Viking Weaving on Minnesota’s North Shore

By Holly Hildebrandt

I drive up the shore eagerly, forgetting one of my favorite things weaving has taught me: to slow down. Luckily the lake helps; every opening in the trees with a view to Superior correlates with the speed of single lane traffic. We slow in tandem from 68 to 47 miles per hour.

I grew up next to Lake Superior. She has inspired much play, art, and rest throughout my life. A return to her is to home. For years I dreamt of studying a craft at the North House Folk School, a school specializing in traditional crafts, situated on the water, in the charming town of Grand Marais. In April, I was told about a class where we would learn to build our own warp-weighted loom and weave on it. Overcome with urgency and delight, I signed up immediately, excited for a weaving adventure up north.

I arrive to town the night before class begins. I have booked myself a small cabin with a view to the lake. The almost full moon rises as the sky darkens from a lilac pink to royal blue. The moon sparkles on the still water as I settle into the new pace of my life for the next five days. I have left the frantic energy of the city behind me and hope to leave it there so I can fully immerse myself in this trip.

Photo: Holly Hildebrandt

In the morning, I head to the school. The first two days of class – building the warp weighted loom with David Susag. There are only four of us students and we range in comfortability with power tools from never having touched one to regular weekend use. I worked some construction in college, but besides using my husband’s drill as a bobbin winder now, it has been some time for me. David is an avid woodworker and Scandinavian folk craft enthusiast. He can often be found teaching or taking Scandinavian folk art classes. He also demonstrates at Viking reenactments, showcasing one of his many crafts such as spring-pole lathe and woodcarving. He also has an affinity for traditional fiber arts including bunad sewing and crafting skinfell ornaments. He is thorough and patient in his instruction to us, and laces our work-time with tales of his travels and incredible teachers. We use table, miter, and band saws, drill presses, chisels, and mallets. By the end of our second day, we each completed a tabletop version of a 9000 year old style warp weighted loom.

Photo: Holly Hildebrandt

Warp weighted looms are some of the world’s earliest discovered technology and can be found globally in different prehistoric cultures. The earliest found warp weighted loom is from Palestine, dating back to about 7,000 BCE. This particular style of loom is an upright loom, in that the warp runs perpendicular to the ground, much like a tapestry loom. The warp is then bundled and tied to stones that pull the strings down, providing the necessary tension. Coverlets, rugs, and other textiles are typical pieces that can be created on this style of loom. The versions we built are smaller than what would have typically been used – they are about 20” by 24”, excellent for tabletop work, are easily deconstructable, and are able to be packed flat. This portion of the five-day long class is timely for me – I am currently reading Women’s Work: The First 20,000 Years by Elizabeth Wayland Barber, and have been marveling at the “courtyard sisterhood” culture that correlated with the work on original warp weighted looms. I feel a similar camaraderie as depicted in the book as we work in the shop. In between the roars of the sawdust collector, we all visit with each other, chatting about our projects at hand and lives back home.

My evenings after classes are filled with smoked herring, a local beer on the beach, agate hunting, reading, and long calls home to my husband. In the early mornings, I sip hot coffee at the lake as I watch the sun paint the sky pinks, purples, and periwinkles.

Lakeside coffee. Photo: Holly Hildebrandt

The third day of class, our looms are assembled and ready for dressing. Melba has arrived. She begins the morning by turning out three IKEA bags of wool yarn onto tables–a glorious, fluffy mountain. We pick our color schemes, plan our weavings, dress our looms. The room fluctuates in volume as we shift from laughter and chatter to intense focus.

The warp threads on the warp weighted loom are under tension with rocks. Photo: Holly Hildebrandt

I met Melba Granlund a year and a half ago. She was weaving on the most impressive loom when I wandered into the Weavers Guild of Minnesota to do some shopping for an upcoming project. She detected my peeking from afar and invited me over to come watch her. She was welcoming, and informative, and I adored her. Melba walked me through the mechanics of a Glimarka loom and explained the beautiful design she was weaving was called Telemarksteppe. I thought the pattern looked like geometric waves. It seemed intricate to me, but she was serene. It must have been apparent that I was enthralled. She invited me to an open house for the group she was weaving this project with: the Scandinavian Weavers Study Group. I attended the following week, signed up, and have been a member of the group ever since. I joke with her now that she’s responsible for my obsession with Scandinavian weaving. I know the draw has always been there, but I am forever grateful to her for opening the door to this world.

Melba Granlund and the author. Photo: Holly Hildebrandt

Melba is a Scandinavian folk artist and long-time weaver. Over the years she has studied under master weavers and fiber artists in Norway, Sweden, and Finland and teaches her own classes here in the Midwest. She often participates in Viking reenactments with her full size warp weighted loom, measuring nearly 6 feet tall and wide. On it, she is currently working on a traditional style coverlet, true of its time in color and pattern. Coverlets were traditionally used as the decorative top side of a thick blanket in the cooler-climate Scandinavian countries. The decorative blanket was woven in bright colors and intricate patterns to offset the long, dark, and grey winters. Then the coverlet would be attached to a sheepskin or woven rya (a high-pile textile made to imitate sheep’s wool), and used wool-side-down as a thick blanket to trap in the heat on a cold night. Melba’s in-depth understanding of these ancient crafts is inspiring and not limited to weaving. She is also an avid crafter of nålbinding, felting, sewing, and spinning, to name a few. The world is blessed that Melba enjoys sharing her abundance of knowledge and expertise with us.

A bag woven by Melba Granlund in pick-and-pick technique. Photo: Holly Hildebrandt

The project I originally choose to create on my warp-weighted loom starts with the intention of becoming a bag. I decide on an earthy color scheme with unexpected pops of highly saturated lime greens, teals, scarlet, and the occasional contrast of black. The pattern is a pick-and-pick array of stripes, blocky teeth, and squares. The blips of color are nestled into a geometric sea of creamy whites, warm greys, and chocolatey browns. For the flap of the bag, I decide on peeling apart the plys of a white wool yarn for rya knots. However, I fell so madly in love with the rya, that I have since completely changed my mind on the finished end product – something that never happens to artists, I’m sure. Since returning home, I have shifted direction and will make a tapestry that celebrates these squiggly white ryas. The color scheme will remain the same, but will mostly be visible from the backside. The front will now be filled with these rya poms, with little peeks from the background visible in between the clusters.

Rya on the new warp weighted loom. Photo: Holly Hildebrandt

On the last day of class, none of us have finished our projects, but are tickled that we get to continue them from home–-one of the greatest benefits of building our own looms. For that, it was a low pressure class, knowing we did not need to rush to complete everything in our allotted time. I’m happy to say we have all made new friends and connections. One woman has invited me to her home this winter where she will teach me to spin wool. The other two women have decided to get together the next day in Duluth for a swim.

I make the long drive home that evening. I feel full having gotten this sweet time connecting with Melba and my classmates, and also having connected with some long-lost roots of my heritage. I savor the last views of Lake Superior out my window and as she disappears in my rearview mirror. I don’t even touch my radio on the five hour drive–my mind is swimming with all of the things I want to learn next and the places I’ll go.

Holly Hildebrandt lives in Minnesota where she is a commercial interior designer by day, and weaver by night. She taught herself how to weave on a frame loom in 2018, and was gifted a floor loom in 2019. This led to many classes, lectures, joining the Scandinavian Weavers Study Group, participating in makers’ markets, and an inevitable lifelong passion for weaving. Holly is inspired by natural surroundings, uncovering family history, and studying global design history. With her craft, she hopes to excite an appreciation for functional art, connection to the past, and an intentional way of living in the world today.

October 2024

Norwegian Double-Cloth: Warp-Weighted Loom Experiments in a Complicated Technique

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By Katherine Larson and Marta Kløve Juuhl

Editor’s note: This article appeared in Archaeological Textiles Review No. 64 (ATR), published in 2022 by the Centre for Textile Research, University of Copenhagen. A wealth of detail on how this technique may have been woven will be of interest to warp-weighted loom enthusiasts, but anyone interested in solving puzzles may also enjoy this article. Links to the article and its foundational study appear below, but first here is a summary from one of the authors, providing you with the background and highlights of studying double-cloth on the warp-weighted loom.

The coverlet-width warp woven for the 2022 double-cloth study. From ATR No. 64

Go Big or Go Home – The Importance of Textile Width

By Katherine Larson

Double-cloth, also called double-weave (dobbeltvev in Norwegian), has a history in Scandinavia. The somewhat complicated weave structure meant that this was not an every-woman technique, but for a knowledgeable few it did provide an effective means for creating free-form patterning on a simple loom: Set up two warps of contrasting color, exchange the warps in selected places, and now you were weaving a bridal procession instead of plain old stripes and plaids. What a break-through moment for the weaver who first figured this out! Some manipulation with pattern boards would be required to hold the contrasting warp layer apart for a weaving shed, but if you were clever enough to conceive of double-cloth in the first place, that part would be easy.

This 17th century Norwegian reversible double-cloth textile, a fragment of a once longer piece, depicts riders on horseback, possibly representing a bridal procession. OK-10878, National Museum, Oslo.

Double-cloth has been known in parts of Scandinavia since at least the Viking Age. The occurrence of Persian double-cloth fabrics within the same time frame suggests that our clever weaver of the north may have seen an exotic textile from a distant land and set about adapting her home loom to reproduce this brilliant new idea.

A narrow medieval double-cloth fragment from Rennebu, Norway. The figures on the left possibly depict two women weaving on a warp-weighted loom. Museum of Cultural History, UiO, Oslo.

The ‘home loom’ of the north, of course, would be the warp-weighted loom, which was used for weaving reversible double-cloth for centuries in Scandinavia. Even when the technique’s flashier cousin came along – non-reversible double-cloth, woven on the treadle loom – the reversible technique still prospered for a while. A significant body of 18th century coverlets provides ample evidence for both of these double-cloth traditions, but while the non-reversible technique survived long enough to be documented, the reversible version fell out of use before anyone thought to describe the process. Yet over 80 coverlets in the reversible technique, many in excellent condition, provide mute testimony to the successful use of the warp-weighted loom to produce relatively complicated textiles.

Non-reversible double-cloth lends itself to finer pattern elements than the reversible technique. Details of double cloth coverlets: reversible (left) OK 01696, National Museum, Oslo; and non-reversible (right) NF !910-0433, Norwegian Folk Museum.

The initial study

The coverlets of this gone-but-not-forgotten weaving tradition provided the starting point for my decade-long study to consider how reversible double-cloth might have been woven on the warp-weighted loom. Over the course of many research trips, I found that details inadvertently ‘recorded’ in the coverlets by the weavers themselves provided a surprising amount of information about how the loom may have been set up, while experimentation with various possibilities on the warp-weighted loom served to rule out a few ineffective options (most notably the natural shed). Based on these findings I proposed a possible method for weaving double-cloth on the warp-weighted loom.

Studying a double-cloth coverlet at the National Museum in Oslo, 2009. Photo: K. Larson

Studying the medieval Lomen double cloth textile. Photo: K. Larson

As with any warp-weighted loom research, Marta Hoffmann’s groundbreaking documentation of plain-weave methods on the warp-weighted loom (The Warp-Weighted Loom 1964) provided the foundation for this research. But double-cloth is more complicated than plain-weave, and even Marta Hoffmann’s carefully qualified speculation, that double-cloth patterns may have been picked by hand instead of with the use of additional sticks, did not stand up well to observation, experimentation and speculation.

The word speculation deserves repeating here: not for naught was Hoffmann so careful when straying from known facts. While my proposed method for weaving double-cloth was based on reasoned guesses and experimental results, it was still speculation. It was not entirely surprising, then, when a flaw emerged, all of which underscores the importance of Hoffmann’s documentation of an actual living weaving tradition.

The 2022 study

Words to live by: What works at one width sometimes does not work at another. The error in the proposed weaving method seems obvious in retrospect, but textile width was just one of many factors in the initial study. Warping a loom for double-cloth takes a long time, and the study’s experimental textile (30 cm) was designed to require minimal setup when traveling to various locations. This facilitated what was then a top priority: consulting with knowledgeable warp-weighted loom weavers while testing different loom configurations. Since simply forming a reasonable shed was an early stumbling block, the width of the experimental weaving was low on my list of concerns. However, once an apparent solution to serious warp-passage problems presented itself – a slight fanning of the warp threads accomplished by stretching the spacing chains – shed formation improved dramatically and I moved on to consider many other factors in weaving double-cloth. The element of textile width was not revisited.

Evidence of pattern storing is found in Scandinavian reversible double-cloth textiles, and therefore experimentation with transferring stored patterns was part of the study. This proved to be a straightforward process on the warp-weighted loom, especially in comparison to the treadle loom. Photo: K. Larson

The flaw in the proposed warp-fanning method emerged only after the initial study was complete. In contemplating the next logical step in understanding double-cloth, I decided to weave a piece based on the medium-width (~ 80 cm) procession textiles. This group of five decorative panels depicting a procession on horseback is generally thought to slightly predate the coverlet tradition. Unfortunately, shortly after I began pattern weaving on my procession textile it became obvious that the normally beneficial effects of stretching the spacing chains did not extend to the center of this wider warp.

Procession double-cloth in progress. Photo: K. Larson

Warp-fanning had worked well for relatively narrow double-cloth textiles, and since four of the six surviving medieval Scandinavian examples were 30 cm in width or less, it is possible that this method served as a useful way to weave the earlier decorative panels. However, it clearly would not have accommodated even the modest width of the procession textiles, much less that of the coverlets, which ranged from 123 to 175 cm in width. I was back to square one.

I discussed my ongoing double-cloth research with Marta Kløve Juuhl, curator (now retired) at Osterøy Museum near Bergen. Marta, an experienced weaver and a recognized expert in warp-weighted loom weaving, was intrigued by the idea of weaving double-cloth at full coverlet width. Thrilled to find someone else curious about this question, I arranged with Marta to start a project on one of the looms at Osterøy Museum in late February 2020. Unfortunately, the pandemic interrupted any idea of further joint work, but we continued to discuss the project regularly by email.

In warping the loom at Osterøy Museum, we used the same elements of loom setup as those in the initial study, with the exception of warp fanning. As expected, weaving did not go smoothly, requiring continual clearing of the sheds, a familiar problem. Nonetheless the small amount of weaving accomplished at Osterøy was instructive, identifying heddle length as the first issue to address.

Setting up the coverlet-width warp at Osterøy Museum, February 2020; sewing the warp to the beam. From ATR No. 64

Preparing to attach the backmost row of weights to the warp. From ATR No. 64

Initial pattern weaving. From ATR No. 64

Fortunately, bringing the warp home to Seattle required cutting all those laboriously tied heddles. Since they would have to be retied anyway, I conducted a small interim experiment before putting the coverlet-width warp back on the loom. This study indicated two things: heddles held slightly taut by their warp threads, but also tied at different lengths for the forward and back layers, reduced heddle tangling during shed changes. The heddles were retied at the new lengths (all 1,494 of them) and heddle tangling receded as a problem.

Weights were the next issue, with the coverlet-width warp requiring a total of 100 weights at 1 kg each. While relatively narrow stones are plentiful in Norway, most of the field stones in the Northwest are nicely rounded thanks to thousands of years of glacial action. These were deemed too thick for the compact weight rows required. Suitably narrow weights were instead achieved by using coins, eight rolls of pennies per weight. Acquiring these coins at several banks felt distinctly odd, loading money into a reusable shopping bag while wearing a pandemic mask. Multiple banks were visited during this penny-acquisition spree due to withdrawal limits caused by a nationwide coin shortage, a problem no doubt exacerbated by the needs of warp-weighted loom research.

With the warp reestablished on the loom, the most likely avenue for improving loom function seemed to be the disposition of the weight rows. Four different configurations were tested, but one clearly outperformed the other three. In that configuration all weight rows were placed behind the shed rod, with the two rows of the forward layer held separate from their backmost neighbors by being tied at intervals to the shed rod.

Four weight row configurations were tested in the 2022 study. Option ‘d’ was the most successful, with the two forward rows placed behind, but attached to, the shed rod. From ATR No. 64

In the final configuration, spacing chains of the two forward weight rows were tied to the shed rod. The chains formed slight arcs, providing additional stretching of the warps that was somewhat reminiscent of the earlier warp-fanning method. This effect may have assisted in warp passage. From ATR No. 64

This unusual weight-row disposition was inspired by an irregularity I had noted in several coverlets during the initial study. The method for establishing use of the warp-weighed loom in the first place had been a program of measuring irregularity in warp thread spacing. This irregularity is mostly disguised by the profusion of pattern in the coverlets, but is quite evident when measured. Oddly, several coverlets had a series of widely spaced warp areas that were somewhat evenly dispersed across the textile. It seemed possible that this represented a pull on the warp threads – or rather on the spacing chains – to hold the weight rows separate in some fashion. The success of the final configuration, with the forward weight rows tied to the shed rod, lends support to this possibility.

Reversible double-cloth coverlets woven on the warp-weighted loom were the last chapter in a centuries-long tradition in central Scandinavia. Since available evidence points to narrower textiles being the primary decorative intent of medieval double-cloth, perhaps the appearance of the horizontal treadle loom had a role in encouraging this final chapter. The adoption of the treadle loom happened unevenly in Norway, but occurred at about the same time as the coverlets were woven. With the new loom’s superior capability to produce yardage, it seems likely that once it was acquired, the warp-weighed loom would have been abandoned. Yet for those with knowledge of the double-cloth technique, the now-empty looms may have represented an opportunity. After all, the slow pace of weaving a wider double-cloth textile would no longer be an impediment to the all-important need to produce yardage.

The use of materials for double-cloth was also revisited in our 2022 study. Double-cloth has an inherent problem: weaving (and continually exchanging) two plain-weave warps in a space best suited to one. Medieval Scandinavian weavers addressed this problem by using a (smooth) layer of linen vs. a layer of colorful wool, but the Norwegian weavers of both the procession panels and the coverlets had transitioned to a new set of materials. In these textiles the linen layer was replaced by a sheep-brown warp that, as evidence from the initial study indicated, was predominantly composed of hair from the dual-coated northern European short-tailed sheep. This relatively smooth fiber likely functioned as well as linen, and the resulting textiles, now all sheep’s wool (or nearly so), may have had a more appealing hand than those made with a layer of linen.

Perhaps a similar spirit of innovative was at work in solving the problems that arose when weaving double-cloth at a wider width. Since the warp-weighted loom’s signature natural shed was (presumably) ineffective for double-cloth, the weavers may have reimagined the function of this basic loom part, using the shed rod as an attachment point for holding the double-cloth layers apart.

Or perhaps not. We cannot know for sure how double-cloth was woven on the warp-weighted loom, we can only experiment and speculate.

Detail from Procession, 2019. Photo: K. Larson

For those interested in weaving double-cloth on the warp-weighted loom, I’ll be interested to hear what you find. kllarson@uw.edu

Katherine Larson lives on Bainbridge Island, Washington. She has a doctorate from the University of Washington, where she is an affiliate faculty member in the Department of Scandinavian Studies, and she is the author of The Woven Coverlets of Norway.

Read the full academic article by Larson and Marta Kløve Juuhl from Archaeological Textiles Review: “Norwegian double-cloth: warp-weighted loom experiments in a complicated technique”

The background research that forms the basis for the 2022 article can be read with these links: the study was published in the Norwegian Folk Museum yearbook (2015); and an account of the research process appears in an earlier Norwegian Textile Letter article (2012).

The entire issue of Archaeological Textiles Review No. 64 is available online and can be accessed here. Articles in this issue that might be of interest to readers of the Norwegian Textile Letter include experiments with 2/1 twill on a two beamed loom based on textile fragments from 400 BCE Scotland, rare finds of linen garments from a 17th century Swedish grave, and reconstruction of a tablet-woven band from 3rd-4th century Germany.

Border from Procession. Photo: K. Larson

March 2023

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En Reiseskildring fra Vevsymposium i Tromsø

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.Av Hilde Opedal Nordby, håndvever og vevlærer

1. – 3. november 2019 besøkte jeg Norges Husflidslags vevsymposium som arrangeres hvert tredje år, denne gangen i Tromsø. Omlag 150 personer var samlet under tre innholdsrike dager. Norges Husflidslag er en kultur- og interesseorganisasjon som er en ledende aktør innen kulturvern og næringshusflid i Norge. Organisasjonen ble stiftet i 1910 og har 24.000 medlemmer over hele landet. Norges Husflidslag har vev som satsningsområde med et eget fagråd i vev. Det er stor vevaktivitet i husflidslag i hele landet hvor over 1000 personer årlig deltar på vevkurs.

Vevsymposiet ble arrangert på Tromsø Universitetsmuseum med åpningsarrangement på Tromsø bibliotek. Universitetsmuseet ligger vakkert til på sydspissen av Tromsøya. Biblioteket ligger i Tromsø sentrum og er en populær møteplass i byen, mange forbipasserende fikk ta del i åpningen og vevfaget fikk vist seg fra sin beste side. Snøen lavet ned hver dag og mørket la seg med et magisk mørkblått skimmer ved 16-tiden som gjorde av vi tilbragte dagene innendørs.

Grindvevd bånd med fine avslutninger.

Tema for symposiet var grenseløst mangfold – i teknikker, uttrykk og menneskemøter. I Tromsø var jeg nærmere Finland, Sverige og Russland enn de sørlige deler av Norge, og nordfylkene har tradisjonelt sett nære relasjoner til disse landene. Å få komme nærmere den samiske kulturarven føltes bra og spennende, da jeg som «søring» har fått lære lite om samisk kultur. Grenseløst mangfold i teknikker gjenspeilet seg i en rekke måter å veve bånd på – oppleggskanten til grenevev, grindvevde bånd i et hav av varianter og vevde bånd på rundstav fra Arkhangelsk inspirerte. Det grenseløse mangfoldet i uttrykk gjenspeilet seg i foredragsholdere med fokus på alt fra kunstvev, håndveving som yrke, tekstilforskning, rekonstruksjon og historisk fokus til samisk kulturarv og deres håndverk – douidji. Videre vil jeg presentere noen av høydepunktene fra programmet.

Grindvevde bånd på russisk til venstre og norsk til høyre. Fra workshop under lørdagen der deltagerne fikk prøve seg.

Noe av det som gav meg mest var å høre Sonja Vangen fortelle om greneveving, hun er en levende tradisjonsbærer med kunnskapen i hendene. Greneveving er en tradisjon som har levd videre i århundrer i Manndalen, noen mil øst for Tromsø. Grener er tjukke, varme pledd som veves på en grenevev. Greneveven består av to stokker som lenes opp mot en vegg, med en tverrgående kjepp som renninga sys fast til, med steiner som lodd. Til skilnad fra andre oppstadvever brukes naturstein som lodd, ikke de typiske kljåsteinene i kleberstein. Sojna fortalte at hun som barn fikk være med å samle stein til en vev, og trikset var å finne like tunge steiner som samtidig hadde en avlang form som var enkel å knyte fast. Renninga lages gjennom å veve med grind i et eget rennigngsapparat, der innslaget blir renningstråder. Annenhver tråd hovles i halvhovler på nok en tverrgående kjepp. Både renning og innslag håndspinnes. Sonja Vangen demonstrerte under lørdagen hvordan ei grene veves. Hun lærte å veve grener av sin mor – det gjorde alle da ho var lita, «ein måtte bare det», sa ho. Innslaget skal være tjukt og mjukt, det spanns tradisjonelt på en spinnekrok. Fremdeles håndspinnes innslaget, men nå på rokk. Grenene fungerte som dyne for de nomadiske samene og som teltduk. Bunnfargen var alltid sauevit, med sauesvarte striper. Grått forekommer. Fargebruken gjenspeiler sjøsamenes sauehold og de naturtilganger som fantes. Først i senere år har det vært vanlig med andre farger i grenene. Steinbittenner (kjerringtann) er typiske mønster i bordene.

En grenevev i miniatyr med naturstein som lodd og nærbilde av grene med bl.a. steinbittenner.

Fra renning til grenevev.

Preparing warp for a grene

Charlotte Engstad var en annen kvinne som inspirerte. Hun driver firmaet Stellaria og fortalte om hvordan det er å leve som håndvever – hvilke utfordringer hun har, hva hun vever og hennes innstilling til håndverket. Egentlig utdannet biolog med doktorgrad, videreutdannet hun seg i voksen alder og er i dag håndvevermester, en av de få med denne tittelen i Norge. Hun vever bunadsstoffer, skjerf og interiørtekstiler. Hun er den eneste jeg kjenner til som vever med rykkverk. Besøk hennes hjemmeside og bli inspirert! https://atelierstellaria.no/?lang=nb

Åsa Elstad fortalte om et spesielt tekstilfunn i fra Skjoldehamn på Andøya. En godt bevart drakt datert til 1050-1100-tallet ble funnet i ei myr, dette er idag Norges eldste tekstilfunn. Drakta består av ei kofte med hette, skjorte, bukse, belte og sko. Hvem bar drakten, som er for stort for skjelettet den ble funnet sammen med? Var bæreren samisk, mann eller kvinne? Vi fikk ingen fasit. Kim Holte, ansatt håndverker ved Lofotr vikingmuseum, holdt kurs i å veve grindvevde bånd til drakten. Under åpningen av symposiet bar hun sine håndsydde bukser som er en rekonstruksjon av Skjoldehamnbuksene – og de fungerte bemerkelsesverdig fint i en moderne sammenheng.

Som en fortsettelse på emnet om klestradisjoner i nord holdt Torunn Sedolfsen et foredrag om vevtradisjoner i Troms. Vi fikk bla i hennes fantastiske permer fylt med hennes rekonstruerte stoffer fra to tøyprøvesamlinger som finnes på Tromsø Museum. En herlig samling med bekledningsstoffer, sengetøy og hverdagstekstiler fra naturalhushold i Senjakommunene Berg og Torsken som representerer et godt stykke kvinnehistorie. Dette arbeidet er på vei til å bli en bok.

Ellen Kjellmo fortalte engasjert om båtrya. Hun har også skrevet en bok, «Båtrya: i gammel og ny tid», den anbefaler jeg på det varmeste – en innholdsrik bok med fagtermer, informative bilder og godt dokumentert håndverkskunnskap. På den lille halvtimen hun hadde til disposisjon gravde hun dypt i kyst-norges tradisjoner med å veve varmende ryer som fiskerene brukte i sine båter. Rya kalles for en skinnfellsimitasjon som er en passende beskrivelse – en solid vevnad med slitesterke dekkhår i renninga, og med «nopp» (lugg) i mjuk og isolerende bunnull som tilsammen imiterer sauens fell. Rya har som fordel at den beholder den mjuke og varmende evnen selv om den blir bløt – en vanlig skinnfell ville blitt stiv og ubrukelig av det salte vannet.

I andreetasjen på museet var det en pop-up butikk med salg av håndvevde produkter – vevde bånd fra Arkhangelsk, tepper og sjal fra Stellaria, bøker og vevutstyr av Norges Husflidslag. Kåfjorddalen Ullkarderi som drives av 3. generasjon ullkardere som nå satser stort på eget spinneri solgte kardet ull som ullflak og forgarn. De karder ulla uten å vaske den som gjør at lanolinet bevares og det beste av ullens egenskaper kommer fram. Museumsbutikken skuffet med sitt sortiment av maskinvevde sjal og souvernirprodukter produsert i utlandet. Hva med å satse mer på disse lokale håndverkerne?

Sergei Klykov fra Arkhangelsk viser båndveving på rundstav.

Det eneste jeg savnet under vevsymposiet var en stående utstilling av tradisjonelle tekstiler fra nordfylkene, både gamle tekstiler og nyproduserte. Samtidig skulle jeg ønske meg mer mingeltid da dagene var fullpakket med program som gav lite tid til å prate med de deltakgende og skape nye bekjentskap. Reiseskildringen vil jeg avrunde med et dikt av Rolf Jacobsen.

Nord av Rolf Jacobsen

Se oftere mot nord.

Gå mot vinden, du får rødere kinn.

Finn den ulendte stien. Hold den.

Den er kortere.

Nord er best.

Vinterens flammehimmel, sommer-

nattens solmirakel.

Gå mot vinden. Klyv berg.

Se mot nord.

Oftere.

Det er langt dette landet.

Det meste er nord.

Lenker

http://www.husflid.no/om_oss/kalender/vevsymposium_2019_grenseloest_mangfold_i_tromsoe

https://norskekunsthandverkere.no/users/freydis-einarsen

https://atelierstellaria.no/

https://touch.facebook.com/ullkarderi/?__tn__=%7EH-R

https://www.orkana.no/forfatter/ellen-kaia-kjellmo/

http://www.vesteraalen.info/reportasje_andoy_skjoldeforedrag_09.htm

Hilde Opedal Nordby is an Norwegian textile artist working with traditional weaving techniques, as well as contemporary and digital weaving. She is based in Sundsvall in Sweden and is working as a teacher in the weaving department at Sätergläntan Institute of Crafts in Insjön, Sweden. She also has her own company offering courses and weaving services as well as hand woven textiles such as interior textiles and textiles for clothing.

A Travelogue from the Weaving Symposium in Tromsø

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By Hilde Opedal Nordby, Handweaver and Weaving Instructor

On November 1-3, 2019, I attended the Norges Husflidslag (Norwegian Folk Art and Craft Association) Weaving Symposium, held every three years, this time in Tromsø. Around 150 people assembled for three eventful days. Norges Husflidslag is a cultural and interest organization that is a leading actor in the preservation of culture and traditional handcrafts in Norway. The organization was founded in 1910 and has 24,000 members throughout the country. Weaving is a central focus, and the organization has its own council for weaving. There is a great deal of weaving activity in Husflid groups around the country where over 1000 people participate in courses annually.

The Weaving Symposium was held at the Tromsø University Museum with opening ceremonies at the Tromsø Library. The University Museum is situated in a beautiful spot on the southern tip of Tromsøya [the island on which the city lies]. The library is in the center of Tromsø and is a popular city meeting place. Many passers-by had a chance to participate in the opening, showing weaving to great advantage. It snowed each day and darkness approached with a magical dark blue shimmer around 4 pm, so our days were spent inside.

Rigid heddle bands with beautiful end finishing.

The theme of the symposium was boundless diversity–in techniques, expression, and mingling with others. In Tromsø I was nearer to Finland, Sweden, and Russia than in the more southerly areas of Norway, and the northern counties have traditionally had closer relations to these countries. To come closer to the Sami legacy was wonderful and exciting to a “southerner” who has learned little about Sami culture. “Boundless diversity” in techniques was reflected in a variety of band weaving methods: the border of a weaving on a warp-weighted loom, rigid heddle-woven bands in a sea of variation, and bands woven on a round stick from Archangelsk were inspiring. The “boundless diversity” in expression was reflected in the presenters, who focused on everything from art weaving to weaving as a profession, textile research, reconstruction and a historical focus on the Sami heritage and their handcraft – douidji. I’ll list some of the high points of the symposium.

Rigid heddle woven band, Russian (left) and Norwegian (right). From the Saturday workshop where participants got to try things out.

One of the most rewarding sessions for me was Sonja Vangen’s lecture on grene weaving; she is a living tradition-bearer with knowledge in her hands. Grene weaving is a tradition that has continued for centuries in Manndal, east of Tromsø. A grene is a thick, warm blanket woven on a grene loom [a warp-weighted loom]. A grene loom consists of two posts that lean against a wall, with a crosswise beam to which the warp is attached by sewing, with stones as weights. In contrast to other warp-weighted looms, plain stones are used as weights, not the typical warp weights in soapstone. Sonja told of collecting stones for a loom as a child, and the trick was to find stones of an equal weight which at the same time had an oblong form that were easy to attach with knots. The warp was wound by weaving with a heddle in a separate warping frame, where the weft becomes the warp for the grene loom. Every other thread is threaded through a half-heddle on a pick-up stick. Both the warp and weft are hand-spun. On Saturday Sonja Vangen demonstrated how a grene is woven. She learned to weave grene from her mother; everyone did when she was young. “You just had to,” she said. The weft should be thick and soft, traditionally spun on a spindle. The weft is still hand-spun, but now on a spinning wheel. Grene weavings functioned as blankets for the nomadic Sami and as tent coverings. The background color was always natural sheep white, with natural sheep dark color stripes; grey also appears. The use of color mirrored the coastal Sami’s flocks of sheep and the colors that naturally occurred. Only in more recent years has it become typical to include other colors in a grene. “Steinbittenner [Atlantic wolffish teeth] (a pattern in pick and pick technique) is commonly used in the bands.

A grene loom in miniature with natural stones as weights and a detail of a grene with, among others, the steinbittenner pick-and-pick pattern.

Preparing warp for a grene

Preparing warp for a grene

Charlotte Engstad was another inspiring woman. She runs Stellaria and told what it is like to live as a hand weaver–the challenges she faces, what she weaves, and her attitude toward handwork. She holds a doctorate in biology, trained later as an adult and is now a master handweaver, one of the few so designated in Norway. She weaves bunad [folk costume] fabric, scarves, and interior textiles. She is the only one I know who weaves with a flying shuttle. Visit her website and be inspired!

Åsa Elstad gave a presentation about a special textile find from Skjoldehamn on Andøya [the northernmost island in the Vesterålen archipelago, situated about 190 mi inside the Arctic circle]. A well-preserved costume dated from 1050-1100 was found in a bog; today it is Norway’s oldest textile. The costume consists of a jacket with a hat, shirt, pants, belt, and shoes. Who wore it, since it was too large for the skeleton with which it was found? Was the wearer Sami? A man or woman? We know nothing definitive. Kim Holte, a staff handworker at the Lofotr Viking Museum, holds courses in weaving a rigid heddle band from the costume. At the symposium opening she wore her handsewn pants, which were a reconstruction of the pants from Skjoldehamn–and they worked remarkably well in a modern context. [Read more about the costume here.]

As a continuation on the theme of clothing traditions in the north, Torunn Sedolfsen lectured on weaving traditions in Troms. We were able to leaf through fantastic notebooks with her reconstructed fabrics from two fabric sample collections in the Tromsø Museum. It was a wonderful collection of clothing fabric, bed textiles, and everyday textiles produced in homes in Berg and Torsken on the island of Senja, representing a good deal of women’s history. This work is on its way to becoming a book.

From the presentation by Ellen Kjellmo on boat rya.

Ellen Kjellmo spoke engagingly on båtrya [boat ryas]. She has also written a book, Båtrya: I Gammel og Ny Tid, which I most highly recommend–a substantial book with technical terms, informative photos, and well-documented handwork knowledge. During the short half-hour she had at her disposal she delved deep into coastal Norway’s traditions of weaving warm rya coverlets that fishermen used in their boats. A rya is called a sheepskin imitation, which is a fitting description–a solid weaving with durable guard hair in the warp, and with napp of soft and insulating inner-wool that together imitates a sheep fleece. A rya has the advantage of remaining pliable and holding its warming qualities even if it gets wet. A regular sheep fleece would become stiff and unusable from salt water.

On the second floor of the museum was a pop-up boutique with handwoven products for sale, woven bands from Archangelsk, blankets and shawls from Stellaria, books and weaving equipment from Norges Husflidslag. Kåfjorddalen Ullkarderi, operated by third generation wool carders who now focus on their own spinnery, sold carded wool as batts and roving. They card their wool without washing which means that the lanolin is preserved and the best characteristics of the wool come out. The museum shop was disappointing with its assortment of machine-woven shawls and souvenir products produced abroad. Why not focus more on local handwork?

Sergei Klykov from Arkhangelsk demonstrates band weaving with a round stick.

The only thing I missed with the Weaving Symposium was an exhibition of traditional textiles from the northern counties, both historical and newly-produced textiles. I also wish we had more time to mingle; the days were so fully packed with programs that we had little time to talk with the other attendees and create new friends. I’ll finish my travelogue with a poem by Rolf Jacobsen.

North

Look North more often

Go against the wind, you’ll get ruddy cheeks.

Find the rough path. Keep to it.

It’s shorter.

North is best.

Winter’s flaming sky, summer

night’s sun miracle.

Go against the wind. Climb mountains.

Look north.

More often.

This land is long

Most is north.

Translation by Robbie LaFleur and Kay Larson.

Hilde Opedal Nordby is an Norwegian textile artist working with traditional weaving techniques, as well as contemporary and digital weaving. She is based in Sundsvall in Sweden and is working as a teacher in the weaving department at Sätergläntan Institute of Crafts in Insjön, Sweden. She also has her own company offering courses and weaving services as well as hand woven textiles such as interior textiles and textiles for clothing.

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.

Warped (or Wrapped?) in Time

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By Melba Granlund
August 2018

For those of us fortunate enough to have traveled on some of the Vesterheim Textile Tours, we have been blessed by seeing and learning about the rich textile heritage of all the Nordic countries. We have marveled at, and been enriched by, the beauty of both historic and contemporary pieces seen in museums and artists’ studios — works of art created by old masters and new artists alike. We have also seen the tools and learned about the processes and techniques used to create some of these beautiful pieces.

Personally, I can’t get enough of the older pieces — those that were crafted using rudimentary tools like the warp-weighted loom, made before the invention of machines or mass production which eliminate the human component. I marvel at the skill of the weavers, some of whom wove with little or no light, using yarn the weaver first handspun with a drop spindle and then colored with natural dyes. Despite the fact that it would take several hundreds of hours to 1) grow the flax, process the flax, spin the flax into linen thread for weaving and then weave it, or 2) raise the sheep, clip the wool, wash the wool, card the wool, spin the wool, dye the wool and then weave cloth, these textiles were not only created for function, but were also beautiful. Threads and yarns dyed with woad blue or madder red in various weave structures (typically different types of twill) were common. Despite their simplicity, these looms allowed weavers to explore a variety of weave structures.

Warp-weighted loom history

While I have dabbled in many types of weaving, spinning and dyeing, my attention has been focused more recently on the warp-weighted loom and its use before, during and since the Viking era. This is perhaps due in part to my increased interest in history but probably also because I have recently begun playing a Viking age weaver in reenactment group settings and needed to construct hand-sewn garments of linen and woolen twill. This got me thinking more about how people would have actually done that, back in the day. A great example was that seen last summer at Sanglandet, the Iron Age, Stone Age, Viking Age and 19th century living history museum in Lejre, Denmark. In their Textile building we saw replications of period clothing made from cloth woven on the vertical and the warp weighted looms similar to those used during the Stone and Iron Ages. Outside the textile building, the dyer tended plants she was growing for extracting natural pigments to dye woolen yarn for weaving. Hanks of hand dyed yarn hung outside the front door of the building to show all the possibilities. She went into great detail about how she had developed different colors of red from the madder plant roots or blues from the leaves of the woad plant simply by adjusting the pH level either by the type of water she used or adding an acid like vinegar or an alkali like wood ashes. Inside the building we had seen the naturally dyed wool on both the warp weighted and the vertical loom. (See also: “Sagnlandet Lejre: Land of Legends (and Textiles”)

In the Viking era, warp-weighted looms were used to not only weave linen cloth for clothing, but woolen cloth for Viking sails and woolen vadmal (woolen twill) fabric used as trade goods or as currency to pay taxes or tithes to the church. Some think that the reason the Vikings took so many slaves as they conquered new territories was so there were enough people to care for all the sheep needed to produce enough wool and then to spin and weave all the wool needed to make sails for the large Viking ships (some estimate it took the fleece of 700 sheep to make one sail). Besides that, there were a lot of people to clothe, so woven cloth was required. The loom was also used to weave rya and the varafeldur (translated: “fur product”), which was for about 200 years the most traded commodity between the Vikings in Iceland and those in Norway. At the same time, the loom was also used to create pictorial weavings like that of the Överhogdal tapestries woven between 800-1100 AD.

Innovative modern loom weights

Coming to understand the importance of how much this loom played a part of everyday life for thousands of years, and for tens and hundreds of thousands of people, has really struck home. Weavers played an extremely vital role in keeping people clothed and fed and out of pauper’s prison. That’s why so many loom weights are found at archeological dig sites. Earliest evidence of the loom dates back to 7,000 B.C. in Jericho, Palestine, where loom weights were discovered lying in two distinct rows alongside of what had been the wall of a dwelling. Although the wooden parts of the loom had long since disappeared, the loom weights had not. As people of the Stone Age migrated north they brought the sheep and the warp-weighted loom with them. It reached Scandinavia around 300 A.D.

Designing a warp-weighted loom class

When I first learned how to weave on the loom, I knew I wanted to do more with this type of loom, and now I have. The prospect of teaching warp-weighted loom weaving came along with an idea I had about developing a curriculum for the Weavers Guild which would delve more deeply into historic textiles and how they were made. By using old looms and other handcraft tools, students would have an opportunity to experience a kinship to ancient weavers, spinners and dyers by carrying forward these older, traditional techniques. I shared the idea with two friends at the guild — fellow spinners and dyers — and it was settled. We would develop a program of classes and activities surrounding historical textile production, using only the tools and materials available prior to the Industrial Age. We dubbed ourselves “the ditch weeds and sticks committee” after a story one of them told a spinning student when the student complained she could not afford to buy a new spinning wheel. My friend’s reply was that she could teach her to spin using only ditch weeds (nettles) and sticks. Hence, the name. The idea was launched.

We met several times to discuss all the different avenues of exploration we could investigate. As the weaver in the group, I focused on weaving. The warp-weighted loom was an obvious choice. The only looms I knew of were at the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum. We needed our own, so my next hurdle was to have some looms made. Many hours of research on line and countless emails and conversations later, structural plans were developed, and a very kind and skillful woodworker was identified. He agreed to make the looms, and even volunteered his time. He did so in honor of his wife, whom he said loved to spend time at the guild and who wanted to learn how to weave on this type of loom. All we needed to do was to pay for the materials. Deal. Done.

A few short months later, the looms were finished and we were ready — classes could begin. I’m happy to say the first class has just finished. The first group of brave souls (four women and two men) included a first-time weaver and some who had taken a small number of weaving classes — a perfect blend of skill levels and interests to try out the “new” looms. Some used purchased commercial yarn and others their handspun.

The first class was an exploration of the weaving tradition of the Sami peoples. Students were challenged to learn how to set up the loom and weave a small Sami blanket or rug. Here are some students with work in progress.

While they were weaving, we talked about the history and provenance of the loom and I read them Njal’s Saga. While very graphic, it gives you insight as to the mystery of how the loom and weaving on it was perceived in ancient times.

“See! warp is stretched
For warriors’ fall,
Lo! weft in loom
‘Tis wet with blood;
Now fight foreboding,
‘Neath friends’ swift fingers,
Our grey woof waxeth
With war’s alarms,
Our warp bloodred,
Our weft corseblue.*
“This woof is y-woven
With entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted
With heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled
For spindles we use,
Our loom ironbound,
And arrows our reels;
With swords for our shuttles
This war-woof we work;
So weave we, weird sisters,
Our warwinning woof.

*The term “corseblue” does not refer to the texture of the wool yarn being “coarse” but instead refers to the fact that “of course” the yarn was blue.

Source: Darraðarljoð – The Battle Song of the Valkyries

One student’s perspective on the class

Beth McLaughlin wrote:

Beth McLaughlin’s stone weights. An ancient tradition set against mid-century modern linoleum.

Reason(s) to take the Warp Weighted Loom class:

Historic technique/technology

Explore the magic of transforming thread into fabric

Comradery

Palatable immersion into weaving

Fabulous instructor

Welcoming/comfortable classroom environment

My initial reason for enrolling in the Warp Weighted Loom class was to explore an ancient and universal weaving method. Okay, and the rocks. Who could you not be intrigued by a fiber processing method that involves rocks?! The second, and equally compelling reason for enrolling is the opportunity to take a class from Melba Granlund. Her knowledge, enthusiasm, quickness to smile, laugh, and answer your questions, and her inexhaustible patience (second only to my own dear mother) encapsulates all the desirable traits of a great instructor. There was no way to lose with this combination./opportunity/class.

Our initial one hour meeting sparked the desire to either step up my spinning game or go shopping for the yarn required for the Sami Grene. With a brief introduction to the history of this type of “primitive” loom and a plethora of references to consult, the six of us were sent on our way. A few weeks later, with around four pounds of yarn in tow, the first class was on a rainy Friday – a great kind of day to spend indoors in a studio filled with light, windows, and inspiration all around (looms, yarn, books, more books, and fiber art on display.) We began the day with a step by step outline and hands on guidance with each step of the process. Loom set-up came first, which required partnering up to handle the wood components of six foot wide loom frames. Next we were given cut lengths of yarn and a small rigid heddle to weave the header which also served to measure the six foot warps. We had two color options for the warp.

Next we lashed our header with warps to the heavy beam. The beam was installed on the loom and we were almost ready to weave. Next came the rocks (or stones, if you prefer). There were buckets full of beautiful, smooth stones from which we selected twenty-two. We carefully tied the warps around the stones. The looms were then ready!

Melba had a wide variety of pattern options to share via hands-on samples and in multiple books. We spent the rest of the day formulating patterns that would work with our individual color choices for wefts and wrestling with selvedges that liked to creep in. For three wonderful days straight in a row we worked away, concentrating, conversing and only occasionally cursing (maybe that was just me) when we had to unweave, noticed the selvedge creep, or had to retie fallen stones. It was like a weaving bender weekend. The time in class flew by.

We, fortunately, were able to leave the looms set up in the room and had access to them throughout the week during the Guild’s hours of operation. It was a delight to arrive late in the afternoon on three different occasions and find fellow classmates weaving away and to marvel at the progress on all the looms. The house elves were clearly busy in this place.

Our last class was the following Saturday. We continued with our pattern explorations and an hour before the end of class we released the stones, unfurled the weaving, and cut the fabric off the looms. The variations in the (almost) finished products were wonderful to witness. While slightly exhausted, I was completely inspired to weave more using this type of loom and this style of weft-faced weaving. Next step, to search for stones!

Wonderful results of the class

The next Sami rug class is scheduled for Nov/Dec 2018. (Check for classes at the website of the Weavers Guild of Minnesota.) More classes are being developed for 2019 including a Sampler of Norwegian Coverlet Patterns and a Varafeldur course. If you have a flock of sheep, or know someone who does, weaving a varafeldur is a special treat.

Weaving on the warp-weighted loom is a meditative process. It’s only you and the loom. You learn about the loom’s idiosyncrasies – what works and what doesn’t. It allows a new weaver to get a real grasp of what weaving is all about. As a teacher, my goal is to not only teach the technique, but to do what I can to educate others to appreciate the beauty and uniqueness of our Nordic handcraft traditions so these skills and crafts are not lost or forgotten. Along with learning the techniques, students learn about the historical and cultural contexts in which the item was originally made. By using the old looms and other handcraft tools, students have an opportunity to experience a kinship to ancient weavers and handcraft artists by being able to carry forward these traditions. If students choose to continue practicing the old, traditional techniques, then I’ve done my job.

Melba Granlund is a Swedish handcraft artist and teacher who focuses on the historical Scandinavian folk arts of weaving, felting, nålbinding, wire jewelry making, spinning, knitting, sewing and embroidery. As a life-long learner, she has received instruction from masters of these handcrafts in the U.S. as well as in Sweden, Norway, Denmark and Finland. Melba strives to keep Scandinavian folk art traditions alive by teaching and sharing what she has learned with others. She is an instructor for the Weavers Guild of Minnesota, the Textile Center, and for other organizations and groups on request. She currently serves on the WGM Board of Directors and is a member of the Scandinavian Weavers Study Group.

Craft and Identity Course Exhibit: The Students’ Statements

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By Heidi Goldberg, Associate Professor of Art

Examples of students’ warp-weighted loom weaving

Last summer from May 9^th through June 7^th, four students from Concordia College in Moorhead, Minnesota, went on a learning adventure. Alexis Anderson, Kristina Brunson, Rachel Johnson, and Alli Pahl joined me and her daughter Aubrie (a freshman at Oak Grove Lutheran High School in Fargo) for a month-long course in Norway, Craft and Identity. Their experience was celebrated in an exhibit at the Prairie Fiber Arts Center from January 12 – February 16, 2018. The samples they wove during a week-long course at the Osterøy Museum represented traditional åkler (bedspread) designs from Western Norway and varafeldur (Viking cloak). Below are the artist statements written for the exhibit; they demonstrate the meaningful experience of immersive, hands-on craft instruction. As Kristina Brunson wrote, “Sometimes when looking at things, there isn’t a great appreciation for it until you’ve done it yourself. It also means a lot more after putting your own hard work into something.”

The Craft and Identity group (left to right); Aubrie Goldberg, Kristina Brunson, Rachel Johnson, Alli Pahl, Alexis Anderson, and Heidi Goldberg

Alexis Anderson

The most impactful part of the Craft and Identity course for me was the weaving workshop in Osterøy. It was my first time weaving with a warp-weighted loom and I very much enjoyed the whole process. The weaving workshop gave me the opportunity to throw myself into making art. Rarely do I and will I have the chance to truly live and feel like an artist for a week: daily walks to and from the museum, spending hours on end deeply engaged in creation, eating our matpakke in the studio and picking right back up shortly afterwards. This workshop showed me that I have what it takes to dedicate myself to a project that seems intimidating and larger than myself at first, and that I can be an artist in whatever way I choose. The weaving workshop was the most impactful for me because it taught me the most about myself: I can be patient and go with the flow; I can be hard on myself, but I can easily shake my mistakes off, learn from them, and move on; and I can learn a new skill and be successful if I dedicate my energy and time to it. Throughout the four weeks of this course I found myself increasingly noticing the art and beauty that surrounds us all. My eyes have been opened to the art that exists naturally and it has made the world a more colorful place.

Rachel Johnson

I am a Social Studies Education major at Concordia College. While at the Osterøy Museum during the Craft and Identity class, I worked on an åkle weaving on a warp weighted loom. The most challenging part of weaving was the process of setting up the loom. There is a lot of preparation, about a day’s work, to do before one can even start weaving. I really enjoyed picking out traditional patterns from weavings in their collection and using traditional colors in my own small sample piece. My absolute favorite part of our time at the Osterøy Museum was our teachers. Marta and Monika were wonderful, incredibly knowledgeable, and extremely patient.

Alli Pahl

Last May 9th through June 7th, I had the opportunity to attend the Craft and Identity course. The course offered many experiences that we all learned so much from, but one of the biggest learning weeks for me was the week we spent in Osterøy. While in Osterøy we had the opportunity to spend a week at the Hordaland Museum where we learned how to warp and weave on a warp-weighted loom from amazing weavers, Marta and Monika. It was an experience that I will never forget. I had never done any sort of weaving before so it was definitely something new for me, and was much harder to do than I had originally thought. After seeing Marta and Monika’s works along with museum pieces, and in the process of working on a weaving myself, I gained so much respect for weavers and the work they do. It truly was an amazing experience to learn from such talented artists. Not only did they teach us about weaving techniques, but they also talked about the history of these weavings, and they taught us about making and using natural dyes. Throughout the month we spent in Norway, it opened my eyes to so many different types of art forms and techniques. There was so much we learned historically from going to places such as Maihaugen (an open-air museum in Lillehammer), where we got to see the old houses of Norway and learn about how people during lived in previous centuries. Norway is a place filled with art and beautiful scenery, and this was a trip I will never forget.

Kristina Brunson

The Craft and Identity trip was no less than amazing. The experience and culture that was obtained on the trip is something I’ll remember and will forever influence how I look at the world around me. I have also gained a greater appreciation for the skill, effort, and hard work it takes to do things such as weaving. Weaving takes more time and patience than it may look. It took almost a day and half before actually being able to start weaving. While working on the weavings there were a variety of different techniques to learn to get different patterns such as tabby (plain weave), krogbragd (crooked path), and rutevev (square-weave), just to name a few. After learning some of the different patterns it made things go a bit faster but it still took time, which was ok as it gave a perspective of how much work it really takes, even though the weaving is a lot smaller than normal size for the traditional akler (woven bedspread). Sometimes when looking at things, there isn’t a great appreciation for it until you’ve done it yourself. It also means a lot more after putting your own hard work into something. This experience has opened my eyes and changed how I see things and appreciate the hard work and dedication it takes to do handcrafts like weaving.

Aubrie Goldberg

Weaving on Østeroy brought a new perspective to me about how much work used to be put into every aspect of a person’s day to day life. I worked on making a varafel sampler. The traditional varafel would have been used by the Vikings as a large cloak to keep them warm and dry. This would have been a valued item at the time for obvious reasons. I observed the process of making the åkler, which were used as thick blankets on a bed. They were very colorful and tastefully designed. I realized how much work was put into every object. Everything was crafted by hand, from the table-wear to the homes. It’s crazy how much time was spent making things then compared to now with all the machines doing a lot of work. Most people have lost sight of what it takes to make something by hand and especially how long it takes to get good at it. For me, art and craft are both very rewarding. I enjoy spending my time working on something creative that will be enjoyed by others and myself. Weaving on Østeroy was a valuable experience.

Book Review: The Warp-Weighted Loom

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The Warp-Weighted Loom, by Hildur Hákonardóttir, Elizabeth Johnston, Marta Kløve Juuhl, Edited by Randi Andersen and Atle Ove Martinussen

(This book can be purchased through the bookstore of the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum.)

By Wendy Sundquist

I love books that turn out to be more than what you originally expected them to be. The Warp-Weighted Loom is one of those books. Over the years I have seen exquisitely fine fabric that Elizabeth Johnston has woven on the standing loom at Old Scatness in Shetland. I was able to handle the vararfeldur that Marta Kløve Juulh had in her possession on the Vesterheim Textile Tour in 2011. It was remarkably soft and lightweight, fitting into a cloth shopping bag. After these experiences, I was really looking forward to this new book.

This interdisciplinary book is a product of the main three authors’ research and weaving in collaboration with the Osterøy Museum and The Museum Center in Hordaland and others. It serves in part as a way to transfer and preserve the skills and knowledge within this traditional craft, which are truly our intangible cultural heritage.

The Warp-Weighted Loom is bound in a manner that is reminiscent of a bound book from the Middle Ages, with thick cardboard covers and no spine. The section-sewn binding makes this book incredibly accessible for reading and as a tool for instruction at the loom.

The book is written primarily in English and is divided into 3 sections. Part 1 is an introduction to the 1000 year history of the warp-weighted loom told by Hákonardóttir, Johnston and Kløve Juuhl from their individual country’s perspectives of Iceland, Shetland and Norway. Part 2 is a practical handbook that includes how to make, operate and weave on a standing loom. This section includes detailed photos, and step-by-step instructions that are written in English, Icelandic and Norwegian. It also covers some of the textiles traditionally produced on these looms, how to reproduce them, and an overview of spinning. Part 3 is dedicated to research on a broad range of topics by several different authors. Topics include The Loom in the Grave, Icelandic Textiles, Finishing Cloth in the Sea, Taatit Rugs, Weaving in the Dark, Safeguarding an Intangible Cultural Heritage and more.

The Warp-Weighted Loom is a remarkable book on so many levels. It undertakes the preservation of women’s history as it relates to weaving and wadmal production within the North Atlantic cultural heritage. But more importantly, it recognizes and addresses that the “knowledge of old crafts will be lost, if not maintained; the only way to do so is to conserve them, promote them and teach them.” (Sigridur Sigurdardottir p. 267)

This book is a must have for any serious weaver or student of Nordic textiles. It is a joy!

Wendy Sundquist is a knitter, spinner, natural dyer, and weaver with a life-long passion for Scandinavian textiles. She currently shepherds a geriatric flock of Shetland sheep on Whidbey Island in Washington state.

Diamond Twill Woven on a Warp-weighted Loom

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Editor’s note: Marta Kløve Juuhl wrote this article for the Østeroy museum blog, and for readers of the Norwegian Textile Letter, after receiving many inquiries about their investigation of diamond twill weave on the warp-weighted loom. If you would rather read the original Norwegian text, it is found here. The English translation below is thanks to Edi Thorstonsson.

After having given many classes in weaving on the vertical loom, including at Østerøy Museum, where I work, and at Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum, in Decorah, Iowa, I had Elizabeth Johnston from the Shetland Islands and Hildur Håkonardottir from Iceland as students in a class at Østerøy Museum in the summer of 2010. After the course, we discovered that we had so much in common that we wanted to continue our work together. We hope that our combined efforts will result in a published book. Others have become aware of our work, and we have received some inquiries about weaving particular textiles using this technique.

Up to the present, what has been the most exciting—and demanding—for us has been to weave fabric in broken lozenge twill, also known as diamond twill.

A few years ago, objects including a tunic were found at the edge of a glacier, Lendbreen, in Lomsfjella (Gudbrandsdalen). This tunic was in amazingly good condition. It was eventually conserved by the Kulturhistorisk Museum (Museum of Cultural History) in Oslo and described as being 1,700 years old. Information regarding the find was placed on the Internet.

Last spring (2013), the director of the Norsk Fjellmuseum i Lom (Norwegian Mountain Museum, Lom) called us at the Østerøy Museum to tell us that this tunic would be exhibited during the summer of 2013. They would like to borrow a warp-weighted loom from us, therefore, for the purpose of demonstrating the kinds of equipment used to produce cloth. Lise Bender, textile historian and specialist in the study of Iron Age textiles, had determined that the fabric had been woven on a vertical warp-weighted loom. We were pleased to lend our loom to the Fjellmuseum, which promptly came to pick it up.

Then, a couple of weeks later, the museum director called again and asked whether we might consider weaving fabric in diamond twill on the warp-weighted loom that could remain on the loom through the summer. To this we answered yes, with a bit more hesitation. I don’t believe that the people at the Mountain Museum quite knew what they were asking for…

Weaving diamond twill on a horizontal loom is a simple matter, as it is on a vertical loom as well, if one knows how. But the first time requires a lot of thought.

What kind of yarn should we use?
How many threads per centimeter should there be?
How large should the “diamonds” be?
How heavy should the warp weights be?

We could not find the answers to such matters, because the conservation report on the tunic could not be made public before it had been published in a national professional journal. Besides, not all answers to our questions would likely be found there.

But there were good images of the tunic on the Internet, and we knew that the material was made of wool yarn. It so happened that we had arranged earlier for Elizabeth to be at the museum with us during this week in May, which was incredibly good timing.

We ordered yarn from Hoelfeldt-Lund Norsk Kunstvevgarn (Helfeldt-Lund Norwegian Fine Handweaving Yarns), single ply spelsau yarn number 4.5, gray for the warp, brown for the weft. This yarn is suited for 10 warp ends per centimeter and somewhat fewer in the weft. We then calculated that our fabric would be slightly courser than the original, without being sure. We later learned that our calculation was correct.

Using the photographs on the Internet, we were able to determine how many threads there were in each “diamond” or repeat. The photographs were so good, in fact, that we could count the threads. Therefore, we counted the repeat using a close-up of one of the sleeves.

We decided to wind a warp 60 centimeters wide in the reed, that is, 600 warp ends, and use a heading cord along the beam edge, as is done in weaving åkler (coverlets) in the West Norwegian tradition. Of course, we knew nothing as to what method was used in setting up the original textile, but we knew how to carry out this method and that it would work well. Besides, since we had so little information about the original, ours could not be an exact copy.

We started out cautiously with light loom weights, 50 grams per warp end. This worked.

So far, so good. The biggest problem were the heddles. For diamond twill, one needs four sheds: 3 heddle rods and a 4^th natural shed. The warp is threaded so that points appear in the woven fabric. These points result when one threads two or one warp ends in their heddles on a particular order. With the help of Marta Hoffmann’s The Warp Weighted Loom, we figured out the procedure, which we modified for “our” cloth. Elizabeth and I worked together to thread the heddles. I stood behind the loom and picked out the threads that she, who stood in front of the loom, then knitted the heddles around. We threaded the second and fourth heddle rods (counted from the top) at the same time, and lastly the first heddle rod at the top. The natural shed corresponded to rod number three and remained between rods two and four during the weaving. In order to make sure that we wouldn’t skip any threads on rods two and four, we followed a rule that we repeated aloud every time: single, double, double, double, double, double, single times 2. This was one repeat. Each repeat, therefore, had 24 threads in both the warp and weft.

This process was the most time-consuming. All else was quite easy. After three days’ worth of fairly intensive work, the loom was ready. We wove enough to see that our technique was correct.

Then, Elizabeth returned home to the Shetland Islands, and Randi Andersen, director of our museum, and I removed the fabric from the loom, with the heddle rods still in place, and drove to Lom. When the Norwegian Mountain Museum opened for the summer, our cloth was on the loom, alongside the glass case with the tunic inside. I stood weaving on the opening day, and everyone saw the similarity between our cloth and that of the tunic.

Hildur was not physically part of this process, since she was back home in Iceland. Just the same, we all agree that all three of us can take equal credit for what we succeeded in doing.

Marta Kløve Juuhl taught weaving in the Norwegian Husflidsskole system for many years. She now works part-time at Østerøy museum, primarily with textiles, and also in her private studio. Her current commissions include bands for bunads and wall hangings for churches.

Warp-Weighted Loom Classes at Vesterheim, July 2013

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By Melba Granlund

The Warp-weighted Loom

Based on finds in ancient burial sites in the Palestine city of Jericho, it has been estimated that the warp-weighted loom dates back 9,000 years – or to the seventh millennium BC. As such, it is the oldest type of loom and, remarkably, remains in use even today. No one has ascertained the exact location where the warp-weighted loom was first developed, but evidence of its use is widespread across Europe, Asia Minor, and Scandinavia, as far north as the Arctic Circle.

Sketch by Kay Larson

It’s my guess that the simplicity of the loom construction, and the ease with which it can be moved from place to place, are the reasons why it has survived so long. The warp-weighted loom consists of two vertical uprights, a horizontal warp beam, a shed rod, a heddle rod and weights. Warp threads are held parallel under tension by being tied in small bundles to weights made from either stone, round rings of fired clay, or metal. In Norway, soapstone was often used. A spacing cord is used to keep the threads in order, half of which are positioned through string heddles attached to the heddle rod, enabling the weaver to create two sheds for the weaving process. More complex patterns and weave structures such as krokbragd, rosepath, boundweave, and twill are also possible with the use of additional heddles or by finger-picking additional sheds.

Because of my love for all things old, I have long wanted to try my hand at using one of these looms. My opportunity came this summer at Vesterheim. Vesterheim staff invited Marta Kløve Juuhl to come from Norway and teach two warp-weighted loom classes, held during the two weeks prior to the annual Nordic Fest. The first class wove a Sami grene (blanket) using handspun wool in natural colors. In the second class, students chose between two weaving techniques – one, a western Norwegian åkle using traditional colors of ryegarn, and the other, a rya, “the Viking way.” As it turned out, I was able to be a student in both classes. In the second class I chose the western Norwegian åkle.

Marta taught classes twice before at Vesterheim. Among other projects, Marta currently teaches warp-weighted loom weaving at the Østerøy Museum in Norway. She describes her life as that which revolves around weaving, as that is all she does. Her dedication to, and knowledge of, weaving was obvious from the start. Marta’s easy-going and caring nature made the experience a joy for everyone. She could trouble-shoot any problem and anticipated when you were going to have a problem even before it happened. If you made an error, she showed you how to correct it and did so in a nurturing manner. She is one of those teachers you will always remember with fondness and gratitude.

: Marta Kløve Juuhl winding a header (Photo: Robbie LaFleur)

Sami Grene

Instruction in the first class began by learning about the Sami tradition of grene weaving, which is still being practiced today by women in Finnmark, the northernmost region of Norway. Those familiar with Sami band weaving and Sami folk dress may think that all Sami clothing is adorned with brilliant colors of red, yellow, and blue. Not so. We learned the Sami people are currently wearing more clothing in natural colors, and not as many multi-colored garments as in the past. This was also true of the grene, where only natural colored wool is used. Marta’s sample grene piece was made from luxurious Norwegian sheep wool, handspun by a Sami woman from Finnmark. The wool was not from the Norwegian Spelsau sheep, but from a Norwegian ”white” sheep, which according to Marta is now more common in Norway. Marta arranged for us to order this same lovely handspun wool, and she brought over 70 skeins for the class. The grene incorporates three separate qualities or weights of wool – a different weight each for the header, the warp yarn and the weft yarn – each spun in a different technique, either for strength or loft. The yarn is truly distinctive, and is not available at any Husflid in Norway (trust me, I know, because I tried to find it). While some class members chose to bring their own handspun, we all used wool in the natural colors of the sheep: white, grey, or natural black. One student even brought her own loom to the grene class, homemade following a picture she had seen in a children’s book.

A variety of natural sheep colors in the student pieces (Photo: Melba Granlund)

The Sami grene begins with a header or narrow band woven in a checkerboard pattern using a small heddle. Extensions of the weft threads from the header are used for the warp threads. The header band with lengthy warp threads is lashed onto the top warp beam, and then the warp threads are arranged to create two sheds using a series of string heddles and a finger-crocheted spacing chain to keep them in order.

Sami grene header (Photo: Melba Granlund)

The header is lashed to the loom (Photo: Melba Granlund)

Typical Sami pattern designs were depicted for us in the sample piece Marta had woven for the class and in the references provided in the Østerøy Museum booklet, Oppstadveven. In addition, we viewed a Sami grene on display in the Sami collection at the Vesterheim Museum.

Grene owned by Vesterheim (Photo: Vesterheim staff)

Weft yarn for the grene was made up into large butterflies called “udoos.” As you can imagine, there were a lot of jokes flying about using, and abusing, that term. As weaving progressed, the weft threads were eased into place by grasping and pulling apart the loose warp threads below, snapping the weft threads upward into position.

Western Norway Åklæ

We began the åkle with a twisted cord as the header, made from four strands of the same yarn to be used in the åkle (red, blue, green, gold). The twisted cord is lashed to the top beam of the loom. Warp threads are then inserted through the header at so many threads per centimeter, attached to weights, arranged in string heddles, and finally connected by a spacing chain to keep them in order, similar to that done for the grene. Weft yarns were bundled up in “udoos” the same as for the grene, and as weaving progressed, rows of weft threads were beaten into position using a weaving sword made of wood or bone. As an alternative, you could pull apart the warp threads to snap the weft yarn into place, as we did with the grene. At the edges, we used the western Norway technique of carrying the yarn at the selvedge rather than cutting the yarn with each color change. This creates a thicker edge, different from other weaving.

Students chose their own weaving patterns. My inspiration came from an åkle in the Vesterheim collection which is depicted in Kay Larsen’s book, The Woven Coverlets of Norway. I decided to incorporate as many krokbragd patterns as I could find depicting crosses, as well as tapestry techniques including rutevev and Vestfoldmett. As an experimental color study, two other students decided to weave the same band patterns, but using different colors.

Curator Laurann Gilbertson inspired students with coverlets from the Vesterheim collection.

Five students wove ryas. One rya weaver, who brought her own loom and planned to weave fabric to use in Viking reenactments, chose to weave a twill requiring four sheds. She explained that twill fabric has been found dating back to the late Bronze Age in Denmark.

For use as a Viking-era shawl, Elizabeth Christianson wove a rya with a twill base. (Photo: Melba Granlund)

Lessons Learned

Much to my surprise, while I thought I would not be able to tolerate standing all day at the loom, it came easy — I found it easier than sitting at a floor loom all day long. Another thing that became apparent to me is that I spend a lot of time trying to make a decision about which patterns to choose, as there are so many beautiful ones from which to pick.

Probably the most important thing I discovered, however, was that when using a warp-weighted loom, be sure you have enough rocks! It became obvious about halfway through my first project that my grene was doomed to fail due to the lack of enough rocks and the inconsistency in their sizes. There weren’t enough rocks for everyone in the class, and the stones varied in weight widely. The inconsistent/inadequate warp string bundles caused my piece to draw in severely toward the center, as there was more weight there than on the outside warp threads. I considered repositioning the heavy rocks to the outside, but decided that that might just have caused warp thread draw-in at a different area, or cause the piece to be tweaked or stretched to one side and make it more difficult to keep an even beat and straight lines. So I left them as they were, which was probably a mistake. I tried to compensate by leaving 3-4 inches of extra weft thread at each selvedge in each row, which was then needled into position towards the middle, trying to force the warp threads further apart. While that helped, it was not sufficient to solve the problem completely. Oh, well, it’s just a practice piece, I told myself. Next time, I will devote more attention to this part of the set up. Thankfully, I did not have this problem in the second class as more weights were found for all the looms, including weights in the form of water bottles. In retrospect, I probably should have done something similar for my grene.

Even, successful distribution of rocks in the second class (Photo: Melba Granlund)

At the end of these classes, many of us had fallen in love with this type of loom, and if we didn’t already have one, we wanted one and were looking for ways to acquire one, either by outright purchase or having one built. I’m still working on that part, as my åkle isn’t done and needs to get back on a loom to be finished. Even if my piece were done, I know that I will definitely be doing more weaving on this “way-back machine” called a warp-weighted loom.

REFERENCES

By og Bygd 1983, Norsk Folkemuseums Årbok: Paper by Elsa E. Gudjonson, “Nogle Bemærkninger om den Islandske Wægtvev, vestadur.”
Hansen, Egon H. Opstadvæv Før og Nu. København, Denmark: Teamcos forlag, (1978)
Hoffman, Marta. Fra Fiber til Tøy. Oslo, Norway: Landbruksforlaget A/S, 1991.
Hoffman, Marta. The Warp-Weighted Loom. Robin and Russ Handweavers, 1964.
Kåstad, Anna Østerbø. Oppstadveven. Østeroy Museum, 2000.
Sundt, Eilert. Om Husfliden i Norge. Oslo, Norway: Gyldendal, 1975.

Go Big or Go Home – The Importance of Textile Width

The initial study

The 2022 study

Katherine Larson lives on Bainbridge Island, Washington. She has a doctorate from the University of Washington, where she is an affiliate faculty member in the Department of Scandinavian Studies, and she is the author of The Woven Coverlets of Norway.

Read the full academic article by Larson and Marta Kløve Juuhl from Archaeological Textiles Review: “Norwegian double-cloth: warp-weighted loom experiments in a complicated technique”

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

Translation by Robbie LaFleur and Kay Larson.

Loop History

Inspiration from Ancient Textiles

Looping at the Greve Museum

Going Back in Time

End of Year at Skals

On to Norway for Hands-On Classes

Factory Time

Oleana!

Time Flies By

In Conclusion

Additional Information:

Warp-weighted loom history

Designing a warp-weighted loom class

One student’s perspective on the class

Wonderful results of the class

The Warp-Weighted Loom, by Hildur Hákonardóttir, Elizabeth Johnston, Marta Kløve Juuhl, Edited by Randi Andersen and Atle Ove Martinussen

Wendy Sundquist is a knitter, spinner, natural dyer, and weaver with a life-long passion for Scandinavian textiles. She currently shepherds a geriatric flock of Shetland sheep on Whidbey Island in Washington state.

Marta Kløve Juuhl taught weaving in the Norwegian Husflidsskole system for many years. She now works part-time at Østerøy museum, primarily with textiles, and also in her private studio. Her current commissions include bands for bunads and wall hangings for churches.

By Melba Granlund

The Warp-weighted Loom

Sami Grene

Western Norway Åklæ

Lessons Learned

REFERENCES

By Melba Granlund

melba.granlund (at) gmail.com