
288 pages
ISBN 9780500094099 hannah-ryggen-threads-of-defiance hardcover

In 2011 a bomb detonated in front of the “Highrise,” (the colloquial name of the government building Oslo), leaving Hannah Ryggen’s tapestry “We are Living on a Star” lying in a pool of dirty water, concrete rubble and shards of glass. Later the bomber, Anders Behring Breivik, went on to kill 69 people, most of them children, at a youth camp on the island of Utøya.

Hannah Ryggen (1894-1970) would have woven this horror as a monumental tapestry and ensured that it was hung in a public space in memory of these wasted lives. She was a Swedish/􏰗Norwegian artist whose tapestries were well 􏰗known and admired in her lifetime, and was recognised as a genius by her, mainly male, critics. Her large output of tapestry work was mainly publicly hung as she refused private commissions when possible. She exhibited internationally on a regular basis but fell into the unknown from the 1970s. Frustratingly the author, Marit Paasche, doesn’t cover this period and so tell us why. Perhaps she’ll write a second work on Ryggen?

The significance of Hannah Ryggen as one of the most important figures in the history of Scandinavian art has 􏰂􏰀􏰐􏰔only recently been rediscovered internationally, mainly thanks to Marit Paaschewho has studied Ryggen’s work for the past ten years. Ryggen’s rich􏰌􏰅􏰀􏰎􏰍 􏰉􏰇􏰏􏰊archive of news cuttings, photographs, sketches and letters 􏰇􏰀􏰈􏰂􏰉􏰃􏰅􏰄 informed Paasche’s work, whether radical political statements against fascism or against poverty􏰇􏰀􏰍􏰆 􏰕􏰂􏰓􏰅􏰉􏰆􏰔and cruelty and injustice in her own country, newly independent Norway. Using these sources, Paasche focuses on the period of Ryggen’s life that she shared with her husband Hans between the weaving of “Fishing on the Sea of Debt” (1933) and “We are Living on a Star” (1958). In “We are Living on a Star” Ryggen􏰔􏰌􏰌􏰅􏰀 has woven a naked man and woman lying within a large oval, the couple are encircled by a blue band binding and separating time, two babies lie either side of their feet; the family surrounded by the infinity of the cosmos. Ryggen explained her thinking behind the tapestry: “I chose the shortest route: woman man child. They meet on earth, star among other stars, why no one knows, where they come from no one knows. They are there together: life’s highest expression and purpose, and two children already on their way to continue on the same path.”􏰜

Responding to her grief at Hans’s death, Ryggen wove “We are Living on a Star” (1958) on a loom built by him. She had been commissioned, in 1955, by the Norwegian state to weave three monumental tapestries, to themes of her choice, to hang in the new government building, the Regjeringsbygget or Highrise designed by Erling Viksjø, whose novel sandblasted walls were the only other decoration.

There was another side to Ryggen’s life and work which illuminated everything she did, her closeness to nature, her respect and dependence on it and all other living things. “Us and our Animals” (1934) was woven in response to the necessary slaughter of her geese including her beloved Kakaleja: “I had ten geese. We slaughtered them all at once. I haven’t eaten goose since.” Unusually, for depictions of nature during this period, there is no sentimental romanticism. For the Ryggens on their small-holding, nature was very real. In 1948 Malmö Museum bought “Us and Our Animals” for 25,000 Swedish kroner, a not inconsiderable sum which caused heated debate. As the Director, Ernst Fischer, wrote, “I managed to secure the purchase today. Politics were involved…The naysayers insisted on remaining anonymous in the minutes.”

Hannah Ryggen’s visually powerful tapestries are a mixture of folk narrative and decoration, social commentary and pure colours. The wool was mostly spun by her from her own sheep and dyed by her using local plants. At once hard-hitting and humorous, her works combine personal candour, social and political engagement and visual majesty.

Paasche explores Ryggen’s bold subject matter, particular blend of abstraction and figuration, and use of contemporary and folk art not only within the context of Ryggen’s life and beliefs, but also in the context of European art and politics of the first half of the 20th century. Not reading Norwegian, it’s hard for me to know whether Paasche writes well or is served well by her translator, Katie Stieglitz, or a mixture of the two; but taken together the women speak confidently and calmly, leaving the tapestries, informed by Ryggen’s voice through her archive, to speak for themselves.

Included in the book are excellent illustrations, many with detailed accompanying images, together with numerous photographs showing Hannah with her family on their small-holding, and in her contemporary world. But this is not a picture book for the coffee table. It is a very readable and scholarly account of Ryggen’s work, backed up by a comprehensive list of works, bibliography, footnotes and archive resources. ‘Hannah Ryggen: Threads of Defiance’ provides an account of a remarkable artist. I recommend it to both weavers and non-weavers as a well-written document of a fascinating and turbulent time for Europe and it effect on an artist who engaged and wove to the full the life around her.

Review by Sally Reckert (sally@reckert.com) October 2019

Sally Reckert is an avid tapestry weaver who lives in Richmond, Yorkshire, England. She is also the editor of the British Tapestry Group’s journal, Tapestry Weaver. Sally has a tapestry in the upcoming exhibit, The Baldishol: A Medieval Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles. Read about this tapestry with special resonance now: Sally Reckert: Marching Toward the Unknown.

RETRO REPRINT: The Ruteaklaer Tradition in Norway

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Revisiting the Norwegian Textile Letter Volume 1, No. 2, January 1995

By Lila Nelson

Of the various types of coverlets produced and used on the farms in Norway during the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries, those with geometric forms woven in certain tapestry techniques have been surprisingly neglected.  Much more interest has been taken in the two major pile weaves, flossa and rya, and more is known of their history.  This parallels the situation in the Orient, to which the rya knot can be traced, where pile woven carpets have until recently eclipsed concern with flat woven types.  Marit Wang’s Ruteaklaer (Oslo: Univeritetsforlaget, 1983) is the first in-depth study of Norway’s geometric patterned tapestry coverlets.

[This rutevev coverlet is similar to the one in the original article. From the collection of Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Full record here.]

Like many folk textiles, the coverlets have been known by a variety of names, and recently scholars have tried to arrive at one generally accepted and understood term. Aklae1 has been in common usage to denote coverlets of which the geometric are only one example.  In Akleboka (Gauslaa and Ostby, Landbruksforlaget, 1977), aklae included twills, overshot, bound weaves and double weaves in addition to the tapestry types.  Smettaklae infers the technique; this refers to aklaer woven with small butterflies or bobbins with discontinuous wefts.  Ruteaklae identifies the design as being built up of square blocks (Janice Stewart in her FOLK ARTS OF NORWAY uses the term “square weave” in identifying geometric tapestry coverlets), while Vestlandsaklae indicates the area in Norway where most of the coverlets were produced. 

Recently the Swedish term rolaken has been used in an effort to standardize nomenclature on a broader level (Nordisk Tekstilteknisk Terminologi by Stromberg, Geijer, Hald, and Hoffman, Oslo, published, 1974, and Wang, Ruteaklaer).  However, since I believe that weavers in this area still generally identify rolakan with one specific type of tapestry coverlet from Sweden, I will use the term chosen by Wang for the title of her study, ruteaklae.

When interlock tapestry, of which ruteaklae is a type, came into Norway is not known.  Archaeological finds in Sweden from the eighth and ninth centuries have included fragments of rolakan considered by some scholars to be indigenous.  Anna-Maja Nylen states that it is generally believed rolakan existed in an unbroken tradition in Sweden from prehistoric times.2

Janice Stewart equates the development of ruteaklae with that of chip carving in Norway,3  both appearing in the Middle Ages, although no examples from that period have been documented in any of the Nordic countries.  Einar Lexow, in his 1914 study of the 280 rutaeklaer then in the Bergen Museum, speculated that the technique might have begun  at a time when a sharp demarcation between rural and urban did not exist; that the eighteenth century marked the period of development among the Norwegian peasants and the nineteenth and twentieth centuries a time of gradual decadence and decline.4 The date of production for most extant ruteaklaer can only be surmised. Lexow dates one Sogn coverlet in the Bergen collection as no older than 1700 on the basis of the dress and pipe styles of two smoking figures in the upper center.5 Unfortunately, such figures are rare in ruteaklaer and, equally unfortunately, dates were seldom woven into them.

Areas of western and southern Norway where ruteaklaer were woven. Numbers refer to the Bergen Museum collection as of 1975.

A little more is known about the locus of production.  Of the 346 coverlets now in the Bergen Museum (the largest individual collection in Norway), the provenance of 205 is known. Practically all come from the west coast fjord area as far north as Sunnmore and south to Mandal on the southern tip (see map, fig. 1).  The highest concentration within that area is midway, in Sogn (49 aklaer) and Nordhordland (45), and in their bordering regions, Sunnfjord (23) to the north and Hardanger (19) to the south.  Lexow’s additional examination of aklaer in the collections of the Kristiania Museum of Industrial Arts, the Norwegian Folk Museum and the Maihaugen collection confirmed these conclusions.  The few having inland provenances were believed to have been imports from west Norway. 

General characteristics of ruteaklaer include a rectangular shape around four feet in width and five feet in length.  The majority are made in one piece, indicating the use of a wide loom; but in the southern areas many are woven in two equal sections joined down the center.  The warp is generally of linen or hemp in the earliest pieces, but a tight twist cotton appears later.  A small number throughout the west coast area have wool warps.  The warp, generally single but sometimes double stranded, is spaced so that it is completely covered by the wool weft, which is packed down to produce a satisfactorily tight and warm coverlet.  The occasional appearance of heading cords suggests that some aklaer were woven on a vertical loom; Marta Hoffmann has written about a west coast loom with both upper and lower beams, as well as the warp-weighted loom, which was in common use throughout the country long after the introduction of the horizontal loom on the European continent.6 Fringed upper and lower borders probably indicate revival pieces made for decorative use only; the early aklaer were simply turned under and firmly stitched.  The designs making up the body of the pieces are built up in blocks of two, four or six warp widths, with four being the standard.  Upper and lower borders are generally present in widely varying designs and sizes; four-sided borders seem to occur only in pieces from the southern areas.  The ruteaklaer which, unlike the above, have an all-over banded composition, appear to be unique to the area of Nordhorland.

From the standpoint of tapestry techniques, the body of ruteaklaer were executed in four ways.  Of these, the single interlock method seems to have predominated.  In this method, meeting wefts are linked between warps when moving one direction only, fig.1.  Double interlock, a linkage of wefts in both directions as in rolakan, fig.2 was a close second, although it appears that single interlock has been more common in late nineteenth and twentieth century coverlets. 

A considerable smaller group has single dovetailed joins (meeting wefts share a common warp), fig.3, and a very few represent mixed techniques.  Of 345 aklaer in the Bergen Collection, grouping according to technique was follows:7 

 

Reasons for method choices are speculative.  One could presume that a practical-minded housewife would prefer aklaer woven in single interlock because these were reversible.  They were not however, as heavy as double interlock pieces, a factor to consider in cold climates.  Marit Monsen in the 1975 yearbook of Sunnmore Museum, points up the possibility of a relationship between design and method. She noted that of the twelve ruteaklaer from Sunnmore in the Bergen collection, the seven with eight-petaled flower motifs were done in single interlock; the four with diagonal line compositions were double interlock; and the one with both motifs included both techniques.  Wang found that the eight-petaled flower “appears proportionately more frequently in coverlets woven with single interlocking’.8

Professor Lexow from his 1914 study came to the conclusion that the wide variety of designs found in ruteaklaer developed from an originally uniform motif, the eight-petaled flower.  He describes it quite explicitly:

The motif repeated in all coverlets of this older type is the eight-petaled flower with two dark colors alternating in adjoining petals. The space between the petals is yellow at top, bottom, and on both sides, and white in other spaces. Around the flower is always found an octagonal frame of darker color. This figure is almost identical on these coverlets, with insignificant variations only in color. Four of the petals are always of a reddish-violet color (from a vegetable dye made from lecanora tartaria). The other four petals are usually green or brown but now often faded completely gray; occasionally they are also blue.The frame is woven in the same colors as those of the flower. Yellow and white are the unchanging ground colors. The same rule for color placement is adhered to here as in heraldry: ‘either color on metal, or metal on color’; that is, darker colors must never be placed close to each other but must always be separated by light colors (gold and silver in heraldry, yellow and white in square weave)’9

Traditional eight-petaled flower. Rutevev from Hordaland in the collection of the Norsk Folkemuseum. Full record here.

Variation in the arrangement of the flowers occurred early and developed in some cases as clearly localized character.  In Hardanger they became smaller than in Sogn and Sunnfjord and were repeated, often in white, up to 24 times, while broken-up diagonals with complex color and design arrangements dotted the divisions between the flowers. 

Hardanger coverlet in the collection of the Norsk Folkemuseum. Full record here.

The colors were usually the standard red, yellow, and natural white and black, but in brighter shades than found to the north in Sogn, with sometimes blue or green included.  Eventually the division blocks between petals as well as the alternating color arrangement disappeared, leaving a simplified form of an eight-pointed star.  Generally speaking, the coverlets of Sogn and the north have big bold flowers in larger blocks of color than are usual in Hardanger and the south.  In Nordhordland a distinctively horizontal orientation developed, with the eight-petaled flower only one of other motifs and techniques occurring in narrow bands across an entire piece.  Relatively dark shades of red and blue also distinguished many of these coverlets.

Banded coverlet from Hordaland. Norsk Folkemuseum. Full record here.

The Celtic knot motif has been found often though not exclusively, in Sogn.  It is a motif to which magic properties were once ascribed, but it is not known that this or any other motif had symbolic significance as used in aklaer.  While in some media the knot has circular loops in each of the four corners, in geometric weaving these have become squares.  The knot has appeared within the center of an eight-pointed star, in a double form in horizontal rows, and in a highly complex structure of 20 interlocked knots rather than the standard four. 

A highly complex variant of the celtic knot from Sogn. Norsk Folkemuseum. Full record here.

In other variations the knots have been opened to form a motif called the nine crosses. 

A coverlet dominated by the nine-cross motif. From Slottsfjellmuseet. Full record here.

In still another, referred to as the nine-flowers motif, the crosses have each become closed triangles.  Finally, it has been combined with a variation of the lily cross in which the Celtic knot is practically obscured.

While crosses and diamonds fill the diagonals between flowers and knot motifs, they also comprise the only motifs in some aklaer.  Four diamonds clustered together to form a large diamond called a hodnrose (horned flower) sometimes alternated with a five-diamond arrangement known as kollerose or hornless flower.  These seem to appear in all of the west coast areas where ruteaklaer were found.

The ornamentation on upper and lower borders, which can be found in practically every rutaklaer, varies considerably in width, design, and technique.  By far the most widely prevalent – and often the only- border designs are narrow stripes and two-color alterations called kjerringtenner (hag’s teeth). All the colors of the piece are picked up and blended in what is usually a pleasing contrast to the bolder blocks of color and design in the body. Other borders, which occur in approximately decreasing frequency in the order of their listing, include:

This brief introduction points up how much is left to be studied about ruteaklear.  The extensive collections in Norwegian museums other than Bergen, as well as the many in private possession, need to be catalogued.  Microscopic examination of warps to determine the nature of what Wang describes only as non-wool could answer questions about the introduction and distribution of cotton in rural Norway.  The relationship of ruteaklaer to the pictorial tapestry tradition in Norway is a field of further exploration. Very little has been done to relate ruteaklaer to geometric flat weavings of Poland, Rumania, Bulgaria, and parts of western Europe.  And of particular interest here, the number of ruteaklaer in private and public collections brought to this country as a result of the Norwegian immigration should be located and researched.  They are a part of that complex and diverse entity which comprises the folk art tradition of America.  

1The spelling of aklae varies according to chronology and place.  Akled, for example, is an early form.

2Ann-Maja Nylen. Tr. Anne Charlotte Harvey.  Swedish Handcrafts, New York:  Van Nostrand Reinhold Co, 1977, p.151.

3Janice Stewart. The Folk Arts of Norway, New York:  Dover Publications, Inc., 1972, Second edition p.164.

4Einer Lexow. Tr. John Gundersen. Vestlanksk Vevkunst. Monograph reprinted from the Bergens Museums Aarbok, 1914. P.27.

5Lexow,p.7.

6Marta Hoffmann, En Gruppe Vevstoler pa Vestlandet, Oslo: pub, 1958; ibid, The Warp-Weighted Loom Studia Norwegica No 14, Oslo, 1964.

7Marit Wang, Ruteaklaer, Universitetetsforlaget, 1983, p. 147.

8Wang, p. 148 (English summary)

9Lexow, pp. 5-6.

Reprinted with permission form THE TEXTILE COUNCIL of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, Spring 1994

Would you like to see more rutevev coverlets?  

Here are a few from the virtual galleries of Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. 

The Norwegian Digital Library, digitaltmuseum.no, includes artifacts from many museums in Norway. If you enter “rutevev” in the search box, you can see almost 400 pieces. 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surprises in Everyday Life

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Editor’s note:  Dorthe Herup’s tapestry, “Messelt,” was chosen this year for inclusion in the prestigious annual art show in Norway, the Høstutstilling (the Fall Exhibition). This article on Herup and her tapestry appeared in the online magazine Billedkunst (Visual Art), published by Norsk Billedkunstnere (The Association of Norwegian Visual Artists) on September 26, 2019.

Hedda Grevle Ottesen in Conversation with Dorthe Herup

“Dåp” (Baptism), 2014.

When someone weaves, they have a genuine opportunity to feel time, and experience how exciting history can be, says Dorthe Herup.

At Holmestrand station I was warmly greeted by textile artist Dorthe Herup (born in 1953 in Ærø, Denmark). We drove from the center of Holmestrand out toward pasture land, where fallow deer and Muflon sheep grazed. Here at the Marienborg family farm Herup and the artist Morten Juvet have a working farm and their studios. Ever since the Danish Herup completed her degree at Bergen Kunsthåndverkskole in 1978, much of her career has been outside Norway, even though she has lived most of her life in Norway. 

Herup moved to Norway in 1973 and worked for [noted tapestry weaver] Else Marie Jakobsen in Kristiansand before she began to study in Oslo at Statens Håndverks- og Kunstindustriskole (the National Handcraft and Industrial Art School). Herup has participated in large textile exhibitions, such as the Beijing International Fiberart Biennale Exhibition and the Biennale Internazionale di fiber art in Italy. This is the third time Herup’s work is in the Høstutstilling.

Herup has an engaging presence. Over coffee she showed me photos from the early 1900s, photographs that have inspired her tapestries. Like “Benken” from 2018, which depicts Danish sailors from her childhood—sailors who told tales from around the world, if you took the time to listen. She recited stories of her relatives’ histories, showing knowledge of earlier generations. She showed wonder at their ordinary lives, which unmistakably resemble our own today. 

“Benken” (The Bench), 2018. 180 cm x 450 cm.

After a wide-ranging conversation on the role of textile art today, we wandered across the yard to Juvet and Herup’s two studios. Light came in through a balcony with a view of the fjord. On the other side of the room was a remarkably large weaving. The tapestry was used for interior décor under the auspices of the City of Oslo in 2014. The 3 x 6 meter woven scene hangs in the foyer of Fernanda Nissens School in Storo. The feminist Fernanda Nissen stands on the right side of the tapestry with the National Theater and Bjørnstjerne Bjørnsen in the background. The left side of the tapestry depicts matchstick workers on strike. The dramatic scene of the tapestry is an example of how Herup relates political aspects to young people. 

Fernanda Nissen School tapestry. Photo: Jansen. 300 cm x 600 cm

In connection with my visit Dorthe hung the large tapestry in wool about the bear hunter Ole Olsen Messelt (1776-1869), “Messelt,” (145 x 110 cm) from 2018.  The weaving is impressionistic: looked at closely, it appears to have planes of horizontal color changes; at a distance, the palette seems to be brown tones. This is a conscious technique to create association with old photographs, she says. Herup dyes the wool yarn herself. While I studied the tapestry, Dorthe told me the remarkable tale of the bear hunter. 

 

The Conversation: Hedda Grevle Ottesen and Dorthe Herup

Hedda Grevle Ottesen (HGO) : You have a genuine interest in history, especially family history.  Where does that come from? 

Dorthe Herup (DH): History is what generally occupies me in my designs. I am interested in people of the future, and people who came before us. Especially after my children had children of their own, my interest in family history has grown. I study family trees, learn about family history and hope to give a face to all these people I get to know through this work. I want to know as much as possible about these people I weave; what they were like, what they cared about, and what their values are. 

HGO: Each year the Høstutstilling desires to comment on contemporary tendencies. How do you see yourself in this aspect? 

DH: I was actually surprised that precisely this work was chosen.  It is a type of  work that looks backward more than forward. 

HGO: I think it is understandable that the tapestry was chosen. Our language is taken from a past that is fundamental to a common understanding today. Through attention to history, as you said earlier, we obtain a broader view of the present. 

DH: Oh, I absolutely agree: that the present is anchored in history. Today everything happens on a screen. Information travels quickly, and we seldom look back. We have less time to talk together than before, when people related their histories to younger generations. Today young people grow up with the belief that so much must happen at once, and they forget to think about where we came from. When you weave, you have a genuine opportunity to feel time passing, and experience how exciting history can be. I am interested in people of the future, and people who have lived. 

HGO: Tell us more about the tapestry in the exhibition. 

DH: It was originally commissioned by the great-great-great grandchild of the bear hunter Messelt, and I borrowed it for the exhibition. It took five months to weave, but because I took time to research the figures in the portrait, it’s difficult to know exactly how many hours the work took in total. In the photograph on which the tapestry is based, two elderly people hold hands. It is Messelt and his wife Sigrid Torgalsdatter. I borrowed the photograph from the collection of the Folk Museum. I liked the way they held each other’s hands; it shows how connected they were. They had ten children and ran their farm for 34 years. They lost their eldest son, who would have inherited the farm, in a drowning accident when he was crossing a rapid stream, to the great sorrow of Messelt and Torgalsdatter. There is a seriousness in their eyes. I would say that is the most important thing in my work—to create a relationship to the people I depict, which becomes an emotional expression of history. 

HG: What is it that makes the bear hunter such a compelling figure?

DH: Messelt is a famous person in Norwegian cultural history and there are many accounts of his life. He was a very skilled bear hunter at a time when there was a bounty on bears. On the right side you see his gun, which today hangs in the Norwegian  Skogsmuseum (Forest Museum) in Elverum. In retrospect I see he is also relevant today, for example in Jon Michelet’s books on the wartime sailor Halvor Skramstad, Skogsmatrosen (October Publishing House, 2012–2018). The bears you see in the tapestry also have different personalities, which I tried to depict. In the time it took to weave “Messelt,” I became well acquainted with each bear. All bears are different. 

Dorthe Herup (born in 1953 in Ærø, Denmark) lives in Holmestrand,  She was trained at Kolding Kunsthåndverkskole (Kolding Handcraft School, Sydjylland, Denmark), Statens Håndverks- og kunstindustriskole (National School of Handwork and Industrial Arts (OSLO), and og Bergen Kunsthåndverkskole (Bergen Art and Handcraft School). Among many exhibits, she has had solo shows at the Nord-Trøndelag Fylkesgalleri and Galleri Galleberg in Tønsberg. She has participated in the Høstutstillingen several times, the Norske Kunsthåndverkeres Årsutstilling (Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts Annual Craft Exhibition), the Artapestry exhibition under the auspices of the European Tapestry Forum, and a series of international biennial and triennial exhibits with a focus on textile art. Recently she had a solo exhibit, “Benken,” at the Marstal Søfartsmuseum (Marstal Shipping Museum) in Ærø, Denmark from July to September, 2019. 

 

 

 

 

A Forgotten Artist Remembered: The Tapestry Weaving of Pauline Fjelde

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Editor’s note: This article appeared in 2004, when The Norwegian Textile Letter was only published in print–in black and white. (Vol. XI, No. 1, November 2004). To celebrate the end of the first quarter-century of the newsletter, it is appropriate to revisit this article by Lila Nelson. Lila was the long-time Textile Curator at the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum, one of the founders of The Norwegian Textile Letter, and a mentor to many weavers in the Scandinavian tradition. Lila would love the fact that her words can now be accompanied by many inspiring photos.

By Lila Nelson

Pauline Fjelde. Circa 1900. Photo from the Minnesota Historical Society. 

Pauline Fjelde (1861-1923) deserves recognition and remembrance beyond the circle of family and friends who recall her with love and admiration. Her strength, kindness, and generosity alone make her a special human being. But, in addition, her skill and artistry in embroidery and weaving were of the highest level. Unlike her talented brother Jakob, however, a sculptor whose works are recognized even beyond the Norwegian-American community, Pauline has been largely forgotten. Many Minnesotans know Jakob’s bronze statue on the grounds of Minnehaha Park in Minneapolis, for which he won a medal at the 1893 Columbian Exposition. But very few know that at the same exposition Pauline and her sister Thomane were similarly honored for the first embroidered depiction of the Minnesota State Flag.

Minnesota’s first state flag, embroidered by the Fjelde sisters. Photo from the Minnesota Historical Society. http://collections.mnhs.org/cms/display?irn=10335604

Norwegians in America, published in 2002, for example, mentions Jakob as well as his talented son Paul, but ignores Pauline and Thomane. Attention should be given to the significant production of the Fjelde sisters, who from around 1890 to 1918 supplied the important families of Minneapolis with exquisitely embroidered domestic linens of every kind.

Fjelde Sisters receipt. Photo provided by Charlotte Nordstrom.

They also produced many banners for Norwegian organizations as well as regimental and state flags.

The Luren Singing Society, which is North-America’s oldest male singing society, was formed in 1868. Owned by, and photo provided by, the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum.

And they taught their skills to niece Amy, who continued an embroidery shop in downtown Minneapolis until 1959. This article, however, will focus its concerns on the weaving of Pauline, with the re-entry of Thomane as a partner who, near the end of Pauline’s life, completed a final section of her sister’s most famous work.

A number of factors in Pauline Fjelde’s early life were important to her future development. The role of her family was significant. The sixth child of Paul and Claudine Fjelde, she grew up in a modest but comfortable home near Aalesund, Norway, supported by her father’s furniture business. Known as an accomplished cabinetmaker and wood carver, he must have set a high standard of craftsmanship for all his progeny. Pauline showed an early interest in drawing and painting taught in her grammar school, and she liked working with bright colored yarns while learning handwork from her mother. The family appears to have remained close-knit even as an ocean divided it when emigration to America began.

From left:  Mrs. Claudine Fjelde (wife of Paul, Pauline’s mother); Herman Fjelde; Pauline Fjelde (back); Jakob Fjelde, and Thomane B. Fjelde Hansen (front). Date: ca. 1890. From the Minnesota Historical Society. http://collections.mnhs.org/cms/display?irn=10783197

Another factor, unfortunate in itself, affected Pauline’s early life. Around the age of twelve she caught what the family called a “crippling disease” that spread through her home valley. The result was a permanent curvature of the spine and a general physical frailty that made drawing, painting, and embroidery likely interests for her to develop.

The family began dividing in 1871, when the oldest son Oswald left for America, followed shortly by father Paul, who hoped to relocate his furniture business. But his death in 1873 from smallpox left a wife and seven children in Norway. Oswald remained in the United States, moving to Minneapolis in 1881. Prior to this time, the talented fourth son Jakob left to study in Oslo and then at Copenhagen’s Academy of Fine Arts. During his Copenhagen study, he helped establish Pauline as a needlework instructor in Copenhagen and met his future wife Margarethe Madsen. In 1887, after Jakob had studied in Rome and Pauline had probably returned to Aalesund, the two immigrated to Minneapolis, Minnesota, preceded slightly earlier by Henry, another brother. And a year later, they were followed by sister Thomane, brother Herman, and mother Claudine.

Minneapolis, a rapidly growing city with a Norwegian population of over 12,000, was becoming a cultural center for Norwegian-Americans. Already in 1888 Pauline was listed in the City Directory as an embroidress for a Mrs. Emma Snodgrass, where Thomane also worked while brother Herman attended the University of Minnesota. Only two brothers, Thomas and Klaus, remained in Norway; but regular letters kept them in close touch.

Fjelde Sisters business card. Photo provided by Charlotte Nordstrom.

These ongoing family connections were undoubtedly significant throughout Pauline’s life. In 1890, sister Thomane and Pauline began an embroidery business that continued in various locations until 1918. From about 1910, however, much of the work was done by their niece Amy Fjelde, daughter of brother Oswald. Amy took over the business around 1918, maintaining a shop in downtown Minneapolis until 1959. Other nieces at ages eleven and sixteen, Pauline C. and Fredrikke Fjelde, lived with “Tanta Paula” when their father Herman died. Recollections by the children are of a kind and loving person who was also intelligent, well read, and lively. Her generous nature evidently extended beyond the family, however, because she welcomed others into her home and had a wide varied circle of friends. It appears likely that the family connections must have been invaluable when Pauline began her more and more consuming interest in tapestry.

To begin the story of that development, I would like to quote directly from Gail Aanenson’s unpublished 1971 masters thesis on Pauline Fjelde (Chapter 2, Pgs 17-18):

In December of 1910, Pauline Fjelde returned to Europe again. A writer in the Minnesota Posten in 1965 states that Pauline Fjelde went to Europe at that time to study weaving. She had two aims: one was to create a monument to the American Indian and the other was to begin an arts and crafts movement among the Norwegian-American people comparable to the one in Norway. 34 (“Famous Minneapolis Tapestry at Norweg. Museum for Harald’s Visit,” Minnesota Posten, November 18, 1965)

Miss Fjelde wrote in a Norwegian-America publication, Kvindens Magasin, that for a long time she had wanted to make a large tapestry. She went to Copenhagen where she gave the Danish painter Hans Andersen Brendekilde the assignment of making a preliminary sketch of the tapestry which was based on a theme from Longfellow’s poem, “Hiawatha.” She had earlier embroidered figures of Hiawatha and Minnehaha. 35 (Pauline Fjelde, “Kunstvavning,” Kvindens Magasin, 6:3 March 1915).

In Denmark, she saw the Gobelin weaving made for the Ridersalon in the palace at Fredriksborg and immediately set out to study this weaving in Copenhagen. Later she went to Paris to inspect the weaving at the Gobelin factories where she studied with a Mr. Gabriel Gonnet. She was particularly impressed by the tapestry “Vertumne and Pomone” done by Gorguet which she saw at the Luxembourg Palace. 36 (ibid.)

While in France, she ordered from the Gobelin factory all the yarns she needed for the Hiawatha tapestry. Miss Fjelde had sent to Minneapolis over 500 shades of yarn to be used for the work.37 (Gudrun Hansen, personal interview, Minneapolis, November 1969; Pauline Fjelde Pratt, personal interview, Grandin, North Dakota, April 1970; Florence Fjelde, personal interview, Minneapolis, April 1970)

After studying Gobelin weaving, Miss Fjelde traveled to Norway to learn Norwegian billedvavning (Picture Weaving) techniques. It is not clear where or with whom she studied, but she made reference to Frida Hansen, a Miss Christensen and Karen Meidal in the article written for Kvindens Magasin. 38 (Pauline Fjelde, “Kunstvavning,” Kvindens Magasin, 6:4, March, 1915) From Norway also she had a loom and large quantities of yarn sent to the United States. 39 (Pauline Fjelde Pratt, personal interview, Grandin, North Dakota, May 1970)

Miss Fjelde’s stay in Europe was one and one half years. When she returned to Minneapolis she immediately began weaving.

Pauline’s years of work with embroidery undoubtedly were helpful when she turned to weaving. Even so, her progress in an area requiring different tools, materials, and techniques was impressive. (A 1994 article about the Hiawatha Tapestry in the April Sons of Norway Viking mentions in passing that Fjelde studied “embroidery and weaving” in Copenhagen when living there in the 1880s, but there are no indications that she was weaving at that time.) Within a couple of years of her return from Europe she had produced several worthy pieces and possibly had already warped her large upright loom for her most ambitious work.

We know of two weavings which probably preceded the Hiawatha Tapestry, but we do not
know on what loom they were woven. The first, reproduced in a black and white photo (Figure
54, p. 65) in Gail Aanesen’s thesis, (18-14” x 26-1/8” with fringes on the long sides) appears to be a table runner or possibly simply a study in the type of traditional Norwegian tapestry weaving
sometimes called “rutevev” or square weave, popular especially along Norway’s west coast for
coverlets in various geometric designs. Colors were joined through various ways of interlocking, producing sturdy and often reversible objects. Typical designs were variations of crosses, diamonds, squares, and eight-pointed stars. Whereas many of the older pieces had an all-over design, Pauline, who may have originated her motif, chose a central focus, mirror-imaged on either side. It appears from the photograph as if joins are in double or single interlock.

Photo from the Minnesota Historical Society, “Interior of Pauline Fjelde’s home, 4715 Fifteenth Avenue South, Minneapolis.” No date given. Perhaps the square weave piece on the chair to the front right is the piece described? The cartoon of Hiawatha by Brendekilde can be seen on the far wall and Pauline’s loom to the left of it. http://collections.mnhs.org/cms/display?irn=10704164

The “Eider Duck” tapestry (55-1/2” x 69-1/2”) was designed by the Norwegian artist Thorolf Holmboe, and marked a turn from the traditional rutevev to the “billedvev” (picture weaving) tradition, which introduced other techniques to solve new problems. (Aanenson thesis, Figures
59, 60, 61, pages 71-73) Non-geometric designs could not be woven across the loom but had to
be built up in specific areas, making other types of color joins essential. The Eider Duck does have a woven “frame” which would have necessitated an interlock or sewn join along the sides where the frame joined the central motif. All other lines, however, are exuberantly curvilinear and probably were executed by the Gobelin slit technique. The printed photographs give evidence of slits. Whereabouts of this tapestry are unknown, but it had in the 1970s
showed evidence of damage from dry cleaning and exposure to light.

“The Eider Duck.” Photo provided by Charlotte Nordstrom.

The materials for the previous two tapestries, which I have not seen, are described by Aanenson as linen and wool. My own recent examination of Fjelde’s later works reveal warps of “fiskegarn,” the tightly spun seine cotton used for this purpose by some tapestry weavers in Norway since the 1900s and possibly earlier. The wefts, about which I will go into detail later, are a fine two-ply wool, which Fjelde combined in three strands for rich color variations.

If the Hiawatha Tapestry was begun in 1912, the Animal Kingdom and the Nisser tapestries,
supposedly woven about 1913 and 1915 respectively, must have been done on another perhaps smaller loom. There is no mention in any sources, however, of other looms. (Claudia Pratt, a descendant of Pauline Fjelde’s brother Herman, owns an upright loom given her by her grandmother Pauline Claudine Henchen Fjelde Pratt, who died in 1978; but it probably dates from the thirties and, according to Claudia, was too small for executing the Hiawatha tapestry.) Both of these were designed by others, the Animal Kingdom by Thorold Holmboe and the Nisser by an unknown Norwegian painter; and both incorporate billedvev as well as Gobelin weaving techniques.

Nisser Tapestry

The Nisser tapestry (36” high plus 4” fringes each side, and 25” wide) was woven as seen, from bottom to top. [The tapestry is owned by the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum, cataloged as “The Elves.”] Warp is 12/9 “fiskegarn” [seine twine] set about 10 ends per inch and tied off with overhand knots. The weft is a fine two-ply wool, used usually in three strands, with about 17 picks per inch. All ends have been needled back into the work, so the tapestry is reversible; in fact, the reversed woven initials of the weaver indicate that the side viewed as the front at present was originally the back. Perhaps the extensive fading of colors on the “right” side was the reason for this change.

Photo from the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum.

The Nisser has a childlike appeal, depicting twoof the tiny Norwegian beings who guard the
family farm but resort to mischief if not provided with bowls of porridge. Here the magpie is
taunting them by stealing the spoon from their bowl. The flat background gives way to an impression of perspective and depth, and the large areas of snow are more in evidence than the usual stylized design elements in billedvev. However, the dark outlining of all major objects is typical of billedvev. This outlining, as well as the woven side borders, is achieved through single interlock. Short slits are also used as design elements. While an effective use of color and outlining and a general competence is alrendy evident, some exposed warps and slight
awkwardness in facial delineation makes me surmise that this might have been one of Fjelde’s
earliest tapestries.

Animal Kingdom Tapestry

This detail from “Animal Kingdom” shows a charming fox. Photo provided by Charlotte Nordstrom.

“The Animal Kingdom” (67” high with 6” fringes, 55 ‘4” wide, sett about 10 ends per inch, about 17 picks per inch) portrays whimsical and almost childlike animal figures–a fox, a resting bear and a monumental owl–in a realistic fashion but set against a flat ground filled with stylized mushrooms, flowers, and trees. [The tapestry is owned by the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum; the record is here.) The colors, now very faded, were once bright and warm. These elements relate to billedvev, but they are rendered in primarily Gobelin techniques. There appears to be no evidence of the dovetailing or broad hatching techniques typical of billedvev. Like The Nisser, however, weaving is vertical with top and bottom knotted warp fringes and is completely reversible. Brief slits are much in evidence, but longer joins are single interlocked, as is the occasional dark outlining of motifs.

Photo from the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum.

Of particular and previously unmentioned interest in “The Animal Kingdom” are, along the
lower border, its two woven signatures. To the left are the familiar joined P and F of Pauline
Fjelde. But on the right are a T joined to a lower H, and these must surely identify Thomane Fjelde, married in 1894 to J. Martin Hansen. This makes much more plausible the family’s
information that Thomane completed a final unfinished portion of The Hiawatha tapestry either before or after Pauline’s death in 1923. The skill required for that complex work could hardly have been developed without some considerable prior experience.

Both the Nisser and Animal Kingdom tapestries are in the collection of Vesterheim, the Norwegian-American Museum in Decorah, Iowa.

The Hiawatha Tapestry

While a few Norwegian immigrant women were weaving tapestries during the arts and crafts
movement at the turn of the 20th century, most were in the style and techniques of geometric designs as found on earlier rural Norwegian coverlets. Fjelde instead expressed her interest
in the American Indian through a pictorial tapestry which combined elements of both the
Gobelin and billedvev traditions. Her subject, based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem
The Song of Hiawatha, depicts the young warrior returning to the wigwam of Nokomis and his
beloved Minnehaha with a slain deer over his shoulders.

Photo from the Minnesota Historical Society.

Pauline Fjelde’s bobbins. Photo provided by Charlotte Nordstrom.

The 8 1/2 x 10 foot tapestry is woven with a warp of 12/9 fiskegarn sett at 13 ends per inch and a weft of fine 2 ply wool used in three strands on standard pointed wood bobbins. The warp is very likely to be of Norwegian origin, but the source of the weft is as yet undetermined.

When the Scottish weaver Archie Brennan, once director of the Edinburgh Tapestry Company, examined a sample of the yam in March 2003, he speculated that it might be from Gobelin because it was similar to yarn from that source used in Edinburgh. Attempts are being made to follow up on his suggestion. Family members have indicated a palette of 500 weft colors, which seems somewhat dubious until one recognizes the mathematical possibilities for mixing of initial colors were even fifty or less. Woven on a high warp loom in the typical side to side continental fashion, the weft becomes the vertical hanging element. It is not known if Fjelde wove with the front or the back facing her, nor do we know the nature of the cartoon supplied by the designer Brendekilde. Ends are cut short on the back; some are knotted and others are carried as far as two inches from one motif to another. Border warp fringes on the sides are secured with overhand knots. The piece has two signatures in the lower right, the woven letters “PF” and the embroidered full name “Pauline Fjelde.”

Photo provided by Charlotte Nordstrom.

The style of the main subject is realistic and painterly, faithfully and expertly reproduced in
yarn by the weaver. The sun and shade dappled forest background is achieved through subtle color blending, hatching, and effective line emphasis through open slits. Awareness of perspective is evident in the large figure of Hiawatha, right foreground, turned toward the small figures of the women before their wigwam, and the muted colored Minnehaha Falls behind
them.

The strong four-sided, six-inch wide woven border of the tapestry adds immeasurably to its total effect. It consists of 43 vignettes depicting in stylized silhouetted shapes scenes from the
everyday life of the Indian. All are in a soft grayed brown against a lighter ground with simplified uncluttered forms, giving a sense of ritual importance to each. Seemingly simple in execution, they are framed by narrow single-interlocked borders on each side plus an additional border of stepped diagonals.

Photo provided by Charlotte Nordstrom.

Further, the scene is identified by the expertly woven words from Longfellow’s poem:

Photo provided by Charlotte Nordstrom.

Through their thoughts they heard a footstep,
Heard a rustling in the branches,

And with glowing cheek and forehead,
With the deer upon his shoulders,
Suddenly from out the woodlands,

Hiawatha stood before them.

Reverse of “Hiawatha,” provided by the Minnesota Historical Society. Curator Sondra Reierson wrote, ” The reverse was most useful for establishing true color – fading from light exposure is limited, but noticeable in direct comparison.”

Leg detail; photo provided by the Minnesota Historical Society.

Displayed numerous times in Midwestern museums, including the Minneapolis Institute of Arts and the Walker Museum as well as Vesterheim in Decorah, lowa, Marion Nelson also considered the Hiawatha Tapestry a perfect work for his NORSK I AMERIKA exhibition in Hamar, Norway, in 1988. “It represents,” he said, “Norwegian craftsmanship applied to a distinctly American subject. It is truly Norwegian-American.

As we recognize the broad renewal of appreciation and respect for tapestry weaving in much of our world today, we can also laud Pauline Fjelde for her mastery of the traditions of medieval Europe as well as the billedvev tradition of Norway and for skillfully making them both her own.

Editor’s Addendum:

Special thanks to Sondra Reierson, curator at the Minnesota Historical Society; Charlotte Pratt Nordstrom; and Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum for the photos in this reprint.

The Hiawatha Tapestry has been acquired and conserved by the Minnesota Historical Society with funds from the Paul D. F. Pratt and Marguerite Olson Pratt Fund at InFaith Foundation. Paul Douglas Fjelde Pratt was Pauline G. Fjelde’s great nephew, Pauline C. Fjelde Pratt’s son, and Charlotte Pratt Nordstrom’s father.

Charlotte Pratt Nordstrom, a relative of Pauline Fjelde, added information that reinforces the challenge of this huge tapestry. “Pauline worked on her tapestry for 10 years, from 1913 to 1923, and passed away just before it was completed in 1923. Her sister, Thomane, completed the unfinished portion of the border.” 

Information on the Hiawatha Tapestry will be available on the website of the Minnesota Historical Society via Collections Online in the coming months (item 2018.73.1). It is not on view currently.

William Becker wrote an article highlighting Pauline Fjelde in Minnesota History: “A Theory: The Origin of the Minnesota State Flag,” Spring 1992, p. 3+. There aren’t definitive answers to why the design of the state flag was chosen, but it is undisputed as to who embroidered it. “…flag was created for the Chicago World’s Fair, where it apparently “adorned the platform of the Woman’s Building, [and] was admired by all.” In fact, its silk embroidery brought a gold medal to Norwegian immigrant sisters Pauline and Thomane Fjelde of Minneapolis, who had been commissioned to make it.”

The Red Thread: A Monumental Tapestry by Else Marie Jakobsen

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Excerpted by the book Levd Liv, Vevd Liv (Woven Life) by Janne Leithe.

Translated by Robbie LaFleur.

Translator’s note:  A two-story-high tapestry, “The Red Thread” by Else Marie Jakobsen, hangs in the Science Building at the University of Bergen. Weavers will no doubt want to peer closely at the surface, and examine the thick warp threads weighted at the bottom with small stones. You should! I’ve managed to set off the alarm both times I visited this monumental tapestry, by getting too close. 

Else Marie Jakobsen was born in 1927, lived in Kristiansand, and died in 2012. Luckily, author Janne Leithe was able to interview Jakobsen extensively near the end of her life, allowing us to know a great deal about her thoughts behind many of her tapestries. This excerpt is used with permission. 

The Science Building at the University of Bergen (Realsfagbygget), built in concrete in 1977, was designed by architect Harald Ramm Østgaard.  The architectural style was called brutalism because the use of unfinished concrete gives a massive and brutal effect. Jacobsen won a closed competition for the decoration of the vestibule in the science building with her piece “Den Røde Tråd” (The Red Thread).  She always embraced the context and took it into consideration when designing her sketches. In the 1970s the sciences were a masculine and technical milieu. She felt that the masculine-dominated environment needed something soft, warm, and earthy. She chose to give women and women’s work a central place, and chose tapestry as her point of departure; to paraphrase, women who are woven and women who weave. In the huge tapestry there are repeated references to the unknown and little-known weavers who were overlooked and undervalued in their time. She created a collage of various motifs from various eras, divided in three sections. These are taken from the Middle Ages and in the years up to her own time. Else Marie Jakobsen used “The Red Thread” to create and draw a picture of all the women who have been important transmitters of our history through their work at the loom. 

The challenge of this project was working with the very prominent ramp that winds up three stories in the massive building. The ramp dominates the entrance, and Else Marie Jakobsen had a gray granite wall at her disposal, circled with steel and concrete. The wall that “The Red Thread” would inhabit had marked divisions, a problem Jacobsen solved by creating the tapestry in three sections, each six meters high and four meters wide.  

It’s difficult to get a photo of the entire piece. Jan Mostrom standing on the ramp gives an idea of the scale. Photo: Robbie LaFleur

She used the ramp’s zig-zag form as inspiration and let the form of the tapestry create a fishnet pattern.  The dominant ramp prevents the public from seeing the tapestry in its entirety; therefore, she chose fragments of art and textile history that can be read independently. The tapestry can be read in this way, whether or not the viewers understand its entirety or have previous knowledge.  Those in the art world will recognize motifs, and others will see glimpses of an important and partially hidden textile art history. According to Hjørdis Danbolt, the unwoven sections of warp (devoid of motifs) are important indicators of the parts of textile art history and tapestry history that are missing. That history is fragmented, as depicted in “The Red Thread.” Here the viewers themselves must participate and contribute to bring out The Red Thread’s unwritten and unwoven history. 

The fragments are assembled in a collage of varying styles and expression in the fishnet pattern.  To unify the tapestry and at the same time show a clear message, she brought it together with a distinct color palette. Red and pink are dominant, contrasted with black, gray, blue, and white.  The cotton warp was dyed gray, and natural-colored linen was used. This work required a great deal of planning. 250 kilos of yarn was wound and dyed. The Red Thread used handspun spelsau wool, silk, nylon, and clipped lengths of seine twine for variation in the surface. Tightly woven sections of the fishnet pattern mixed with unwoven areas of warp. To get the weaving to hang in place, Jakobsen chose stones with holes in the middle, tied at the bottom of the warp. She picked the stones herself on the beaches in Møns Klint in Denmark. 

“…Here there is not only tradition, but also a renewal. What a brilliant idea has been carried out,” wrote the historian Hjørdis Danbolt in her report on “The Red Thread” in Bergens Tidende on June 17, 1982.  She meant that the ingenious thing Jakobsen had done was to weave the history of the forgotten women, and that the history was finally told. Textile history had been visually depicted, and strategically placed in a public setting. The history could have been placed on a dusty bookshelf, but it was now visible to hundreds of people. The unknown weavers finally found a place in history through Jakobsen’s commitment and creation. 

In the first tapestry Else Marie Jakobsen began by showing the women who wove images of men from Viking times, the Middle Ages, and up to 1650. War, weapons, and men on horses were repeated images. Stories from the early Middle Ages were depicted on meters-long pieces, made with both embroidery and tapestry. Jakobsen chose motifs from 800-1700, including the Baldisholteppet, dated from around 1150. The section she chose of that tapestry, found in 1879, shows a rider in armor and a man with a crown, possibly a king.

She also chose motifs from traditional woven coverlets (åkletepper), generally abstract and geometric patterns.

This section echos rutevev, or square weave coverlets.

In the lower right corner is a “virgin” from the Wise and Foolish Virgins tapestries, which Jakobsen also referenced in another of her tapestries, “Elsk din Neste.”

She finished the tapestry with the initials of the unknown weaver. By writing them down, she gives identity to the anonymous. Other well-known textiles she references are the weavings from the Oseberg Viking ship, found in 1903. The weaving fragments are from a pictorial frieze and dated around 820, among the oldest found in Norway. She also used these as inspiration the following year when she wove “Fortidsminner” (Historical Memories) for Sen Rådhus (City Hall) in Tønsberg. Jacobsen also used a motif from the Sandsvaer antipendium from 1625, showing Christ’s crucifixion. 

Christ on the cross, from the Sandsvaer antipendium

In the center section she weaves motifs taken from the artists Hannah Ryggen and Frida Hansen. She admired them both greatly, and they served as sources of inspiration. In these thirty square meters, she praises her sources.

She also took a small detail from Gerhard Munthe. He painted cartoons for tapestries, for which he was best known in his time. But Munthe didn’t have the same connection with the materials of tapestry, as he had others weave for him. Jacobsen said that this could be noted in his tapestries, that they were a bit stiff in character.

Frida Hansen (1855-1931) was best known for her Art Nouveau style.  She received a gold medal for her tapestry “Melkeveien,” (Milky Way) in Paris in 1900, the highest honor an artist could receive at that time. Still, Hansen had problems being accepted as an artist in her own country, at that time or afterwards. Much of this had to do with the wave of National Romantic sentiment in Norway at the turn of the century. Norwegian critics felt that her style was too European. Frida Hansen’s work was primarily acquired by applied art museums in Central Europe, where her work was more right for the times. Wild roses and stylized flowers are characteristic of her tapestries. Jacobsen used her characteristic motifs and flowers in a collage-like manner. She also includes details from Hansen’s works, “Flyvende Villender” (Flying Wild Geese) and “Juni” (June), curtains in transparency technique from 1918. Hansen developed a transparency technique, in which she left portions of the warp threads unwoven. In “The Red Thread,” Jakobsen was directly inspired by that technique. 

A clear homage to Frida Hansen

Hannah Ryggen (1894-1970) was the artist for whom Else Marie Jakobsen had the most admiration and respect.  Hannah Ryggen was Swedish but settled in Ørland in Trøndelag with her Norwegian husband, Hans Ryggen. She was revolutionary in that she changed tapestry weaving from the creation of decorative textiles to a form of art. She is best known for her political images, especially those critical of Nazism and facism.  As the first artist to have a tapestry accepted for the Høstutstilling, (The Fall Exhibition, a prominent annual Norwegian exhibit), in 1964, she paved the way for textile art and tapestry.  In the same year she was Norway’s first female artist in the Venice Biennial, one of the word’s most important annual exhibitions. In 2012 several of her tapestries were included in Dokumenta, which is held every five years in Kassel, Germany. Hannah Ryggen’s art has had a renaissance in contemporary art. She donated several of her tapestries to the Nordenfjeldske Kunstindustrimuseum in Trondheim, where they are a part of the permanent exhibit. Jacobsen chose details from “Mors Hjerte” (Mother’s Heart), which depicts a mother’s concern for her sick child, and “Kaj Munk,” which is a homage to the poet and priest Kaj Munk, who was killed by Nazis. She also chose details from the tapestry “Karsten i Vevehimmelen” (Karsten in Weaving Heaven). Ryggen was a great admirer of the painter Ludvig Karsten. To finish Else Marie Jakobsen “signed” Frida Hansen’s and Hannah Ryggen’s signatures clearly where she repeated their motifs. 

Left: Else Marie Jakobsen paid homage to Hannah Ryggen’s tapestry, “Mor’s Hjerte” (Mother’s heart). Right: A detail of Ryggen’s “Mor’s Hjerte.”

The last section is in praise and recognition of her own weaving colleagues. She chose a dozen artists from her own time who are reproduced in the final 30 square meters. Jakobsen reproduced a motif from each of the artists, and wove in their initials so that it is easier to recognize them. She began with Synnove Anker Aurdal, who was a leader in Norwegian abstract art.

Synnøve Aurdal’s initials are at the top left.

She also chose motifs from the artists Elise Jakkheln (EJ), Brit Fuglevaag (BF), Ann Sønju (US), Ingunn Skogholt (IS), Kjellaug Hølaas (KH), Nina Gjestland (NG), Eli Marie Johnsen (EMJ), Eli Nordbø (EN), Karin Sunday (KS), Sidsel Karlsen (SK), Bodil Cappelen (BC), Tove Pedersen (TP), Inger Johanne Brauteset (IJB), and herself. She displays them chronologically—the eldest reference to the left—and finished with her close colleague Eli Nordbø. Nordbø was Jakobsens assistant in weaving “The Red Thread.” It took two years, with assistants, to complete Norway’s largest tapestry. 

Jakobsen’s assistant, Eli Nordbø, is commemorated on the lower right hand side of the final panel.

Vladimira Fillion-Wackenreuther: Dress Me Up

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“Dress Me Up.” 24.5” W (+ 3.5” long fringes) x 16″ H

1. What is your artistic background? My entire life I have been creating through needlepoint, sewing, embroidery, quilting and patchwork. My grandmother was a professional dress maker and I was exposed from the time I was a toddler to needles, fabrics and fashion. Later in life, in 2008, I became interested in the Fibre Arts. I learned to spin yarn and weave tapestry. From that time I have woven many tapestries and I became a member of the Canadian Tapestry Network, the American Tapestry Alliance and Arts Council of Surrey, BC, Canada.  I took courses at Capilano University in BC where I studied weaving, dyeing and design at the Textile Art department. I reside in British Colombia, Canada. My work has been displayed at many exhibitions throughout Canada, United States and Australia.

2. What is your creative process when you weave a tapestry? Designs for my tapestries emerge from the books that I’m reading, from the different subjects of the stories, and many times from studying the themes for exhibitions I would like to enter. Some of my tapestries grow from the color or the color combinations which appeal to my feeling to view the world through naïve fantasy.  I work with collages of different photos and with swatches of paper. The drawing is only the undeveloped idea and through the process of weaving, I eliminate, add and alter the tapestry as if it’s talking to me. I spin and dye most of the yarn for my project. 

3. Were you familiar with the Baldishol tapestry before this exhibit? Yes. When studying Tapestry weaving at Capilano University in British Colombia, which was one part of the Textile Art program, we were going through the history and the origin of famous tapestries around the world.

4. What draws you to the original Baldishol tapestry? What fires your imagination? I love Naïve Art and many of my tapestries that I create reflect this style. I found so many small details, beautiful color combination and I was researching for more information about it through the internet. I purchased the book from Norwegian Tapestries  by Aase Bay Sjovold for further information. 

Paper doll-like headgear accompanied by the wave-like border of the original tapestry

5. How did your piece reinterpret the original? I was curious about the design of the clothing at the time the original tapestry was designed; this was the base for my reinterpretation. I reinterpreted the original tunics and made them like paper clipping art.

6. How did your piece challenge your technical and artistic skills? I weave some of my tapestries from the back and some from the front. The Baldishol tapestry was made with great technical skill of the weavers so my choice for weaving the piece from the back was easy.

Vladimira wove from the back

I wove on a vertical loom from the side. Because I planned to weave with many details, I warped my loom the first time with a sett of 12 EPI. I decided to use Norwegian Spelsau yarn,which I mostly hand dyed with Cushings dyes. After weaving couple of inches I had to change the sett to 10 EPI and rewarp the loom again. 

The image is woven on its side.

As the progress of the weaving was going I had to make some adjustments in my primary design–sometimes for technical reasons, sometimes for new ideas when the tapestry spoke to me differently. I use pick and pick often, so that wasn’t a problem, but a special “jagged” technique for the jagged looking effect I used only once on one of my tapestries and this was really challenging for me. It is also a challenge to work with a cartoon, which I designed on graph paper. I love all these new challenges!

the tapestry cartoon

7. What do you wish we knew about the original tapestry and its makers? I would like to know exactly the time when the original tapestry was woven (this was very important part of my study about the clothing). What was the warp sett on the loom and which type of wool was to use for the warp? How many weavers were working on the tapestry and for how long? Who did the design for this one and for other tapestries? What is the appearance of the colors of the weft today because the yarn was dyed many years ago with natural dyes? It is a real pity that we have only a fragment of the original longer weaving.

See more of Vladimira Fillion-Wackenreuther’s work at: vladimiratapestry.com, and see “Dress Me Up” in Minneapolis in the summer of 2020. 

The Baldishol: A Medieval Norwegian Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles

 June 26-August 30, 2020 Norway House, Minneapolis, Minnesota Opening Party: Friday, June 26, 2020, 5-8 pm 

Inspired by the Baldishol Tapestry

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The previous issue of The Norwegian Textile Letter included articles on the Baldishol Tapestry and a Call for Art for the exhibit of Baldishol-inspired textile works to be held at Norway House in Minneapolis, Minnesota, beginning in June, 2020. 

The Baldishol: A Medieval Norwegian Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles

 June 26-August 30, 2020
Norway House, Minneapolis, Minnesota
Opening Party: Friday, June 26, 2020, 5-8 pm 

There is Still Room for Your Creativity

The response to the Call for Art has been outstanding; nearly 20 entries have been accepted–from the U.S., Canada, and England so far–all with thoughtful interpretation based on the theme, design elements, colors, or technique of the original.  

Consider creating a piece for this show; space is available for up to 35 Baldishol-inspired works. Registration is open until December, or until the space if filled. 

A Few Examples of Work Underway

Garment-maker and Quilter Laurie Bushbaum is creating an appliquéd and quilted coat inspired by the April man, a seed bearer. Look for transformed vines and flowers from the Baldishol Tapestry, medieval text, and even pockets to bear future seeds. Deborah Lawson was also inspired by the tunic of the April man, and will be re-creating his bell-sleeved tunic in hand-woven silk, with tablet-woven edges in a design that echos the border of the Baldishol Tapestry. She wrote, “I am attempting to replicate the feel of the original tunic while using modern sensibilities to expand on it.”   

Deborah Lawson has started dyeing silk for her Baldishol exhibit piece

Do you see the spots on the Baldishol horse?  They will appear again on wide stripes in shades of indigo in a wool rug by Jan Mostrom, and on a thick pile rya by Katherine Buenger. 

Melanie Groves was intrigued by the calendar aspect, and will create a 3-dimensional felted panel for another month: Sólmánuður (sun month), the third month of summer in the old Norse calendar. It will include a Viking longboat, a solar image, and a tessellation of fish. Lisa Bauch will represent the months of April and May from the Baldishol Tapestry with two long, narrow rugs (16” x 9’). Their abstract designs will be based on the color relationships in the original tapestry. 

Medieval techniques and materials are integral to many pieces. Kelsey Skodje’s embroidery on linen will include floss spun with a medieval-style drop spindle.

A wide range of textile techniques are represented, including fabric block-printed designs using botanical inks and dyes  by Amy Axen, and mixed media textile collage by Amy Ropple. 

Appropriate to an exhibit honoring the Baldishol Tapestry, several tapestries will be featured. Vladimira Fillion-Wackenreuther is using traditional Norwegian billedvev (tapestry) technique, design, yarn, and colors for her tapestry. See this clever concept sketch of the men and their costumes in “Dress Me Up.  

Lindsey Marshall designed a tapestry banner after learning that the Baldishol fragment may have been part of a long frieze. In her concept sketch, the wings at the end reference the Baldishol birds.

The Baldishol Tapestry is a physical embodiment of a past time. Sally Reckert will weave with Scandinavian rare breed wool warp and weft using Norwegian tapestry techniques in an image that brings the Baldishol to today. The horse, birds, and standing person from the Baldishol are joined by children marching behind the horse for action on climate change. Mark your calendar–you’ll want to see her sketch turned into a timeless tapestry. 

More information: Call for Art 

For inspiration, see these articles in the Norwegian Textile Letter:  “Baldisholteppe: A Treasure from the Middle Ages;” “The Baldishol Tapestry in the White House,” which originally appeared in the Kulturhistorisk Leksikon (Cultural History Encyclopedia), published by Fylkesarkivet i Sogn og Fjordane (the County Archives of Sogn and Fjordane); and “The Baldishol Tapestry–The White House Replica and Others.”