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

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By Robbie LaFleur

The Baldishol tapestry, woven around 1180.

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

Sharon Marquardt, “Birthday Blizzard”

Sharon described how the Baldishol inspired her image.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

icelandic varafeldur knot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Annual Exhibition of Folk Art in the Norwegian Tradition–Not this Year!

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Each year Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum holds an absorbing exhibition of folk art in the Norwegian tradition. Visitors examine examples of weaving, knife-making, rosemaling, woodcarving, and chip-carving by renowned craftspeople. The Norwegian Textile Letter features the weaving entries each year–until this unprecedented coronavirus year. The exhibition was not held! We can only hope that people are working on extra-special pieces for 2021. For now, here are a handful of early entries to the exhibition instead, from years before the Norwegian Textile Letter began in 1993.  

1981

The National Exhibition of Folk Art in the Norwegian Tradition began in 1967; weaving was added as a category in 1981. A jacket woven by Marie Nodland of St. Paul, Minnesota, won a blue ribbon that first year. It’s too bad the photo doesn’t show the rya pile inside.

The diamond twill reverses to rya (pile weave) and there are handknit collar and cuffs.

1985

In 1985 Phyllis Waggoner of Minneapolis won two ribbons. She won a blue ribbon and the Handweavers Guild of America Award for a rug done in bound rosepath technique. (wool weft, 12/6 cotton seine twine warp, 8 epi) This rug was also featured in an article by Phyllis, “Boundweave: Learning from the Past,” in Weaver’s Journal, Spring 1986.

Phyllis Waggoner also won a white ribbon for this piece in four-shaft bound rosepath technique. (wool weft, 12/6 cotton seine twine warp, 8 epi)

1987

John Skare won the Best of Show award and a blue ribbon in 1987 for this handwoven rya wall hanging. It was also purchased for the museum collection. It was created with handspun wool yarns and wool blankets scraps from the Faribault Woolen Mill.  Wool carpet mill ends were used for the weft.

1989?

Laura Demuth remembered that this doubleweave piece was exhibited at Vesterheim before 1996. She wove it for her husband on their tenth anniversary in 1988, so 1989 is a good guess! 

As more entries from the early years of the exhibitions turn up, we’ll continue to share. 

RETRO REPRINT: Voss Ryer – Traditional Bedcover and Contemporary Art

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By Marta Kløve Juuhl

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

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

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

I will describe:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Traditions in use

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How to make ryer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The variety of design

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inspiration for making new ryer

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

But still, I think we need such textiles because:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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By Robbie LaFleur

RETRO REPRINTS–A New Occasional Series

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

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

National Exhibition of Folk Art in the Norwegian Tradition

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is Norwegian Weaving? (In a Nutshell)

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By Robbie LaFleur

Are you an admirer of fine folk art craftsmanship?

Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum recently published the third in a series of beautifully-illustrated pamphlets on major types of folk art in their collection: rosemaling, woodcarving, and weaving. They serve as primers for first-time visitors, and show knowledgeable craftspeople the depth and beauty of artifacts owned by the museum. They are also valuable resources for Folk Art School students. 

“What is Rosemaling?“

After noted rosemaler Marlys Hammer died, several of her friends donated funds for Vesterheim to create a booklet about Norwegian rose painting. It focuses on describing and distinguishing between regional rosemaling styles. Photos of artifacts from the Vesterheim collection illustrate the text by Judy Ritger and Patty Goke. 

With the success of this booklet, the Museum obtained grant funding for two more booklets.

 “What is Norwegian Woodcarving?“

Woodcarver Phil Odden describes traditional techniques you might recognize–like wood burning, chip carving, and acanthus carving–and some you might not know, like kolrosing (a delicate incising technique) and kroting (carving into dark-painted wood). The booklet focuses on carved decorative techniques, and the illustrations show some different forms created with woodworking (such as bentwood and stave containers).

“What is Norwegian Weaving?“

I was asked to write the weaving booklet, which was a privilege–and a challenge. Hmmm….distill all of Norwegian weaving into several paragraphs in a 10-page booklet. I worked with Curator Laurann Gilbertson, who suggested we focus on coverlet techniques, partly because those techniques are taught in weaving classes at Vesterheim. We brainstormed about which Vesterheim-owned weavings would best represent the several techniques chosen.

Once I was over the hump of “oh my gosh, how will this ever come together,” the entire process went more smoothly than I anticipated. It couldn’t have happened–none of these booklets could have happened–without the expertise and editing of Laurann Gilbertson, and Charlie Langton’s beautiful layouts. Thanks also to Lea Lovelace, head of Vesterheim’s Folk Art School, for her editing; she brought clarity to the text by reading with a non-weaver’s eye.

Print copies of the booklet will be available at the museum. If you would like to print it out, here is a pdf: “What is Norwegian Weaving?,”

We hope to see you at a Vesterheim Folk Art School class soon! 

Weaving and Fiber Classes at Vesterheim Folk Art School

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By Robbie LaFleur

Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum in Decorah, Iowa, has offered weaving classes since Lila Nelson, former Curator of Textiles, taught her first class in 1970.  Appropriately, the weaving studio is named after Lila. That means that  2020 marks the 50th anniversary of Norwegian weaving education at the Museum and Folk Art School. 

In addition to American teachers steeped in Norwegian techniques, instructors from Norway are on the roster nearly every year. The first Norwegian instructor in 1978 was Elsa Eikås Bjerck, and the most recent instructor was Marta Kløve Juuhl in 2018. Marta’s 2013 classes in warp-weighted loom weaving were so popular that she returned in 2018 to teach another set of students. Marta is likely responsible for the building of many warp-weighted looms since her classes.  In particular, Melba Granlund from Minneapolis, Minnesota, has become very proficient and is teaching warp-weighted loom classes at the Weavers Guild of Minnesota and the American Swedish Institute. Vesterheim Folk Art School has been deeply influential in building a strong base of Scandinavian weaving expertise and interest among American weavers. 

Elsa Eikås Bjerck was the first Norwegian instructor to teach weaving at Vesterheim. This piece replicates an early bed pillow from Jølster in Sogn, Norway, in plant-dyed wool on linen. The mittens were done in nålbinding, an ancient looping technique. Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum

Vesterheim Folk Art School typically offers eight or nine weaving classes each year. Many students return for classes frequently. Besides excellent instructors, students appreciate the museum collection; it’s a special perk to view many historical artifacts woven in the technique you are studying.

This is one of my favorite tapestries from the Vesterheim collection that I show to my Billedvev students. Photo: Robbie LaFleur

Students are asked on their evaluation sheets, “What brought you to Vesterheim and what keeps you coming back?“ Many people write a variant of this comment: “the beauty of the museum collections, the buildings, and lovely Decorah.” Decorah is a friendly, walkable town with great restaurants, surrounded by beautiful walking and biking trails. 

Weaving is core to the Folk Art School, but other fiber class offerings have been growing. One Norwegian instructor for 2020, Kristi Nilsen, will be teaching a knitting class. 

The Nordic Knitting Weekend actually consists of two separate tracks of four classes each.  Class offerings that weekend include Introduction to Sámi Knitting, Norwegian Hat, Singlade Balls, Faroese Footlets, Introduction to Norwegian Knitting, and Boat’s Bow—A Sámi Mitten. 

Class enrollment for 2020 begins on December 9; visit vesterheim.org for class details, and sign up early! 

Further reading on Vesterheim classes:  

Granlund, Melba. “Warp-Weighted Loom Classes at Vesterheim, July 2013.” Norwegian Textile Letter, November 2013. 

Granlund, Melba. “Warped (or Wrapped?) in Time.” Norwegian Textile Letter, August 2018. 

LaFleur, Robbie. “Marta and the Potato Analogy,” robbielafleur.com, August 24, 2013.

LaFleur, Robbie. “Traditional Icelandic Rya Knots: A Contemporary Adaptation.” robbielafleur.com, August 20, 2013.

 

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.”

On the Road With Vesterheim: Appreciating the Simple Loop

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By Kate Martinson

In the early 70s, when I began my real love affair with fibers, I thought that weaving and spinning were the end-all, but as the decades flip by I find ever more techniques to be delighted by. The Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum has been a great asset and support in my explorations and research.  The 2019 Vesterheim Textile Tour was an overflow repeat of the 2017 itinerary, with a variety of visits in Denmark and Southwest Norway.  The experience literally “threw me for a loop.”

Loop History

Simple blanket stitch from “A Stitch in Time” (link below).

I will wager that for many of us, one of our first textile experiences included simple embroidery. I recall the blanket stitch as part of my first attempts with a needle and thread. I am not alone in this entry experience. Little did we know we were using one of the oldest textile techniques humans created—the blanket stitch, a form of simple looping. This basic stitch predated even the invention of the needle, which archaeologists suggest was at least 61,000 years ago and was discovered in Sibudu Cave, South Africa. That first blanket stitch, probably done using fingers and fiber strands or sinew, has a whole family of variants.  It was surprising to me to see all the simple looping that kept showing up as we traveled across Southern Scandinavia.

Textile specialists and curators alike define looping using Irene Emery’s book The Primary Structure of Fabrics.  Looping is a single element thread. Emery states that looping is “a technique that has a ‘curved enclosing boundary.’ It is an active element which doubles back on itself to form a complete closed loop.” The single element, or thread, goes through a loop by means of sewing or netting and continuing on to create and sew through adjacent loops. It includes a variety of categories from half hitch in rope work to the blanket stitch used to edge woven fabrics, from a sewn edging for warps while on the loom to simple and complex cutwork embroidery lace in Asia and Europe. This stitch is a global work-horse.

If you are in need of a quick but good review, take a look at “A Stitch in Time: The Buttonhole Stitch and Blanket Stitch.”

Inspiration from Ancient Textiles

Our first full day on the trip found us in Copenhagen at the National Museum of Denmark, at the Viking and Middle Age textile exhibitions. We were introduced to a variety of clothing pieces, jewelry, etc. in two separate galleries. One of the pieces given special note was the Viking Mammen Mantle. 

We were able to take a peek at the fiber strips from a key burial find from the winter of 970 to 971 AD. The high status owner wore these strips either as decorative bands or as a form of headwear.  Discovered in 1868, there has yet to be consensus about use but materials are principally silk and silver and gold thread, and techniques include cardweaving and nålebinding, in Danish. This flexible and complex looping technique is more advanced than the simple looping of blanket stitch, as the needle passes in a variety of directions in the work. The fabric can be made more dense, variously shaped, thin but strong, and flexible with these sorts of variations. Since there were others on the trip who practice this complex looping technique to create items such as hats, mittens, cowls and socks, it was exciting for many of us to see this important and high status archeological find. For those aware of nålbinding, the “mammen stitch” in current nålbinding is named for the work on these strips on display in Copenhagen.

In the late 1980s I was able to study these and other nålbinding items at this museum but because of rarity, these treasures are behind glass and impossible to photograph.  The easiest way to see these pieces up close and to learn more is on the National Museum website.

Looping at the Greve Museum

The courtyard of the Greve Museum…many years ago.

After adventures in Copenhagen, we headed into the countryside and the Greve  Museum, notable for its collection of Hedebosom. This white on white embroidered cutwork is special to the rich farming area of Hedebo. The group toured the farmstead and its extensive and varied collection of the local cutwork. We also had an option to participate in an introductory class with a local teacher. Having the opportunity to study a variety of examples up close and to try our hands at the technique reinforced that looping appears in a variety of forms and uses. In one piece the looping might hold together the decoratively strands of cut fabric, and in another the loops are connected to look like lace.

Hedebo lace from the Greve Museum

Edi Thorstensson, a participant on the 2017 Vesterheim trip to Denmark, wrote about her time at the Greve Museum for the Norwegian Textile Letter.  To learn more about Hedebosom, see her article on the collection and class at the museum with Laila Glienke, “Hedebosyning at Greve Museum.”

Going Back in Time

The Vikings used looping along seams.

Getting off the bus, who knew that in a few hours we would travel back in time through rural 18th century Denmark, to Viking times, and to Iron age living and the mysteries of the stone age?  We did all that at Sagnlandet Lejre, Land of Legends—and with time out for lunch!

This museum-like park is developed as a place to explore experimental archeology, especially in the workshops, including a pottery, textile workshop, and smithy.  There trained staff strive to study, experiment and reproduce handcraft from the past. No surprise that our group enjoyed the various historical clusters of houses and farms. However, the real treat for us was time spent in and around the textile workshop.  

Reconstructed Viking skirt with looping along the seams

We entered when the workshop was very busy, among other things, outfitting some teens in Viking garb for their stay at the park. In my quest for looping, I asked the staff at work around a big welcoming table. One excited specialist led me to shelving along one wall of the busy workshop where samples were arranged to illustrate basic joining techniques used from Viking times onward. The handspun cloth pieces included different applications for the blanket stitch and its loop cousins to create neat, firm, sometimes elastic, and often visually pleasing seams. Imagine finding such interesting uses of simple looping when I had hardly hoped for it!

To get more of the flavor of Sagnlandet, refer to Solveig Pollei’s article, “Sagnlandet Lejre – the Land of Legends (and Textiles).” 

End of Year at Skals

Before leaving Denmark our group had an inspiring experience at the year-end celebration at Skals Design og Håndarbejdsskole, the High School for Design and Handwork, in the small town of Skals.  The day-long celebration included a student fashion show, an outdoor craft fair for local artists, tours of studios, and displays of student work.  We spent hours soaking up the fine design and technical work of these proud students and craftspeople.  While the fashion show was avant garde, much of the student work represented techniques easy to identify from our own fiber work and exploration. Where to start? Weaving of all sorts, knitting, dyeing, printing, spinning, and embroidery were on display. The items were well made, using mostly traditional practices, with a focus on good design.  We were inspired by the work of these mostly young students. As for looping, it was wonderfully represented in a variety of elegant nålbinding articles.  In addition, various forms of embroidery, both plain and cutwork of loops and regular stitches, were on display, looking fresh and new. For those wondering about the future of folk art and handcrafts, this visit was an inspiration.

On to Norway for Hands-On Classes 

Taking the ferry to Norway signaled the second part of the trip and the adventures ahead. Our Norwegian  adventures included an optional half day of ‘hands-on’ work on the 17th of May.  To miss as few of the festivities as possible, early in the day a number of us gathered to attend mini classes organized by our leader, Laurann Gilbertson. Finger woven bands, Singlada balls and Hardanger embroidery classes were offered.  Two of the three options were based on the use of loops, although a quick look at the balls or embroidery would not automatically make the association with a needle formed loop.  

Vesterheim Curator Laurann Gilbertson tries her hand at Hardangersom.

Barbara Berg led the intrepid Hardanger class. Though the technique carries a place name from Norway, its origin comes from much farther south, from India and Persia to Italy, where it evolved into Reticella and Venetian Lacework, Dutch and Danish cutwork, Ruskin Work and many more—including the famous Norwegian drawn work, Hardanger embroidery. Among the many stitches and techniques included in Hardangersom, the classic and important single loop is seen. One of the most important stitches in cutwork is a buttonhole stitch, which keeps the cut edges from raveling. It can also help by filling in the shapes that have been removed with a lace-like look. As in Hedebosom and other techniques in this family, the thread closely stitched in this way also adds texture and shine to the pattern.

Making Singlada balls was another choice.  In northern Europe and southern Scandinavia, the ancient detached blanket stitch was used to cover handfuls of yarn scraps to create a toy ball for a child. A needle and scrap yarn are employed to make a covering for the ball, usually employing decorative geometric patterns. The detached blanket stitch was used in the same manner American natives used when constructing the bottoms of arrow quivers, and prehistoric folks used to make bags to carry their belongings. Medieval English over-decorated clothing with this same technique in silk gold and silver threads. Making a singlada ball is one of a wealth of applications of the simple loop. That day I taught them to squeeze thrums into balls, wrap and tack their ball shapes with scrap yarn and add colorful yarns using the detached blanket stitch needle-looped into a fabric coverings for their balls. Our group, while trying a new technique, were helping to protect and popularize this tradition and become familiar with new textile options.   

While two classes involved looping in some form, the third class worked on finger-woven sock garters, hosebånd, with Ingeborg Monson, our Norwegian tour leader. While no loops were involved in that project, note the book mentioned last on the information list below, for a great compendium of using loops and other sewn stitching in woven projects.

Factory Time

Our stop at the Sjølingstad Uldvarefabrik in Mandal allowed a tour of a living history textile factory.  Built in 1894, in it its day this mill spun yarn, dyed wool, wove cloth and finished that fabric in a variety of ways. It still carries on many of those same activities,  but it cannot exist with that revenue alone. It has been designated as a national monument for the textile industry in Norway. In a spinning and weaving mill one does not expect ‘exotic’ textiles like simple loops—so I thought.  However, around one corner in the finishing department were hung decorative blankets that had been spun, dyed and woven. Before it would be a soft, warm, long lasting item two additional steps were needed. The blankets had to be finished or “fulled” by brushing with teasel heads and lastly, the edges of the fuzzy fabric needed to be treated for longer wear. A sturdy looped blanket stitch is sewn on as the last step before sale and use in a fortunate home.  

Oleana!

The Oleana factory is also a mecca for those who love color.

A Norwegian ‘mecca’ for those who love good design and high quality fibers, The Oleana factory at Ytre Arna was an important stop on our journey.  What is the connection to looping? Well, naturally, knitted garments are made with loops. However, as most of us are aware, knitting and crochet have structures wherein one loop is pulled through another. On the other hand, simple looping passes a thread, rope, wire, agave fiber, etc. through a loop and on to an adjacent loop with fingers or a needle. Knitting ravels, looping does not. Knitting uses long lengths of fiber but simple looping has shorter lengths because the entire length passes through each loop. Many on the tour purchased irresistible machine-knitted garments while at the shop. They may eventually find themselves wearing their garments while using an eyed needle, looped techniques and short yarn ends to create or embellish a piece of fiber work.   Thus they will be connecting the earliest f techniques with the most current methods of fiber work. 

Time Flies By

One of our last adventures found us traveling to the Osterøy Museum, which included a beautiful bus ride out of Bergen into rural Norway. This folk museum is a busy place with a contemporary building for classes and a large hall for events as well as storage, offices etc. We had coffee and the local sweet, stompekakad, and then enjoyed a presentation by Marta Kløve Juuhl on the museum, and on teaching and writing about the warp weighted loom.  (A few tour group members returned a few days later for a class on warp weighted weaving.)

Looped blanket stitches on a blanket at Osterøy.

The museum has collected a number of buildings from the island and arranged them into an open air section that illustrates architecture from different eras. Tour members enjoyed walking through these old, restored buildings, and discovering what life might have been like in this place.  As I entered an upstairs bedroom of a wealthier farmhouse, I heard another loop-wise tour member exclaim “Look, FINALLY, blanket stitch is being used in a real bed!”  In the corner was a beautifully painted built-in bed with stone age loops strengthening and decorating the edge of the bedding it contained. It is one of my favorite memories of the trip, during which many of us became ever more aware and appreciative of simple loops in our textile work and lives.

In Conclusion

Readers can imagine how much of the excellent tour has not been included because of space. It is impossible to express all that was learned, the places visited, conversations shared, food enjoyed, landscape admired and people cherished. 

The loop is a device to organize and make items useful.  So are travel and learning when well done. Readers have missed the tour experience itself, but now have a chance to be more aware of and excited about the history and potential for the simple loop.

Participants in the 2019 Vesterheim Textile Tour

Kate Martinson’s tea cozy in nålbinding.

Kate Martinson is Professor Emerita of Art at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa, where she taught  weaving and a variety of Scandinavian fiber techniques. In addition, she taught bookmaking, papermaking, and art education, and developed study abroad experiences.  She has taught spinning and other textile-related classes throughout the United States and in Norway at Rauland Academy, and is known for introducing nålbinding to many American fiber artists. Kate is an enthusiastic supporter of Vesterheim Museum.

Additional Information:

Collingwood, Peter. The Maker’s Hand: Close Look at Textile Structures. 1987 (various editions).

Emery, Irene. The Primary Structures of Fabrics: An Illustrated Classification. Thames & Hudson; 2nd edition, 2009.

Hald, Margrethe. Ancient Danish Textiles from Bogs and Burials: A Comparative Study of Costume and Iron Age Textiles. Copenhagen : National Museum of Denmark, 1980.

Hoskins, Nancy Arthur. Universal Stitches for Weaving, Embroidery and other Fiber Arts. Atglen, PA : Schiffer Pub. Limited, 2013.