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Retro Reprint: Vestfoldsmett–New Interest in an Old Technique

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Editor’s note: This article originally appeared in Volume 5, No. 2, February 1999.  (Additional notes follow the article.)

Wall hanging in Vestfoldsmett woven by Lila Nelson. Owned by Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum

By Lila Nelson

A surprising variety of woven bed covers have been a part of the Norwegian folk tradition, but there is an equally surprising dearth of information about them.  Their origins, dates, history, the looms on which they were woven, sources of dyes, all are in many cases open to speculation. In fact, disagreement continues about whether some weaving was done by farm women or professionals and even if some types actually ever served as bed covers at all.

Vestfoldsmett is certainly a case in point. Ragnar Norby, in 1948 one of the first to write about the technique, stated that only 8 or 9 known examples exist and it appeared to be a local specialty.  Erling Eriksen’s 13-page monograph from 1955, which seems to be the major study extant, reveals how much is left to learn.  Former curator at the district museum in Tonsberg, he indicates that at an exhibition in 1925, when local people were invited to bring their family pieces, a Mrs. Meyer arrived with two coverlets in an unfamiliar technique.  Director Gulliksen asked the Norwegian Handcraft Association to make some copies and the discovery of more coverlets followed, thanks mainly to the interest and hard work of Ragnar Norby, who was a teacher in Larvik and a member of the Larvik Handcraft Association.

Where, Eriksen asks, did country weavers in Vestfold get the models for these unique tapestries?  Norby, Eriksen, and other Norwegian scholars argue that they derive from the Orient, possible based on the soumak technique; but how they got to Vestfold is unknown.  Some consider an impulse from Sweden, where a similar weave (krabbasnar) had tradition, though that, unlike Vestfoldsmett, often had a linen ground.  

Neither is there a solid basis for dating the coverlets since only one piece, from Svarstad, had the date 1840 actually woven in, and that is presumed to be the last one. The Kunstindustrimuseet example has a partially illegible date 17_2 which is interpreted as possible being 1762.  There seems to be a general acceptance of them having been produced in the 18th and 19th centuries, but proof is lacking.  Aase Bay Sjøvold, former textile curator at the Kunstindustrimuseet, speculates that various generations in just one family could have been responsible for the entire output; others say that the work has to have been done at least in part by professionals.

Eriksen points out that none of the coverlets seem to originate along the coast but rather are found inland in Vestfold.  He attributes this to economic factors, noting that the inner areas had wider economic distinctions and more defined economic classes.  Some farmers developed big farms and in addition made extra money by lumbering.  The landowners therefore had two sources of income while the non-landowners might in desperation turn to crafts such as weaving, especially since there was a wealthy class in a position to buy prestigious textiles. On the coastal areas, where farms were smaller and people were either farmers or fishermen, the economic distinctions were less extreme. People were generally satisfactorily situated but were not wealthy enough to be able to afford luxury textiles.  Eriksen, by these assumptions, reveals his belief that Vestfoldsmett were considered better than the everyday bed covers.

From my own examination of six Vestfold coverlets, however, I question that they were all made by professionals for a luxury class. One of them in particular shows the marks of an amateur weaver and several reveal casual and erratic methods of handling the loose pattern threads on the back side. I also wonder if they were not used quite steadily as functional coverlets because three or more show definite evidence along the sides of the wear that comes from frequent handling.  

Granting that the inland Vestfold areas were economically open to a weaving industry, this still does not tell us why this particular technique found favor there.  Similar questions apply to other areas of the country; for example, we can only speculate why Norwegian folk picture tapestries flourished in Gudbrandsdal and hardly anywhere else for over a hundred years in the 1600s and 1700s.  Neither does it tell us from where the style came and what influences were at work in its development.  

From the middle 1800s to around 1925, it appears that Vestfoldsmett was largely forgotten.  With its surfacing at the Tonsberg exhibition, it begins to show up in altered and greatly simplified forms on objects other than coverlets. It serves as decorative bands on the ends of table runners or in spots of decoration on pillows.  The results did not please Ragnar Nordby, who in his 1948 article describes them as a disaster. He calls for a return to the quality of the originals, but he is largely ignored.  Modern adaptations have continued to the present day.  

Graphed information for coverlets on which I have done sight examination

The name indicates where the coverlet was located, not necessarily where it was made.  The last listing relates to a coverlet now in the Kunstindustrimseet in Oslo;  The others are in the Tønsberg, Vestfold, museum.  

Dovleteppet (the word “teppet” is also used to mean “coverlet”)
Size: L 62 ½” W 52 ½”
Warp: 2-ply linen ca. 6.40 epi
Ground weft: ca. 7/2 2-ply wool
Pattern weft: ground used doubled. Some use thinner wool
Colors: white, gold-white, yellow, dk blue, lt blue, orange, red, lt beige, dk beige, black sheep,  dk green
No. bands: 10
Joining bands: diamond, arrow, zigzag inlays bordered by kjerringtenner
Center joining seam overcast with medium heavy linen
Sandar coverlet
Size: L 75 ½” W 55”
Warp: medium heavy 2-ply linen ca. 7 epi
Ground weft: medium heavy 2-ply wool
Pattern weft: ground used double
Colors: white gold, yellow-gold, dk blue, pink-beige, brown
No. bands: 12
Joining bands: three-thread floats with kjerringtenner
Center joining seam in running stitch with medium heavy linen
Stokke coverlet
Size: L 63” W 51”
Warp:2-ply linen ca. 6.40 epi
Ground weft: ca. 7/2,  2-ply wool
Pattern weft: ground used double
Colors: white, gold, grey-green, red, dk blue
No. bands:13
Joining bands: diamond, arrow inlay, kjeffingtenner
Center joining seam in running stitch with linen
Inscription: embroidered initials ITD
Andebu coverlet
Size:  L 63” W 53”
Warp: heavy 2-ply linen ca. 6.40 epi
Ground weft: heavy 2-ply wool, rya type
Pattern weft: ground used double, some thinner wool
Colors: white, gold, 2 shades green, rust, red, brown, dk blue
No. bands: 10
Joining bands: diamond, arrow, zigzag inlays, kjerringtenner
Center Joining seam in running stich with linen
AGD coverlet 
Size: L 64”  49½”
Warp: heavy 2-ply linen ca. 6.40 epi
Ground weft: medium heavy 2-ply wool
Pattern weft: ground used double, some use of single ply
Colors: medium gold, dk gold, reddish brown, dk blue, lt blue
No. bands: 11
Joining bands: diamond, arrow, zigzag inlays, kjerringtenner borders
Center joining seam not noted
Inscription: embroidered initials and date:
AG(?)D 17 (6?)2

This 1762 coverlet, the “Askjemteppet,” is owned by the Nasjonalmuseet (formerly the Kunstindustrimuseet). See the full record.

Seen only in Xeroxed photographs:

Sverstad coverlet (dated 1840)
Hoyjord coverlet
Solum coverlet (at Brekkemuseet)
Aske coverlet (privately owned)

Weaving Technique

As noted above, the warp is generally a heavy linen with a sett of 6.40 to 7 ends per inch.  The ground is tightly packed weft-faced plain weave.  All sources have taken for granted that the pattern was lain in on the loom, although Aase Bay Sjøvold points out that no one knows this for certain. There is, however, no extension of pattern threads going across the center joining seams, one indicator of embroidery.  It is also unlikely that thread-count embroidery would be attempted on a tightly packed wool foundation.

All directions state that the technique is done wrong side up using butterflies for the pattern wefts, but again there is no certain proof. In my own experiments, I have worked right side up using a straight length of weft instead of butterflies because 1) there is less chance of making an error, and easier to spot an error, and 2) it is preferable when weaving free rather than thread-counted designs and when other techniques are included.

Two shots of foundation weft appeared to be standard between each pattern inlay although I could not examine coverlets extensively enough to be sure this was constant. Most patterns floats were over two or over three warps.  Patterns requiring longer floats appeared to be done in increments of two or three. Although some sources indicate that longer floats were done in soumak or figure eight fashion, I could not in my cursory investigation see evidence of this.  It appeared that the weaver went over three warps, under two, and so on across the pattern area, then returning to fill in the previously uncovered warps. Any of the above three methods, however would seem to be workable and would look superficially similar when used, as in the case of Vestfoldsmett, in limited fashion.

Colors

As in aged textiles generally, colors have changed in varying degrees throughout the years, and one can sometimes only surmise what they originally were.  Some have faded to a rather non-identifiable grayed tone.  In 1979 Gunn Bremnes described tests she had made to determine the original colors of Dovleteppet and she concluded that they were natural white sheep, pale yellow, darker yellow, golden, orange, beige brown, sharp red, blue, and black.  (The colors in Dovleteppet are generally better preserved than in many of the other pieces.) I will not go into the detailed studies with indigo and various plant dyes which Bremnes carried out, but she points to what is evident in most of the coverlets, the predominance of shades of gold and yellow.  She mentions that birch trees, common in the area, were widely used to produce yellows.  Blues are next in importance, along with natural white and black.  Orange-red, pinkish beige and brownish-beige tones are also found, as is a grayed green.  Generally, one can say that the colors vary a good deal from one coverlet to another, as do the designs, making for a wide variety of effects.  Though the background color usually varies within each band of design, the Svarstad coverlet is said to be on an all-black ground.

Designs

All of the Vestfoldsmett coverlets have a series of horizontal bands, each with a different motif, the total number per coverlet varying from about 8 to 13.  These are separated by narrow bands which always include kjerringtenner (two colors alternating on plain weave to produce a toothed effect) and very often inlaid diamonds, arrow, or zigzag forms.  The total has been aptly described as continuously varied repetition.  Each band is filled with a horizontally repeated motif which is built up of floating pattern wefts.  The lines usually move diagonally by one or more threads as the pattern progresses, although some, especially the more geometric motifs, have three repeats before change, giving a block appearance.  Ragnar Norby classifies the major designs as being urns of flowers, and he calls attention to 14 patterns: five with constantly changing lines, five with a primarily block orientation, and four with elaborately ornamented variations.  Karin Archer stated that the Aske coverlet was described by its owner Martha Aske as symbolizing the story of life and growth in nature through stylized seeds, growing and blooming flowers, dancing figures, and rain.  Other sources, however, question a specific symbolic significance in the motifs.  

Bibliography

Andersen, Kirsten Gahrn.

RAMMEVAEV. G.E.C. Gads Forlag, Copenhagen, 1957. pp 42-51. In Danish.

Archer. Karin Fagerlund.  “De gamle Vestfoldteppene” in NORSK HUSFLID, No. 3, 1975. pp 8-10. In Norwegian.

1 This inlay technique has often been called “Vestfoldteknikk”, but that term could be applied to any woven product associated with the province of Vestfold; whereas “Vestfoldsmett”, so-called by Stromberg etal in their NORDISK TEAXTILTEKNISK TERMINOLOGI, refers specifically to an inlay process.  They classify it with the Swedish and Danish “krabbasnar”, the Icelandic “juoksupujotus”, defining them all as a folk type of two-harness brocade or in an older variant a brocade on a twill ground with double threads worked wrong side up.

2  Ragnar Norby.  “Vestfoldteppe” in Yrke, No. 2, 1948, pp 29-33.  He does not seem to be aware of one example in the Kunstindustrimuseet in Oslo, (Cat. No. 3781), which I saw in 1984.

3 Erling Eriksen. “Gammel vevkunst i Vestfolds bygder” in Vestfold Minne 1955. Translated by Torun Gulliksen 1983.

4 Karin Archer. “De gamle Vestfold Teppene” in Husflid, No. 3, 1975. Archer refers to the unmarried Meyer sisters from Nøtteroy.

5 Gunn Bremnes. “Om fargebruk i “Dovle-teppet” in Vestfold Minne 1979. pp. 30-34. Translated by Torun Gulliksen.

Lila Nelson was an excellent researcher. Her descriptions of the coverlets she included were based on personal examination. There were no photos of the pieces she examined in the original article, but I felt confident that the photos included in this reprint are the correct ones, based on the photos and descriptions in the booklet, Vestfoldteppene, published by the Vestfold Husflidlag. The Vestfoldteppe images are all from digitaltmuseet.no. I eliminated one description which I could not definitively match to an original coverlet in a photo. Robbie LaFleur

Vesterheim Folk Art School Pivots to Online Offerings for the Pandemic and Beyond

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By Lea Lovelace, Director of Folk Art Education, Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum

If you would have interviewed me about online folk art programs eight months ago, I would have told you that I did not like the idea. Vesterheim’s Folk Art School mission is to bring people together in community and to share in the healing power of handcraft, inspired by our amazing collection. I’ve been quoted saying that “Folk Art is about putting our screens down, connecting our hearts with our hands, and sharing in the magic of making together.” However, when Covid-19 hit, we quickly realized that the only way forward was to embrace our screens. After we stopped mourning all we could not offer and do, we found creativity, inspiration, and new audiences through digital platforms. We abandoned the idea that folk art education could only be served in ways that we knew, through in-person instruction. Words like “pivot,” “pilot'” and “zooming,” as well as phrases like “being nimble,” found their way into our everyday vernacular. We were fortunate to receive funding to help us try new things and we were supported by our beloved instructors, who were willing to rethink teaching, learning, and connecting through virtual experiences. 

An online class on plantefarging (natural dyeing) sold out quickly.

In just a few months’ time and over sixty online programs later, we have shifted our mindset about what outreach looks like and have discovered just how unexpectedly warm and engaging digital platforms can be. Someday we will welcome people back to campus with Norwegian treats to share and learn with us, but we also see online programs as a new arm of the Folk Art School, not just as a temporary measure during the pandemic. We have created a new position dedicated to Digital Learning and Outreach (Hooray for Josh Torkelson!) and our online classes, Bokprats (book talks), Family Adventures, Folk Art Conversation Webinars, and Collections Connections have reached friends new and old all over the country and all over the world. Comparing online class experiences with in-person class experiences is like comparing apples to oranges. They’re both unique and have a lot to offer. Here is what we like about our new online programs:

Uplifting our Master Artists, Providing Access to the Collection

Since the start of our digital work we’ve offered several programs to connect past folk art class participants to our master folk-art instructors whom they might have missed taking classes from during this time. In one example, our Collection Connections series, Vesterheim Gold Medalists Laura Demuth and Jan Mostrom shared some of their favorite weavings from the collection in an informal presentation over the lunch hour. They highlighted history and techniques used and how these objects have inspired their own work. Programs such as these uplift our folk art instructors and our collection, and also provide greater access to students for whom it might be difficult to visit Vesterheim, even in normal circumstances. These classes and events provide a warm small group sense of community where participants can share things they are working on and connect with other weavers both near and far. 

In a Collection Connection talk, Jan Mostrom discussed four of her favorite Vesterheim weavings, including this rutevev.

New Instructors, New Kinds of Classes

Our digital platform provides opportunities to feature new instructors and offer more introductory level classes which provide an entry point for new learners to try their hand at Folk Art. For these classes, we provide kits that are shipped to participant homes with all the items needed to have a successful experience (including a Norwegian chocolate bar – a most essential item!). These online programs have allowed us to engage new instructors and new students living far away from Vesterheim for whom both the travel distance and the nature of a short class might be hard to justify. Being able to offer a greater number of beginner courses online will also allow us to differentiate and provide more speciality in-person classes. In this way, our online programs support our in-person offerings.

New Audiences

The author in her new role as online host.

Recently, I hosted an online “Beginning Rosemaling” class and had fifteen participants, representing 12 different states (including someone from Alaska!). There were men, women, a grad school student, and a new grandmother. This is what online classes look like at Vesterheim. In another event, when Robbie LaFleur was featured in an evening Zoom Webinar conversation on Lila Nelson’s weavings, we had hundreds of people in attendance including folks from Canada, Northern Ireland, and Norway. In one of our smaller and cozier events, Kate Martinson’s recent Collection Connection on knitted mittens, we gathered non-textile producing Vesterheim Gold Medalists, a homeschooling high schooler, and even a graduate student from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Part of our job is to facilitate the intergenerational transmission of these rich folk art traditions and we are excited about the ways in which digital programming facilitates this.

Increased Access

It is so great to see familiar faces as we convene a program, but it is also exciting to see new folks because of the greater accessibility of online programs. Vesterheim Gold Medalist Rosemaler Patti Goke said it first and others have since echoed her statement. “I love the accessibility of online classes. I have wanted to try so many other folk art traditions for so long, but I couldn’t justify investing the time or the cost in trying onsite classes in other disciplines, as I needed to prioritize taking Rosemaling classes. Now with online classes I can try something new and see if I want to return to Vesterheim to take a more intensive class in-person.” We are seeing weavers trying tinsmithing and woodcarving online for the first time. Perhaps there is a pandemic inspired freedom in exploring similar design elements but through a different material. After all that is what art is about– exploring, creative problem solving, and negotiating history and the world around us in new inspiring ways.

Fostering Community, Having Fun

Online programs can be warm and build community? Yes they can! During my time hosting these programs, I’ve witnessed some wonderful things. A college student joined her mother from across the country while attending a jewelry class together to celebrate their Norwegian heritage. We’ve seen folks give each other a thumbs up emoji for sharing their first attempts at band-weaving and laughing over the lessons they learned during the class. We’ve seen a group of 50 raise a glass of wine to one another during a monthly Bokprat (book club featuring books by Scandinavian authors). Even our largest events, the free Folk Art Conversation Webinars foster community as we see people greeting friends on the chat feature and offering comments to one another. I’ve seen dogs and cats and kids climb onto participant laps during a class, which may feel embarrassing but really just makes for a warm, authentic experience. (I’ve certainly had my own share of zoom moments with my furry coworkers ever present by my side). In one of my favorite moments, on Halloween Weekend during a Sami Mitten Class, the students had an impromptu costume contest. Instructor Laura Ricketts switched out her hat each time the camera panned back to her and a participant surprised Vesterheim host, Josh Torkelson, by dressing up as him, resulting in all kinds of spontaneous laughter. 

Where does Laura Ricketts get all her hats? Photo: Josh Torkelson

Digital programs have humanized us all and reminded us that we are in this together, negotiating this pandemic, and finding some silver linings along the way. We have learned new things, had fun, met new friends along the way, and we are building a community in these tough times. This is what learning at Vesterheim is all about: sharing stories and experiences, bringing people together from all corners of the country and beyond, making connections to our collection, our history, and our folk artists, and perhaps even finding a passion for folk art for years to come.

Lea Lovelace, Director of Folk Art Education, brings over twelve years of museum education experience to the position and twenty years of experience in visual arts programming. Prior to her start at Vesterheim in 2018, she developed school and teacher programs for the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago, as Manager of School Programs. Most recently, she served for seven years as adjunct faculty at Luther College teaching and developing curriculum for the Art Education program, often leading study abroad courses related to museum studies. She was awarded Outstanding Higher Education Art Educator by Art Educators of Iowa in 2017. In 2008 Lovelace co-founded ArtHaus, a not-for-profit center for visual, performing and literary arts for all ages located in Decorah, IA. 

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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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!