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Nordic Notes, August 2021

Classes

The fall and winter classes from Vesterheim Folk Art School include great new offerings, both for in-person and online classes. Check out the weaving list and the fiber arts list. You could needle felt a fjord horse, like the one shown here, in Laura Berlage’s class

 

Video

Karina Siegmund is a Norwegian artist. She was born in Germany, and now lives in Stadlandet, Sogn og Fjordane, where she surfs year-round(!). From her website: “Karina Siegmund creates audio-visual tapestry installations, and her use of sound and light gives her audience an experience of patterns in motion. Her motifs are taken from nature, in the form of a stormy cloud-cover on the sky, falling water, or the surface of the sea.” Meet her in this beautiful six-minute film

In a short (20-minute) talk in the Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum “Collections Connections” series, Robbie LaFleur acts as a “billedvev design detective.” Focusing on tapestries owned by the museum, she describes how a few of the most common motifs in traditional Norwegian tapestry are honored and repeated over time. See: “Investigating Norwegian Billedvev: A Conversation with Robbie LaFleur.”

For fans of tablet weaving! The Swedish Sörmlands museum posted a video (44 minutes) on the tablet weaving of Sonja Berlin several years ago. See: Brickväva band med Sonja Berlin. It is inspiring to see her work and studio, and the instruction and tips are valuable. It has English subtitles. There is a shorter video on Icelandic double weave bands woven with tablets (13 minutes), but it does not include subtitles. 

 

 

 

 

Socially Distanced, Creatively Connected: A Special Juried Folk Art Exhibition Highlighting Pandemic Creativity

A Special Exhibit at Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum
July 2 to December 31, 2021

“2020 Bunad Mask” by Kathleen Almelien

Carrying forward the spirit and mission of Vesterheim Folk Art School, this exhibition includes  woodworking, rosemaling, knifemaking, blacksmithing, jewelry, weaving, and fiber art.

The artwork follows Norwegian folk-art traditions but also includes contemporary departures from the historical. Although the COVID-19 pandemic has caused many interruptions across the globe, creativity and the freedom of artistic expression has flourished, and the artwork that everyone submitted was inspirational.

The stories behind the artworks are equally interesting. The pandemic offered opportunities to learn a new skill, complete a project that was started some years ago, or celebrate family. Among the 70 pieces in a variety of media, textile makers were well represented. Enjoy their stories here, beginning with quilter Mike Ellingsen, whose piece won a Juror’s Awardcongratulations. A People’s Choice Award will be determined at the end of the show in December. There is plenty of time for a trip to Decorah to make your choice! 

Mike Ellingsen, Decorah, IA
Bergen Fretex 2018

The front of the quilt is pieced cotton fabric with a 100% cotton batting and a 200 thread count muslin back. 

Visiting friends just before the onset of COVID-19, I noticed a woven rutevev (geometric square weave) tapestry on their living room wall. It had been purchased at the Fretex (Salvation Army) store in Bergen, Norway, in 2018. I took a photo for future inspiration. The world then stopped. I designed a quilt based on the photo, and created it totally from fabrics I already owned – no new purchases! The quilting patterns are based on rosemaling designs.

A retired high school choir and drama director, I’ve been quilting for about 40 years. The second floor of our Decorah home is my quilt studio. I am a quilter, pattern designer, lecturer, and teacher – and Minnesota’s 2020-2021 Quilter of the Year.

Laura Berlage, Hayward, WI
Inspired by Rosemaling

This needle felted artwork uses hand dyed wool, from the sheep on my farm, on a felt backing and was inspired by Telemark rosemaling. 

My burgeoning online connections during the pandemic have not only drawn me into the Vesterheim community but also allowed me to connect with fellow instructors and enthusiasts. Vesterheim staff gave me the challenge of creating a piece inspired by some of the artifacts in the collection, and I delightedly partnered with rosemaler Patti Goke to learn about this amazing art form and translate it into felt.

I’ve been working in fiber arts since I was at least eight years old but took up needle felting more recently. The delicate art of the painting with wool invites exploration of techniques and imagery otherwise difficult to capture in fiber.

Robbie LaFleur, Minneapolis, MN
Baldishol Duck

This was woven with open warp transparent tapestry in the style of noted Norwegian artist Frida Hansen using Norwegian spelsau-sheep yarn.

On March 12, 2020, I had woven three inches of this piece for a summer exhibit at Norway House. The imagery includes design elements from the famous Norwegian medieval Baldishol tapestry, and a bird. Two figures in the old tapestry represent April and May. My wood duck represents spring. Would the show even happen? Yes! This duck will forever be tied to uncertainty, social unrest, masks, and social distancing.

I was educated in traditional Norwegian weaving at Valdres Husflidsskole in Fagernes, Norway, in 1977. I received my Vesterheim Gold Medal in 2006. I am coordinator of the Weavers Guild of Minnesota’s Scandinavian Weavers Study Group and publisher of the Norwegian Textile Letter.

Margaret Listug, Stoughton, WI
Shawl for a Sør-Trøndelag Bunad

This is wool yarn embroidery – satin stitch and outline stitch – on wool fabric.

I loved the vivid colors against the black wool. It gave me hope during the dark days of the pandemic and gave me the goal of getting it completed as a daily focus, not the news.

I have been embroidering since I was a child and making Norwegian bunader (national costumes) for over 30 years. I have a degree in Textiles and Clothing from the University of Wisconsin- Madison.

Sharon Moe-Marquardt, Henning, MN
COVID Relief

This is a pillow in rosepath using 16/3 linen warp and a warp of Norwegian Brodergarn and Swedish Faro.

The Scandinavian Weavers Study Group of the Minnesota Weavers Guild are weaving rosepath pillows and many had been using the looms at the Textile Center of Minnesota in Minneapolis. Since I live in greater Minnesota, I proceeded on my own. My interpretation came from a vintage pillow, but I gave mine bright colors as I sat in quarantine for three weeks.

I met Syvilla Tweed Bolson in the early 1990s. I had tried weaving krokbragd (boundweave) from a book, but ran into roadblocks. From my first lesson with Syvilla, I continued to take lessons from her and at Vesterheim with teachers like Lila Nelson and Marta Kløve Juuhl.

Ann Prochowicz, Trempealeau, WI
Wintertide Windows Scarf

This is a handknit “infinity” scarf. It was knit using fingering-weight yarn in a blend of 80% Merino wool and 20% nylon.

Design inspiration came from solitary winter walks in the early morning and late afternoon. Square motifs represent the windows of the houses I pass, as well as the grid-like pattern of the village streets. Sometimes the streets are intersected, hence the shift to diagonal triangles. The colors shift through the blues and purples of stormy winter skies. These motifs are isolated, yet connected.

I taught myself to knit almost 40 years ago, and have been designing for over 30 years. The Nordic influence is so very strong in knitting, and the geometric motifs carry over into other media that I work in, such as weaving, pastels, and sewing.

Rosemary Roehl, St. Cloud, MN
Autumn Delights

This is a wall hanging using the Monks Belt technique. I used Norwegian wool yarn on a linen warp.

I began weaving using the Monks Belt tie-up at the beginning of the pandemic. I hadn’t woven anything using this tie-up for some time. NOW I had plenty of time to redress my loom. I was weaving for myself and continued exploring different combinations of color and patterns until I received my first vaccination on January 18th. It was then time to switch to a different technique and tie-up.

I have been weaving since 1979 after my first visit to Norway and am self taught in the Norwegian tradition. I first entered the National Norwegian-American Folk Art Exhibition in 1983, won my first ribbon in 1986, and won my Gold Medal in 1992. I am a retired teacher.

Beth Rotto, Decorah, IA
Four Decades to Bloom Hooked Rug

This is made from both recycled wool clothing (for the flowers and leaves) and new wool (for the background) on a burlap backing.

Back in the 1970s, I decided to try rug hooking. Esther Miller of Decorah encouraged me, but as sometimes happens with a too-big first project, at some point it was set aside. It was rediscovered in 2020, the perfect thing to do in lock-down. Although not your usual Nordic craft, there are many Norwegian Americans who do it, and making rugs from old clothes is a long-standing tradition in many Norwegian homes.

Like Mom & Grandma, I’ve worked with fibers since childhood, mostly knitting but also dabbling in weaving, klostersøm, rug braiding, felting, and dyeing. When laid off in March 2020, and my music gigs were cancelled, I unearthed some unfinished handwork.

Marit Nelson, White Sulphur Springs, WV
handlinger

This is an appliqued art quilt inspired by Telemark rosemaling. The applique is recycled silk tie material. The background is wool suiting fabric.

I was in a fashion design program in New York City when the pandemic began. I was supposed to have my first fashion show in May. I had collected hundreds of old neckties to repurpose into garments. I started making art quilts with the material, since the fashion show was cancelled. This quilt was inspired by Telemark rosemaling. The phrase handlinger speaks to making your own happiness, because it won’t just happen.

I have always been very interested in my Norwegian heritage and have also always been an avid crafter. Naturally, the two interests collided and I started to teach myself rosemaling when I was around 10 years old.

[Editor’s note: The phrase on the quilt translates to: “Luck isn’t something that already exists; it is created by your own actions.”

Shan Rayray, Puyallup, WA
Spring Tablecloth

This tablecloth is worked in hardangersøm or Hardanger embroidery. DMC pearl cotton threads in pink and white on white Hardanger 22-count fabric.

I wanted to make a tablecloth for entertaining my Norwegian friends. I found this design in a German Hardanger embroidery magazine. I took their basic design and made it my own by changing the stitches of the framework, adding in design to the center squares, extending the center design edges, and adding in more detail to the hem.

I’ve been doing hardangersøm since I was a young girl. I learned from my great-great Aunt Barbro when she visited from Stavanger. She spoke no English, only old Norse. She taught me the traditional way to learn: watch and repeat.

Maree Hampton, Minneapolis, MN
Returning to Finish the Fana and Feel Loved

The Norwegian Fana sweater was knit on circular needles with worsted weight yarn with steeked armholes.

With lockdown, stress ensued. Knowing knitting calms the mind, I eagerly took to my needles. As pandemic projects became popular, I turned to finish a sweater. My mom died of a stroke in 2017. While by her side, I reached to knit my Fana project. Tears streamed down and were absorbed in the wooI. Swallowed by profound grief, I put it aside. Lockdown allowed me to finish and feel the love of my mom.

I’ve knit for 30 years. My cousin, Åshild, taught me to knit when I lived on a farm near where my great-grandparents were from. My desire to knit was driven by my love of Norwegian sweaters, hats, mittens, and my Norwegian heritage (mom’s side).

 
Winnie Johnson, Mesa, AZ
Rose Path Rug
 
This “rag rug” is made with 8/4 cotton carpet warp threaded in a rosepath design and cotton sheeting for the weft. I experimented with a variety of treadlings.
     
On recent travels to Scandinavia, I’ve purchased a number of weaving books and photographed a number of rugs on the floor of various museum buildings. When the pandemic hit, I put a long warp on the loom and experimented with rosepath designs. This rug contains a number of designs from photos and books.
 
I’ve been a rug weaver for several decades, but until recent travels in Scandinavia introduced me to different styles, I had not varied my construction methods. I’ve recently added rep weave and rosepath designs to my repertoire.
 
Lisa Torvik, Saint Paul, MN
Langskip for Atle (Long Ships for Atle)
 
This is a transparent hanging of 16/2 line linen warp with inlay of line and tow linen and securing shots of line linen. The technique is similar to tapestry, but with finer yarns. 
 
Late in the winter of 2020, I set up my loom for my piece for the Baldishol exhibition at Norway House in Minneapolis, and started weaving in early March. I needed a test piece and also wanted a gift for a Viking-loving relative in Norway, whom we were to visit. Alas, we could not travel, and his Viking reenactment trip to Iceland in summer was also canceled, so I was inspired to make him some ships.
 
My mother introduced me to weaving, and as a teenager I took a class from Lila Nelson. A trip to Norway in 1970 and working at Valdres Folkemuseum in 1972 piqued my interest. I spent 1974 in weaving school in Norway and brought home my loom.
 
Kathleen Almelien, Washington, IA
2020 Bunad Mask
 
The midband “O” is a 13-strand pickup weave of an åttebladsrose or eight-petal flower symbol for the sun. The “X” is known as St. Andrew’s cross and was believed to deflect evil before it entered the body. The edge patterns are from West Telemark.
 
Our family celebrated a June baptism during 2020. A mask was required of the ten people who could attend the church service. Norwegian tradition requires the wearing of a bunad (national costume) to this celebration. My bandweaving unified all requirements of all ages by making a bunad mask. The XOX motif is repeated to confuse the virus from entering our lives.
 
I am an artist who searches for visual connections and meanings. I married a Norwegian, this fact became a lifelong research into Norway, family, food, history, crafts, and habits. Retired after 44 years in teaching, I have become a band weaver.
 
Roger Buhr, Decorah, IA
     
 
“Nativity Scene with Dog and Cat” and Starring Roses,” are done in hedebosøm or Hedebo needlework.
 

My wife has over 200 nativity scenes in a variety of mediums. I wanted to make one for her collection using hedebo needlework. It was a creative challenge while waiting out COVID-19.

I made 36 rose ornaments for our Christmas tree and decided to try using the pattern in a doily. I also wanted to incorporate black thread which is difficult to see and work with in needlework. It was something I could do evenings while homebound because of the pandemic.

I am a retired Lutheran pastor. I began working with hedebo needlework in 1985, and have done it steadily since I retired in 2000. I enjoy creating new patterns and pieces, so it is a way of expressing my God-given gift of creativity.

Symbolic Motifs in Norwegian Coverlets

By Laura Demuth

Any time I have the opportunity to view traditional textiles, I am amazed at the care, skill and creativity evident in everyday household items. Even the simplest items were often invested with added beauty and design.  Norwegian coverlets offer an especially rich example of both the weaver’s skill and creativity.  At a time when homes were heated from a central fire causing the walls to be covered with soot, displaying a textile on the wall was an unlikely option. Given the prolonged Norwegian winters, the bed coverlet was a necessary textile. It also afforded the weaver a large space to fill with colors, design, borders and possibly even a name and date.

Traditional Norwegian bed in the collection of Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum

Covering only the top of the bed, the traditional Norwegian coverlet was far smaller than the modern bedspread in that it did not drape down the sides or bottom of the bed. Also, traditional beds were much smaller than modern beds. The average size of a coverlet was four by five feet. If the weaving needed to be wider than the available loom, the coverlet was woven in sections and stitched together after it was removed from the loom.  Coverlets were commonly woven on a linen warp with a wool weft, but occasionally the warp was made with a tightly spun twp-ply wool yarn.  The wool could be dyed with natural plant materials such as birch leaves, club moss, northern bedstraw, woad or a variety of lichens. 

 

Rutevev, or square-weave, is a technique often found in traditional Norwegian coverlets. In Sweden, this technique is known as rolakan. The earliest examples of square-weave covelets in Norway date from the seventeenth century, but the tradition is likely far older. Examples of the technique can be found in Sweden dating from the eighth and ninth centuries. The coverlet design often included borders at the top and bottom of the piece; the borders did not necessarily match. Rows of larger motifs often filled the center of the coverlet, divided from one another by small border designs. Some border designs involved tapestry techniques (discontinuous wefts) while in others a single weft moved continuously from selvage to selvage. The designs were created using four to five colors, often red, black, white and gold. Blue and or green yarn could be added in place of the black. In addition to coverlets, the rutevev technique was used for carriage robes, bench covers, pillows and rugs. (1) 

Rutevev coverlet. Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #lc1626

Like tapestry, rutevev is weft-faced and involves discontinuous wefts, meaning that several wefts are needed to cover the width of the warp. Unlike tapestry in which the weaver may choose to build up one color area at a time, the pattern in rutevev is built up one row after another and woven across the entire width of the textile. Typically, adjacent blocks are joined or interlocked as the weft travels across the warp in one direction only, resulting in a reversible textile. For items such as rugs that require a very durable structure, the weft yarns can be interlocked as they move across the warp in both directions. This double interlocking technique results in a ridge forming between the blocks and produces a textile that is not reversible. 

While a variety of design patterns can be found in traditional Norwegian coverlets, several motifs appear with great regularity: the eight-petaled rose, the cross, diamond, knot, lily and heart. In her excellent book “The Woven Coverlets of Norway,” Katherine Larson notes that all of these motifs stem from the Middle Ages, and can be found in the folk arts from Europe to the Middle East. (2)

 A favorite throughout Scandinavia, the eight-petaled rose is a symbol of renewal.  On coverlets, it  was often placed within the center of an octagon and arranged in rows or columns.

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401087. This single-motif example and the others that follow were woven by Den Norske Vevere, a Norwegian weaving study group in Minneapolis, for a Midwest Weavers conference exhibit. 

Usually another motif such as a diamond or a cross was placed in the center of the rose. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum, Item #2016401057

Pairs of petals were sometimes joined into four, or the eight petals could be woven in alternating colors. Also,the points of the petals could be smoothed into a rosette. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401088

Rutevev coverlet with eight-petaled roses and “lynild” or lightning borders. Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #1968022017

The eight-petaled rose motif can also be found in other areas of the folk art tradition including wood carving, as pictured here. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #lc1191-6

The cross motif is widely found in many cultures and predates the advent of Christianity in Norway. Understood to be a protective symbol, the cross was often woven into pick-up bands used to swaddle infants. On rutevev coverlets, the cross could be the central motif of a coverlet, or it could be placed around or within other motifs. The motif could be expanded by adding a cross bar to each of the arms of a central cross, Additionally, the four arms of the cross could end with a diamond motif. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401061

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #1986033001

The knot motif has been part of the Norwegian textile tradition since the time of the Vikings. Katherine Larson notes that “it is likely that the motif, referred to as valknute in Norwegian, was associated with the powerful Norse god, Odin, or Valfader (father of the battle-slain), who presided over the mythical Valhalla and the Valkyrie. Folk belief held that magical properties inherent in the intricate knotwork designs would provide protection from evil powers”(3)

The knot motif consists of a varying number of hollow squares that intersect on the corners. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401060

The lily motif is commonly associated with the Virgin Mary. It has been found in Norwegian folk art since the Middle Ages, although it may have been used earlier. On coverlets, it is often found centered in a diamond border. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #2016401062

Diamonds could be used as the central motif in a coverlet, or they could be used to frame other motifs. Woodcarvers also used the diamond motif in their work.

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #lc1207-4

In addition to rutevev, the double-weave technique also lent itself to clear, central motifs on coverlets. Katherine Larson suggests that the double-weave technique “probably spread from China, where a type of double-weave was known as early as 200 B.C., to India and Persia and thence into the Mediterranean countries and Russia. Following the trade routes up the rivers of Russia and Eastern Europe, the double-weave technique probably arrived in Scandinavia by at least the eleventh or twelfth century if not earlier” (4). The heart motif often appears on double-woven coverlets as two opposing hearts that meet at their tips. Portions of the eight-petaled rose can often be found framed by the opposing hearts, as seen in this example. 

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #lc1585

Hearts were often included in other folk art traditions as seen in the example of woodcarving.

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Item #1995004015-3 

Once you have become familiar with the various motifs typically found in Norwegian coverlets,  it is possible to have a greater appreciation for the color, design and creativity found in these textiles. The language of the motifs communicates the intention of the weaver to offer protection, well-wishing and renewal to all who one day may rest warmly under the coverlet. 

1. Stewart, Janice S. The Folk Arts of Norway. Dover Publications, 1972
2. Larson, Katherine. The Woven Coverlets of Norway. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2001. 
3.  Ibid
4.  Ibid.

Laura Demuth lives on an acreage with a small flock of sheep, a llama and a dye garden. Because her home is only eight miles from Vesterheim, the museum has proven to be a continuous source of inspiration. Rutevev has lately become one of Laura’s favorite weaving techniques.

 

Lisa Hammer’s Remarkable Life and Unusual Rug

By Robbie LaFleur

Norwegian-born Lisa Hammer passed away in South Dakota in 1998 at the age of 96. Later her family donated a piece she wove to Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum–a straightforward, lovely, long utilitarian rug with simple stripes. But this rug was woven with an unusual material. It is emblematic of an industrious, accomplished, strong-willed woman who faced family displacement, scarcity, and war. 

An 11′ rug woven by Lisa Hammer in Norway before 1943, held aloft by Laurann Gilbertson and Jan Mostrom. Read further to learn about the unusual material used for the rug.

Early years in Norway

Lisa Hammer grew up in a small fishing village on the Klungseth farm northwest of Namsos, Norway, in Nord-Trøndelag. As a young child, her parents became ill and she was sent to the farm of a childless aunt and uncle. She missed her mother terribly, but was never able to return home. Farm work was hard, including hauling firewood from the mountains on her back, and scraping through snow to find greens for the farm animals. At 18 she traveled to Oslo for teacher training, another lonely and difficult time. 

It was difficult to get a teaching job in 1925, but Lisa found a position in three remote villages in Finnmark in the north of Norway. There was a great deal of poverty in the area, which deepened during World War II. She was teaching in Skjøtningberg during the Nazi occupation. Lisa wrote, “There was very little food around. We fed the kids oatmeal soup and cod liver oil in the school and when the weather was bad, the fishermen stole the fish they had sold the day before. The kids were not fed the way they should be and many times it was a lot better to give them a bath and teach them history.”

Many towns in Finnmark were destroyed by the Germans at the end of the war. As the Nazis retreated, they threw grenades in each of the homes in Skjøtningberg, demolishing them in a day.

Skjøtningberg after destruction by the Nazis. Photo Owner: Finnmark Regional Library

The townspeople were told to take a boat south. Lisa wrote, “It was very bad weather that night so we couldn’t enter the boat…We roasted some sheep, fried them on the fire and we drank some beer. We milked some cows, packed silver in the shoes and boots so we could take as much as possible and next morning we went to the boat. It was a fishing boat—we were laying in the bottom of the boat. One man got crazy but we had a basket that was ready to go to the hospital if somebody should be sick…So we tied him up in that basket, it was the only thing to do. And every place we went by that day there was burning and burning and burning.” 

After this harrowing escape to the home of her parents in Nord-Trøndelag (northwest of Namsos), Lisa began teaching nearby. But the school director in Finnmark sent her a telegram, “Welcome to Finnmark. Here is your passport!” After a year of teaching in the small village of Vestre Jakobselv, she was asked to come to Kjøllefjord.  Prudently she asked whether there was a schoolhouse with desks, teaching equipment and books. “No,” the superintendent said, “but there are children.” 

Lisa wrote, “So I went to Kjøllefjord. 125 children met me on the way, and they asked, ‘When will school begin?’ They repeated that often.” She convinced the mayor to furnish eight carpenters, and a classroom was quickly built. Obtaining school materials was a problem right after the war, but they received a large box of school supplies from Canada and regular packages from a woman in New Jersey. Lisa lived in nearby building, and she described the units as pretty and clean. “There was no other entertainment besides what we made ourselves…In later times it has been said that we never had so much fun as in that time when we were living in the housing units and everyone was the same.” School supplies weren’t the only scarce items, as Lisa wrote, “It was my birthday in April, and I can remember that I got a darning needle as a gift from Jennie Olsen. That was a very useful gift at that time.”

Kjøllefjord in 1947. Photo: Andreas Vodahl. Owner: Troms and Finnmark County Library

In a few short years, Lisa was settled and accomplished. She had a house built, became the church organist, was promoted to school principal, and was elected as the first woman representative on the community governing board. But then there was a letter from America…

The South Dakota connection

Around 1951, Lisa began to correspond with a childhood friend, Adolph Hammer, who emigrated to Huron, South Dakota. He was a widower with 12 children. He asked whether she had ever considered coming to America. She had, and in the summer of 1952 she traveled almost 4000 miles to visit her friend. When she returned to finish her teaching contract in Kjøllefjord, she was married. 

A number of rugs that Lisa Hammer wove accompanied her when she returned for her new life chapter in the middle of America. The rug donated to Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum was the one with the most unusual weft material–not fabric strips, as in most rag rugs, but herring nets from her fisherman brother, Ebbe Klungseth, who fished along a fjord in Trøndelag.  Small fish floated through the nets that were later twisted and woven into the rug! Moss alongside a Norwegian fjord was collected and cooked to dye the colored wool stripes. Lisa’s herring-net rug was thrifty and creative.

Once in her new South Dakota home, Lisa must have missed weaving. She ordered a loom from Norway, but it remained unassembled in a box until she sold it in the 1980s. She was likely too busy with her new husband and twelve children. Only a couple of the children were still at home, but Lisa also grew large flower and vegetable gardens, worked full time as the head housekeeper at a local inn, and made and sold a LOT of lefse.

Once she learned English, she had many speaking engagements around the region. At venues like the Sons of Norway and a local international group, Lisa was an ambassador of Norwegian culture and food. The local newspaper published her Norwegian recipes and articles about her textile work. 

While she was not a weaver in America, her hands were never idle. She made many wall hangings in Norwegian klostersøm technique and mastered Hardangersøm embroidery.

She embroidered a large tablecloth in the Farmers Rose pattern to match her dinnerware, crocheted dozens of afghans, and crocheted lace doilies. Textiles were an important part of her lectures about Norwegian culture. Here she demonstrates spinning on a wheel. 

Lisa Hammer stood up to many challenges during her long, rich life. She loved her adopted country and told her granddaughter, “the last letters in American are ‘I can.'” After she died, the family found her woven rugs from Norway in a closet, meaningful mementos that she saved for half her life. Lisa’s herring-net rug is an object that holds history. It also typifies a trait common to so many Norwegian-Americans whose belongings enrich Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum–while loving their adopted country, the immigrants remember and celebrate the country and culture of their youth. 

Authors note: Thank you to Karen Seeman (Lisa’s step-granddaughter) and Dee Gunderson (Lisa’s stepdaughter) for information on Lisa Hammer’s textile activities. 

Nordic Notes, May 2021

Video

Hjemmet magazine made a short film about the tablet weaving of Torkjell Sletta. It is in Norwegian, and subtitled in Norwegian, but fans of tablet weaving will love it no matter what. Torfjell Sletta has been making bands since 1979. He talks about how it’s evident he likes color, it’s something he loves. The woman he is instructing comments, “It looks like you are crazy about color.” He says he likes sharp colors and strong contrast.

Laura Demuth delivered a marvelous lecture on Norwegian coverlets as part of an introduction to weaving video produced by the Sustaining Scandinavian Folk Arts in the Upper Midwest project at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. It’s now available via YouTube, here. Laura starts  with an introduction of weaving. The section on Norwegian coverlets begins at the forty-minute mark, when you see a slide of marvelous sheep with curly horns. 

The 2021 International Fiber Festival spotlighted Norway on Day 3. It includes links to general Norwegian travel videos and two cultural videos. The following two videos were part of the online event. 

Nordlandsbunad from Bente Waag Petersen. Bente is a dyer with Arctic Krafts. She created a short video describing the various components of her national costume, from the embroidery, jewelry, and the cotton shawl (pictured here)  and the special way it is tied. 

 

 

 

Eline Oftedal Shares Her Vintage Embroidered Sweater Trimmings.
In this eight-minute video, the Norwegian sweater designer displays some of her collection of vintage Norwegian sweaters.  She has a theory about why the embroidered wool edges were added to sweaters. In earlier times, beautiful imported fabrics were very costly. Peasants had wool, and it was used  for special clothing. Leftover bits were embroidered and used also on sweaters. The black and white yarn used in the sweaters was inexpensive. She added, “If you added the beautiful cuffs here and there, it would sort of lift the appearance of this sweater, quite a bit, actually… and also made it last a bit longer.”

Exhibition Catalog

In the summer of 2020, Norway House in Minneapolis was one of the very first galleries or museums to arrange for safe and socially-distanced gallery visits. Even so, perhaps you were far away and missed the great show, “The Baldishol: A Medieval Norwegian Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles.” In step with the new virtual reality of the pandemic world, there were lots of online opportunities to learn about the exhibit, too: a YouTube opening celebration, a virtual tour of all the works, and a web page leading to additional articles about the artists and the inspirational Baldishol Tapestry. To finish this year-long celebration of the Baldishol Tapestry, please enjoy our last exhibition feature–a beautifully illustrated catalog. You can read (or print) the pdf version, or  purchase one in print

Interview

An interview with fiber artist Nancy Ellison from Zumbrota, Minnesota, is included in an online exhibition of traditional crafts practiced by Nordic Americans in the Upper Midwest region of the U.S. “Traveling Traditions: Nordic Folk Arts in the Upper Midwest” is sponsored by a program at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, “Sustaining Scandinavian Folk Arts in the Upper Midwest.” Nancy uses yarn made from her own flock of sheep in her weavings inspired by traditional Norwegian techniques and designs. 

A Connection to Frida Hansen in St. Louis?

By Jane Olson Glidden

It’s wonderful when life takes us in directions that connect the past with the present; I always try to watch for those links because I know they are not accidental.  This story begins with my connections to Norway, where my grandfather was born. My first trip to Norway was in the 1970s, when my sister and I were searching for clues about his birthplace.  While that initial quest was unsuccessful, I did discover a fascination for Norwegian weavers, namely Frida Hansen, Hannah Ryggen and Unn Sønju!  Now, after forty-plus years and three more trips, I finally found my grandfather’s birthplace on a farm in Ølen, and have visited dozens of museums and galleries to satisfy my interest in the history of weaving and in my favorite weavers from Norway. 

These days, much of my life is focused on involvement in my local guild, the Weavers’ Guild of St. Louis, which recently celebrated its 95th anniversary.  The guild was founded in March of 1926 as an extension of the weaving classes at the School of Fine Art at Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri.  The guild has an extensive archive, but we continue to research the artists from our guild and our history as the second oldest weaving guild in the nation.  

Transparent Tapestry was interesting, even in a small black-and-white photo.

Several years ago, I saw an article in our archives with a black and white photo of a piece titled Transparent Tapestry by Mrs. E. Siroky, which had been featured in a guild exhibition in 1939.  The piece called to me, even in black and white.  I knew I needed to locate that piece.  I found the artist’s name listed as Mrs. Elsie Siroky in the guild archives. She was one of our early members, joining the guild in 1927 while studying weaving with Miss Lillian Glaser at Washington University. Then, I found myself scouring the white pages and calling random phone numbers listed under the last name of Siroky.  Miraculously, I eventually found a family member who gave me the name of Elsie Siroky’s daughter, Joye, who was kind enough to invite me to her home to view and photograph more examples of her mother’s work.  Within a few feet of her front door, I found myself face to face with the captivating, full color version of Transparent Tapestry.  I immediately felt like I was transported back to Norway, discovering Frida Hansen’s work for the very first time.  I suspected there had to be a connection somewhere because the piece was so reminiscent of the transparent portieres designed by Frida Hansen.  

Transparent Tapestry, Elsie Siroky

When the light source is behind the transparency you can see the shapes formed by the areas of open warp.

Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to meet with Joye’s daughter Heidi, a granddaughter of Elsie Siroky, so I could get better photos of her work.  Once again, I found myself absolutely enthralled as we spent an entire day enjoying a rare treasure trove of photo albums and a newly discovered school portfolio filled with weaving notes, designs, pattern drafts and even the actual cartoons from several of Elsie’s pieces.  Amazingly, we found the folded paper cartoon for Transparent Tapestry.   The full size cartoon on graph paper was very detailed, with meticulous notes on color changes and open warp areas.  It appeared to be drawn with colored pencils. 

We also found sketches for weaving her initials E.S. and the year 1930 into the design. This was a revelation because they were well hidden in the diamond shapes in the corners at the bottom of the piece, but easily recognized after seeing the design drawings. 

Elsie Siroky’s initials and the date were woven at the bottom, but are almost impossible to see because they are woven in the same yarn as the background.

After enlisting the help of other guild members, we searched for a direct link between Elsie Siroky and Frida Hansen but found no specific evidence.  We did find one intriguing possibility though, with documentation that Elsie’s weaving teacher, Lillian Glaser, had traveled throughout Europe in 1930.  In a March, 1931, article by Louis La Coss in the St. Louis Globe-Democrat Magazine, Glaser was quoted as saying, “Norway and Sweden, you know, do the best weaving in the world today.  In other years France led, but the crown has been taken from that country by the Scandinavians.  Last summer I visited eight countries in Europe – Norway and Sweden, Germany, Switzerland, Czecho-Slovakia, Austria, Italy, France, and England.  Everywhere I found an intense interest in the art, far beyond the traditional attention that has been paid to it for centuries.  In Norway and Sweden, especially, I found the art developed to its finest form.”

Perhaps this was the link that connected Frida Hansen with Lillian Glaser’s students.  We know that Lillian Glaser traveled to Norway in 1930 and two of her students went on to weave their own transparent tapestries with a distinct resemblance to Hansen’s work.  We know that Elsie Siroky wove her Transparent Tapestry in 1930 and her classmate, Carolyn Horton Cowan, likely wove hers in the same semester.  You can certainly see the influence of Frida Hansen’s design aesthetics and imagery when you compare both student-woven transparent tapestries side by side with Hansen’s Summer Night’s Dream [Sommernattsdrøm, 1914].  All three tapestries have a strong Art Nouveau style with similar motifs of stylized garden settings with trees.  The circles indicate areas with specific design similarities like the white spots and elongated shapes in the tree foliage.   

From left to right: Transparent Tapestry by Elsie Siroky, Summer Night’s Dream by Frida Hansen, and a transparency woven by another student of Lillian Glaser, Carolyn Horton Cowan

It certainly appears that Lillian Glaser introduced Frida Hansen’s unique transparent tapestry technique to her students after her visit to Norway, but nine decades later, finding proof is quite a challenge.  I love how this story connects so many facets of my life; interest in my Norwegian heritage, my love for weaving in general, and my fascination with the weavers/artists that left such a wonderful legacy in this art. I am excited to work with my fellow guild members as we continue to research our guild history while we approach our 100th Anniversary in 2026.  Perhaps someday we will discover the precise details that connect Frida Hansen with Lillian Glaser and her talented students. For now we can all appreciate the impact of Frida Hansen’s groundbreaking work and admire the amazing efforts of two weaving students inspired by her technique and designs. 

Jane Olson Glidden weaves in St. Louis. She is active in the Weavers’ Guild of St. Louis where she is a member of several study groups including their Swedish Weaving Study Group.  She co-founded the guild’s annual sale in 1983 and continues to serve as Sale Chairperson.  She was awarded Lifetime Honorary Membership in the guild in 2012. 

Weaving Bewitchment: Gerhard Munthe’s Folk-Tale Tapestries

Laurann Gilbertson and Kathleen Stokker.  
A reprint in pdfWeaving Bewitchment: Gerhard Munthe’s Folk-Tale Tapestries, Vesterheim Magazine, Vol. 1, No. 2, 2003.

This article was first published in the magazine, Vesterheim, Vol. 1, No.2, 2003. Check vesterheim.org for information on how to become a Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum member and receive future Vesterheim magazines. 

Laurann Gilbertson and Kathleen Stokker answer the questions people often have when looking at the tapestry images of Norwegian artist Gerhard Munthe–what’s going on? What is that troll doing? For example, in “The Three Brothers” (“De Tre Brødre”), why do we only see young women?

“The Three Brothers.” Version owned by Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum. (Be sure to notice the trolls with long noses in the background.)

The authors solve the mystery. 

The number three appears more naturally in the tapestry called “De Tre Brødre” (The Three Brothers). The tale that this tapestry is based on describes how three beautiful princesses are kidnapped and locked inside the trolls’ castle. The trolls throw the key out the window and bewitch the women’s sweethearts, three brothers, transforming them into a deer, a fish, and a bird. After years of searching, the bird finds the key and, with the help of the deer and fish, rushes to the castle to unlock the door. The princesses recognize their sweethearts, who then instantly return to their human forms.

It’s fun to read the stories behind the tapestries. Thank you to Vesterheim for allowing digital access to Norwegian Textile Letter readers.     Robbie LaFleur

Old Textiles Live On in Many Ways; Musings by Textile Historian Marit Wang and her Daughter Ingebjørg Monsen

By Robbie LaFleur 

While assembling the issue of the Norwegian Textile Letter on Vestfold technique (February 2021), I was struck by the introductory essay by Marit Wang in the book of patterns published in 1992, Coverlets and Ryas in Vestfold: Pattern Book [Tepper og Ryer i Vestfold: Mønsterhefte] (1). She mentioned current scholarship on the weaving technique and the older historical coverlets, but also brought up broader questions about the preservation and use of traditional weavings. Her words have relevance to all sorts of traditional folk art in our contemporary world. 

How will old textiles speak to you? Will you copy them? Use them as inspiration? Marit Wang gives her readers wide discretion, at one point declaring, “…there is nothing “correct” in folk art.” 

Ryas and Other Coverlets in Vestfold
An introductory essay by Marit Wang,
translated by Katherine Larson

An object can be used for many things.  Take a stone, for example: we can hit each other in the head with it, we can use it as a weight for fishing or for weaving, as part of a stone fence or for decoration.

Ryas and other coverlets in Vestfold can also be used in several ways. If we own such a textile, we can in our naiveté hang it on the wall, or – as they did in times past – place it on the bed.  Eventually we can let the cat lie on it, and we ourselves might use it to wipe our feet, etc.  One of the finest coverlets I know of was found covering a car tire, protecting it from the summer sun.  One might also solve the problem by sensibly donating the textile to a museum…  

Some sit themselves down to think and write about tekstiler fra Vestfold [textiles from Vestfold]. In just the past few years at least three written accounts have appeared: we have the catalog from the anniversary exhibition Coverlets in Vestfold [Tepper I Vestfold, 1989], we have Karin Blomqvist’s excellent and thought-provoking article, “Vestfold Memories: Reflections on Twelve Bedcovers in Vestfold Technique” [Vestfoldminne 1990: Reflektioner kring tolv täcken i vestfoldsmett”], and now the present Pattern Booklet [Mønsterhefte] by Laila Thorrud.

Like the stone described earlier, one might say that these written representations can tell us just as much about the creators as about the Vestfold textiles.  Concerning alternate approaches, for example Karin Blomqvist’s analytical-theoretical and Laila Thorrud’s practical-analytic, one is no better than the other, they are simply different.

As with objects, the written representations can be used in different ways. That the pattern booklet will preserve the individual textiles is immediately obvious, and with the great interest in Vestfold coverlets, this is necessary. Personally I would say it is peculiar that the ryas of Vestfold have not engendered a similar palpable excitement – in Vestfold.  But it is no doubt coming. They have been published (Helen Engelstad’s Past Art in Rural Norway, Norwegian Ryas [Fortid’s Kunst i Norges Bygder, Norske ryer], 1942). But when one considers the interest that weavers have shown, this can in no way be compared with the Finnish textile artists’ interest in their own ryas.  And yet these are the closest relatives of the Vestfold ryas.

One could also use this pattern booklet in the most creative of ways. If one wished to make a textile that is most consistent with – but consistent with what? Like the old textile when it was new? In the lighting in which it was then seen? Finding equivalent wool and yarn is impossible.

Or do you want to “copy” the textile as it appears today? Or create something completely different, with color combinations you have arrived at yourself?

One way can be just as good as the other, you will find that there is nothing “correct” in folk art. There are mostly misunderstandings – and creative ability to varying degrees.

Most often it is true that one must learn to crawl before one can walk. Birds? Few of us are winged creatures.

I should be the last to advise anyone. But it will be interesting to see how the pattern booklet is used.

Marit Wang

Ingebjørg Monsen from Bergen, who teaches weaving and bunad sewing, is Marit Wang’s daughter. She was interested to read this essay about which she’d forgotten. “She was always trying to let the artifacts speak for themselves,” Ingebjørg commented about her mother. Marit Wang frequently mentioned the Baldishol Tapestry and the Överhogdal tapestries as examples of images that were recycled over and over. Woven coverlets had long lives and many uses, often ending up as horse coverings. Horses were valuable assets on the farm! 

In her essay, Marit Wang mentions that preservation can be achieved by sensibly donating the textile to a museum. Ingebjørg had additional thoughts:

It is also important to remember that putting an artifact into a museum always is dependent on the qualifications (and even sometimes the sex!?) of the curator(s) and the directors of the museum ;-). As long as there are relevant and knowledgeable persons in the family, the artifacts are sometimes better kept at home. 

I also often experience people bringing old heirlooms/artifacts to my classes, kept in the same way as 50 and 100 years ago, which seems to be the best possible way to keep them. ;-).

Brit Anni and her granddaughter

Finally, Ingebjørg is heartened by the current trend of using parts of old or inherited bunads (national costumes) when sewing new ones. One of her students, Brit Anni, used her own skills to assemble a new bunad. The skirt, apron and shirt were made by Brit Anni’s great-aunt in 1899. The breastplate is from the old bunad, but the bodice was made in the 1950s and used by Brit Anni’s mother. The belt was Brit Anni’s. The owner of this new/old and very meaningful bunad is Brit Anni’s granddaughter. 

 

A bunad generations in the making…

The best folk art lives on, through preserved artifacts, reproductions, new pieces inspired by tradition, and even re-used bits from old folk art. 

1 Thorrud, Laila. Tepper og Ryer i Vestfold: Mønsterhefte (Coverlets and Ryas in Vestfold: Pattern Book). Tønsberg, Norway: Vestfold Historielag, 1992. In Norwegian. Limited copies will be available from the Vesterheim Norwegian- American Museum Store. Email for information. 

 

“Well, I Wondered When I Saw You, What All These New Clothes Meant”: Interpreting the Dress of Norwegian-American Immigrants

By Carol Colburn

Editor’s Note: Carol Colburn’s analysis of Norwegian-American immigrant dress was published in 1994 in Material Culture and People’s Art Among the Norwegians in America, edited by Marion Nelson. It led the author to other research projects over the years. Here, she shares new insights in a special introduction for Norwegian Textile Letter readers. Read the full chapter here

As a costume designer and a clothing historian, I am fascinated by what clothing can say about an individual. The world of a play is defined by the playwright, and within that world, the language of costume helps to define the character, adding nuance to the interaction of dialogue and plot. A different challenge faces the clothing historian, when the world you are studying is filtered by history and remembered only in fragments. Photographs can provide clues to fill in the gaps. 

In my research for this chapter, I found it helpful to study clothing through family photo albums showing multiple generations. These reveal the progression of individual clothing choices in a context and over time.

As my mentors, Marion and Lila Nelson were inspiring and instrumental in getting this study of Norwegian-American clothing started. Their knowledge of the Vesterheim Museum collections and the Norwegian-American community in the Decorah, Iowa, area provided a basis for my research. I had interned at Vesterheim in the 1970s while I was an Art History/Museology graduate student at the University of Minnesota. By the late 1980s, Marion’s plans for Material Culture and People’s Art Among the Norwegians in America had come together. The edited volume was to include chapters on the material culture of Norwegian-American architecture and household artifacts. Marion suggested I undertake a similar study of Norwegian-American immigrant dress.

I visited families in Decorah and in the surrounding rural areas, looking at troves of family photographs. I was attentive to immigrants’ transition to fashionable dress, as well as retention of Norwegian habits of dress after immigration to the American Midwest. Thinking of clothing as a language helped my discussions with those families. Many interviewees were close to their relatives who were first generation immigrants and shared stories of the people depicted. A material culture research approach calls for using written evidence to help draw conclusions from objects (in this case photographs). Written passages directly quoted from the immigrant experience in letters and literature were also used as primary source material to help interpret what I was seeing in the family photographs. The title of my chapter is drawn from one of those letters. 

After this book was published, new insights came to me as I continued research in the U.S. and Norway. Updating my research and conclusions about the clothing patterns I identified in this chapter became an ongoing project. It also led me to look at photographs in my own family’s albums with new eyes. Family photographs are not always as well composed or preserved as those in museum collections. Identification can be challenging and sometimes the names are lost. We often focus on facial features and hair and body types, looking for clues for observable connections between generations but clothing and accessories can also provide hints of daily life, even if studio portraits are not made in a realistic context. The clothing and props in these family photographs might tell us about important occasions, occupations, interests, and accomplishments. For instance, we can recognize a c.1900 wedding portrait because of the relationship depicted and accessories included, even if a white dress was not worn. In the same years, a formal white dress together with a rolled-up diploma points instead to a graduation. We try to ‘interpret’ clothing that does not always translate to modern eyes. Dating photographs by comparing family photographs to fashion is complicated by the length of time some individuals continued to wear their clothing. New clothing might also have been made in a favorite older style. Finding any collaborating family stories or written evidence is very helpful.

Joan Severa’s book Dressed for the Photographer: Ordinary Americans and Fashion, 1840 – 1900 was published in 1995 and provides a useful cross-reference for looking at family photographs of that era. She presents a chronological scope of representative portraits from across America, including individuals from a broad range of backgrounds. Among those represented are immigrants, formerly enslaved and indigenous people. Each portrait includes a detailed clothing description. Her book can be seen as a window into the nineteenth century American family album with a focus on individuals rather than on fashion. She also includes some Norwegian-American family photographs from the Wisconsin Historical Society collections. 

Research methods using photographs have evolved since the 1990s. One thing made clear by reading my chapter and Joan Severa’s book is that as researchers we were viewing actual photographic prints as we interpreted the clothing details contained in them, instead of viewing second or third generation reproductions (reprints, photocopies, or digital copies). Actual photographs provide a wide range of black, white and grey values resulting in remarkable clarity of detail. In most cases, this made it possible to analyze and describe details such as garment cut, fabric, and accessories in individual portraits or groups. Today in the digital world, researchers are lucky if they have access to high-resolution digital copies where it is possible to zoom in to discern details. Problems with clarity of clothing details can happen with digital reproductions when lower resolution is used for internet distribution.

Anonymous girl c.1900 from the author’s family collection (Illustration 23 in the pdf reprint). Looking at the portrait in this high resolution digital reproduction instead of the reprint published in the original book, we can see fine detailing of her silver lekkjeknapp. She has used this traditional decorated double button as a brooch on her very fashionable bodice, sending a message about her family heritage from Valdres, Norway.

The author poses next to a rack of busseruller, traditional Norwegian work shirts.

This study has become a springboard for a number of subsequent research projects concerning immigrant clothing history, and also has been important in shaping my current work as I make clothing reproductions for museum collections and teach heritage garment-making workshops. A custom sewing class becomes a cultural history class, as my students and I sew together. Teaching patterning and sewing techniques for custom garments has become another way for me to share this fascinating material culture study.

 See “The Busserull (Norwegian Work Shirt) Tradition” and “The Busserull Tradition Continues” in Norwegian Textile Letter Volume 22, Number 1, March 2016.

Carol Colburn’s background in Theater, Art History/Museology, and Human Ecology/Textiles has led her to study textile and clothing history from many perspectives. Her interest in Norwegian-American clothing has led to projects and publications inspired by the collections at Vesterheim Museum, including the article reproduced here by the Norwegian Textile Letter. Now living in Duluth, Minnesota she continues to delve into clothing history, with a focus on Scandinavian handwoven garment traditions. She teaches heritage sewing workshops at North House Folk School in Grand Marais, Minnesota and John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina. 
Read more by Carol Colburn in the Norwegian Textile Letter: Migration of a Tradition: Norwegian Folk Dress in America (May 2020), and Taking a Play to Norway: The Costume Designer’s Story (February 2018).

Norwegian Tapestry: Historical Weaving Treasures and National Romantic Impulses

Editor’s note: Annemor Sundbø wrote a book about spelsau sheep–and so much more–in 2015, Reflections on the Ancient Nordic Sheep: Mythology & Magic, Folk Beliefs & Traditions [Spelsau og Samspill, Glansfull ull og lodne skjebnetråder: Myter og Refleksjoner]. This book is dense with Annemor’s deep knowledge of how the ancient sheep breed has affected Norway’s heritage. She weaves in mythology, religion, folk belief and cultural references. This is a translation of Chapter 30–only 11 of the 400 pages of this masterwork (available only in Norwegian). It underscores the importance of the indigenous spelsau sheep to art weaving and tapestry in Norway. 

Our oldest pictorial textiles

To study the yarn in our oldest textile artifacts is like greeting our spinning foremothers. The threads not only reveal how they wove and how they created stylized figures within weaving techniques. The yarn also shows they had materials to create yarn of a quality to last for over a thousand years. The threads and the patterns communicate and give us insight into customary practices of the time, use of materials, and the levels of spinning and weaving skills. Through these threads we can feel the care they exercised and their joy in creation. But the stories they tell are also often mysterious. The images tell a story, but unexplained figures and geometric forms might demonstrate that women also had a belief in the power of symbols. Were they requests to the gods with thoughts of eternal life, things we don’t understand here on earth a thousand years later?

Snartemo, Evebø, Oseberg and Överhogdal

Textile finds from the time before the graves at Langeid revealed textiles made with superfine yarn in complex techniques. Advanced figured bands were found at Snartemo and Evebø, most likely tablet-woven. They could be from the migratory period in the 500s. The Oseberg textiles are from the early Viking era, around 830. 

In 1910 textiles with images were found in a hovel at Överhogdal in Härjedalen (Sweden). They were a combination of pieces in various weaving techniques. Some were in double weave, and others in soumack, a twining technique in which the figures were woven in lustrous guard-hair yarn on a linen base. The remnants were called the Överhogdal Tapestries, even though it is unclear whether they were woven in that area, or whether they even originated in Norway or Sweden—but they were created more than 1200 years ago.

Read more about the Överhogdal tapestries here: https://www.jamtli.com/en/exhibitions/overhogdalsbonaderna/

 Baldishol

In 1886 an old church from the 1700s on the Baldishol farm at Nes in Hedmark was torn down. Louis Kildal from the neighboring Hoel farm discovered and old rag, covered in dirt and clay. It came to be one of Norway’s most important national treasures—one that was not only attention-grabbing in Norwegian textile art, but one that gained international attention. It appeared to be a tapestry woven in the 1100s. Its quality was high despite its unkind fate and great age. The tapestry could have been part of a series depicting all the months of the year, but only April and May have been preserved. 

Discovery of the Baldishol Tapestry not only sparked renewed interest in tapestry; the yarn also came into focus. After it was discovered the wool was from the old Norwegian spelsau race of sheep, there was interest in the fleece that made it possible for decorative textiles to retain  their strength of color and luster for over a thousand years. 

More information from Norway’s National Museum: https://www.nasjonalmuseet.no/samlingen/objekt/OK-02862

A flourishing in the art of weaving

Our textile inheritance reflects our pride and identity. Folk costumes and woven coverlets were an important weapon in the struggle for independence from Denmark and Sweden. We needed to demonstrate a unique Norwegian cultural tradition. In the period from 1814 and up to the separation from Sweden in 1905, historical folk art was prominent in music, visual art, and handwork. “World stars” Ole Bull and Adolph Tidemand, together with other National Romantic artists, were eye-openers for the exotic and for the colorful in our country in the mid-1800s. The National Romantic blossomed, for example, with the painting Bridal Procession in Hardanger. Ole Bull and Edvard Grieg based many new musical works on folk songs. 

“Bridal Procession in Hardanger” in Norway’s National Museum: https://www.nasjonalmuseet.no/samlingen/objekt/NG.M.00467

Discoveries of the Baldishol Tapestry and the textile finds from the Oseberg Viking ship were two big events for textile arts that fit right into the spirit of the times. Newspaper accounts enthusiastically described how contemporary weaving could follow a thread back to tapestry treasures from Viking times. 

A burst of new life in Norwegian Weaving

Many eyes were opened because of these textile discoveries, and buyers and collectors opened their wallets as well. They saw value in our old textile treasures, which were falling out of fashion in rural areas. 

The discoveries were also a welcome for handcraft businesses in that the weavings were praised and valued once again, and they could be used as a basis for art weaving. The weaving technique in the Baldishol Tapestry was seen as the most authentic in our folk art, in style, technique, and materials. Tapestries from Vågå and Gudbrandsdal were originally used to illustrate religious stories, but could now be used in a political sense and help build up a national feeling. Handcraft businesses and a number of private schools started up to teach spinning and weaving, and several tapestry studios were established. 

“The Wise and Foolish Virgins” was a popular religious theme in historical Norwegian tapestries. This one is from 1650-1700, owned by the Nasjonalmuseet in Oslo.

Historical Tapestries in New Editions

Jens Thiis was the first director of the National Museum [Nasjonalgalleriet]. Before that he was the director of the National Museum of Arts and Design [Nordenfjeldske kunstindustrimuseum] in Trondheim, where he set up a weaving school in 1898. It ran for ten years. 

At first it was important to strictly adhere to the old style from the time of the sagas in the new tapestries, with no deviation in technique. The images should be composed of flat planes next to one another, a sort of two-dimensional cartoon form. The lines had to follow certain rules with hakking (joins) and trapping (steps), which also affected the composition. The historical colors should also be copied. But the yarn in soft wool and the new colors stood out as heathery and muddy, compared to the clear colors and lustrous finish of the historical yarn. 

Miss Augustas dyeing method

In 1894 Frida (Pettersen) Hansen began to work with plant-based dyeing using Augusta Chirstensen’s dye method. In this method unspun wool was dyed in three or four main colors and carded together afterwards. This created the possibility of blending colors like paint on a palette. Each thread had its proper place in the image, and the wool came from the modern sheep varieties. This dyeing and spinning method was also used for Fair Isle knitting yarn on the Shetland Islands and for weaving yarn for traditional Scottish tweed. 

Frida Hansen’s studio was called the Norwegian Coverlet and Tapestry Weaving Studio [Norsk Aaklæde og Billedvæveri], when she took part in the handcraft exhibition in Bergen in 1898. Frida Hansen was trained in painting, but became interested in traditional weaving. At the first Norwegian handcraft exhibition at Tivoli in Kristiania (now Oslo) in 1890 she showed her first tapestry, “Birkebeinerne,” after a lithograph by the artist Knud Bergslien. The catalog stated that, “all the yarn was hand spun by the artist herself.” 

Frida Hansen “Birkebeinerne.” Photo provided by the family of Frida Hansen.

Frida moved to Oslo and in 1892 she opened a teaching studio for students from the city and countryside. In 1897 the studio was called The Norwegian Tapestry Studio [Det Norsk Billedvæveri] and moved to Stortorvet, a square in the center of Oslo. 

The Handcraft Association’s Dye Studio

The Norwegian Handcraft Association Plant Dye Studio [Den Norsk Husflidforenings Plantefargeri] began in 1894 and existed up to World War II, when it closed down because they lacked fuel to heat the dye pots. The Handcraft Association sold patterns for decorative weavings, coverlets and tapestries so weavers could continue the traditional style. All the yarn specified in the patterns was machine-spun. Factories only spun yarn from the newer sheep varieties during this first wave of art weaving at the beginning of the 1900s. 

Fine artists create tapestry 

Given the high status of tapestry, several male artists began to design new tapestry images, with a grounding in the old, distinctive saga-style. Painters, with Gerhard Munthe in the forefront, began to create cartoons for tapestry. Munthe experimented with the traditional flat style and pulled motifs from Norwegian sagas, Scandinavian mythology, and Norwegian folk tales. The tapestries were intended to underscore  and emphasize our national character and cultural heritage. As an artist, Munthe said that when he moved into a world of patterns and ornament he became interested in colors and forms that represented the Norwegian identity.

Gerhard Munthe (1849-1927) drew cartoons for tapestries. The yarn in his tapestries was soft and in heathered and somewhat somber colors, as was the current style. Photo from the Oslo Museum: https://digitaltmuseum.no/021019022300/gerhard-munthe

To Drown in wool

Munthe gained greater fame for his tapestry cartoons than for his paintings. He never wove himself, but drew for the Studio for Art Weaving [Atelier for Kunstveving] at the National Museum for Arts and Crafts in Trondheim from 1897 to 1909.  At the Worlds Fair in Paris in 1900 Munthe received the gold medal for one of the tapestries he designed. He was disappointed. He was apparently quite frustrated because he wanted to be recognized for his painting and not for his dabbling in tapestry, as he put it. Reportedly Munthe was happy for the praise and fame, but he said somewhat condescendingly that “they are drowning my art in wool.” He said that his true art was overlooked and falsified into “soft wool weavings.” Munthe sighed, “Oh, these weaving women.” But as that era’s leading male artist he nonetheless led a new epoch in Norwegian textile art.

Munthe’s tapestries were not woven with spælsau’s lustrous wool.  He utilized chemically dyed machine-spun yarn from the newly introduced sheep with soft wool.  The wool was dyed before spinning and then carded and blended in greyed tones, imparting no luster as in the older tapestries. 

“Afraid of the Dark” (“Mørkredd”). One of the tapestry designs by Munthe shown at the Paris Worlds Fair in 1900. This version is owned by the Nasjonalmuseet in Oslo.

Guard-hair yarn appears, a gain for textile art

When the yarn from spelsau sheep was rediscovered, it received a great deal of attention with the headline, “Yarn that Amazes.” Erling Engelstad wrote in the magazine Our Selves and Our Homes [Vi selv og våre hjem], “The yarn for tapestry is hand spun and dyed with plant dyes, first-rate work led by Sunniva Lønning. The yarn she created has luster and clear, rich colors of high artistic effect, and it is amazing.” 

Crucial educators, real-life Valkyries

Sunniva Lønning taught spinning and dyeing, and the teaching of spinning and dyeing, at the National Women’s Arts and Design School [Statens kvinnelige industriskole] from 1940-1977, but she did not leave many publications behind. In a book for the 75th anniversary of the school she wrote, “yarn is not merely yarn,” and further, “When the textile industry grew, hand-spinning decreased. It was no longer necessary for everyone to know how to spin. Due to the materials and work methods, the textile industry could produce softer and smoother yarns than those spun at home. Factory made products became so popular that yarn that appeared handmade was seen as less beautiful.”

“That looks store-bought,” many say when something handmade looks extra perfect. Even today many comment that a well-executed handmade item looks like it could be “machine-made.” 

A sample card from Hoelfeldt Lund spinnery, which spun yarn from spelsau sheep, from 1958. In the first years of the factory students from the National .. helped to develop the yarn and the colors.

Women’s mastery of spinning techniques

The most important aspect of hand-spinning is knowledge of the material, according to Sunniva Lønning, but she added that home craft, including handcraft for sale, must be allowed to use machine-spun yarn, because wool was such an important product for Norwegian agriculture. At school it was important to choose the best materials for the right purpose. Along with  Sunniva Lønning, weaving instructors Signe Haugstoga and Ragnhild Trætteberg worked systematically with the Wool Improvement Committee [Ullforedlingsnemnda] and the Norwegian Handcraft Association’s Wool Committee. [Husflidsforening ullutvalg]. Their results were presented in an exhibition in 1948, Spelsau Wool in Art and Clothing [Spælsau-ull i kunst og klær]. 

In 1956 a new exhibition highlighted research the school had undertaken in collaboration with Lily and Per Hoeslfeldt Lund, “Yarn is not just Yarn.” Also in 1956 a new course in wool sorting was begun by Norway’s Livestock Association [Norges Kjøtt-og-Fleskesentral], which owned the Røros Tweed mill. Results from the course were presented during Agricultural Week in 1959, and called Sorting Yields Quality [Sortering gir kvalitet].

Signe Haugstoga was a weaving instructor at the National Women’s Arts and Design School from 1936 to 1942. She wrote in the school’s anniversary book (1875-1950): “…when we have come as far as to have machine-spun yarn of this type on the market, we can perhaps hope for a higher level of quality in handcraft for sale, something that is needed, especially when it concerns decorative weaving. In line with the times it is evident that machine-spinning is needed when it concerns large-scale production. It is also true that if you wish to create an exquisite textile the hand spinner must have full mastery over the material, which is its basis.”

A Golden Time for Lustrous Weaving 

The exhibits emphasized spelsau yarn quality and intended uses. Norsk ull” [Norwegian wool], which meant wool from the old Norwegian sheep breed, stood out as a modern material for artistic expression. Both educators and practicing artists were among the advocates for spelsau wool. Signe Haugstoga explained more about traditional Norwegian weaving: 

“Much of what we have preserved from historical times, seen artistically, decoratively, and from a quality standpoint, ranks quite highly. The assurance these textiles display in composition, color and quality will always stand as a good example for anyone who works in this area. 

The work that lies behind the textiles in this display was in the past primarily made in the home. The weaver had control of the work from the carefully sorting of linen and wool for various uses, to the completed items… A huge transformation in this area followed the advent of machine-spun yarn… It resulted in a colossal time-savings in the home, something that was much appreciated when it came to spinning yarn for clothing and other utilitarian items… Machine-spinning also had unfortunate effects. It goes without saying that machine-spun yarn must be uniform. Factories were only interested in producing things with their own products, and not in fine sorting of wool or wool varieties. The textile industry was mainly interested in uniform soft wool, whether that meant  imported wool or Norwegian wool production. And of course the spinning mills supplied a great deal of yarn for handcraft.”

Soft wool and Synthetic Dyeing

Decorative weaving suffered. Soft/wooly yarn varieties were used where it was ill-suited. Soft yarn varieties and synthetic dyes, called pakkefarging [packet-dyeing, because the dye came in packets], changed the character of art weaving and lowered its quality. 

In 1936 the Norwegian Museum of Arts and Crafts [Kunstindustrimuseum] began a series of large exhibitions, first with Norwegian Weaving 1550-1850 in 1936, followed by Norwegian Ryas in 1940. And then came a tapestry exhibit in 1946 that showed the quality of yarn used in the past. 

The weaving teacher Signe Haugstoga emphasized that knitting yarn was not appropriate for woven table runners, and that handweaving is so time-consuming that only the best materials are good enough! 

“Zephyryarn,” “English wool,” and “Berlin-wool” were super-soft yarns in merino wool that were used especially for embroidery and belts in Setesdal. “Leithen Zephyr Wool” was likely the earliest machine-spun wool in the Netherlands; the Leithen spinnery started in 1766.

From Foremothers to modern gods and heroines

Who were the foremothers and forefathers of tapestry and textile arts in Norway? Work with wool and weaving have been traditionally women’s work as long as weaving has had a spiritual message and magical powers. When times changed and the visual arts received the new task of building pride—and with an ideology that nationalistic feelings could be a political tool, then male artists stepped in. They were masters of contemporary artistic expression and could speak publicly on politics. That was before women gained the right to vote in Norway in 1913. 

Cooperation, fertilization and renewal

A renaissance in Norwegian art that would have implications for the Norwegian spelsau began with large wall decorations, so-called fresco paintings. This fresco period led to monumental pieces. An artistic milieu grew under the Danish professor from the National Art Academy [Statens Kunstakademi], Georg Jakobsen. He taught a whole generation of painters a sort of geometric composition that had similarities to tapestry, one that was well-suited to cartoons, drawings or sketches used for weaving. 

This renewal built on several factors. First, there were male artists who were willing to create cartoons that were specifically designed for tapestry. Second, there were weavers with rock-solid knowledge and weaving skills who were willing to weave from the cartoons. Øystein Parmann opened his book, Norwegian Tapestry, A Studio and an Epoch [Norsk Billedvev, Et atelier og en epoke] by declaring it is unimportant to know which came first of this chicken and egg. Foremost, both the rooster and the chicken must be present for fertilization. 

The Golden egg

The company Norwegian Tapestry [A/S Norsk Billedvev] is a typical example of what can happen when certain individuals meet and have similar interests. One driving force was Thor B. Kielland, director of the Norwegian Museum of Arts and Crafts. He was then working on his book, Norwegian Tapestry 1550-1800 [Norsk Billedvev 1550-1800]. The other important actors were the artists Kåre Mikkelsen Jonsborg and Håkon Stenstadvold. But most essential, in my opinion, were the hens that produced the fertilized egg—the golden egg. With Else Halling’s knowledge of weaving and Sunniva Lønning’s spinning wisdom, with insight and strength, tapestry blossomed into a golden age. 

The spirit of contemporary times and sheep from an ancient time

Epochs grow from impulses and inspiration that can be called the spirit of the time. The National Romantic period focused on promoting a unique and magnificent Norwegian culture that would bring world renown. Art could be used to bring attention to our country—not least to bring attention to our products. The whole country was engaged in finding the most Norwegian in all areas. The national consultant for small animal production, Jon Sæland, saw the importance of protecting our authentic Norwegian sheep breed as a part of our Norwegian-ness. 

Rulebreakers lead to new use of our old sheep 

Jon Sæland worked in cooperation with agronomist and wool expert Signe Brueneck, the Agriculture Department’s wool breeding committee, the Norwegian Sheep and Goat Association [Norsk Sau og Geit], the Norwegian Handcraft Association’s Wool Committee, and the National Women’s Arts and Design School. They eventually reconstructed the oldest yarn varieties for new tapestries. Else Haling was naturally a participant. She had run her own weaving school in Oslo since 1936 and was the chief instructor in tapestry at the National Women’s Arts and Design School from 1941 to 1963. 

Working out dyeing and spinning puzzles

Else Halling studied not only the techniques and yarn used in the Baldishol Tapestry, but also the strong colors that were so unlike Gerhard Munthe’s matte and grayed colors, typical in his time. Else Halling was first and foremost concerned with tapestry as handcraft. She felt that no other tapestry qualities were more accomplished than those found in the old Norwegian tapestries from the period 1550-1800—not in materials, composition, or technique. She had a desire to hold fast to this traditional legacy. If the skeins of yarn were the “golden egg,” then the wool itself was the key. This led to a treasure hunt together with Sunniva Lønning. Together they tried to work out the secrets behind the old dyeing methods and the luster in the historical wool yarn. 

Else Halling’s assistants working on a reconstruction of “Salomons gjestebud [The Feast of Solomon]. The loom was designed so that the whole piece was visible from start to finish.

Investigations during the difficult war years 

Else Halling and Sunniva Lønning discovered it was the guard hair that had both the luster and strength and which was the origin of the yarn’s high quality. While Else Halling was an instructor at the National Women’s Arts and Design School, she was given a workshop in the Norwegian Arts and Crafts Museum. The director, Thor B. Kielland, dreamed of producing large tapestries that were designed by noted Norwegian artists and would adorn public buildings in Norway. He needed weavers to make samples and he asked Else Halling. 

After a number of smaller tests  to emulate the qualities of the old tapestries, Else Halling decided to create a true copy of a tapestry in full size. This was at the beginning of the Second World War. Most of the old tapestries had been evacuated from the museum, other than The Feast of Herod [Herodes’ Gjestebud]. Assisted by Randi Ruud, they studied it thread by thread. 

Else Halling related that it was a pleasure to be in such close contact with an original tapestry, to hold it in her hands, feel it, and have permission to carefully examine the back side and begin to understand its fading—in addition to be really being able to study the threads’ paths within the tapestry, the structure and types of yarn. 

Else Halling said, “People hungered for anything of quality and beauty during the war years. Museums were closed, there were no beautiful things in shop windows, all lovely colors were extinguished, the world was brown and gray, nothing more than surrogates whatever way people turned…”

Together with Dagmar Lunde they experimented with dyeing methods that would remain colorfast. Guard hair yarn from the spelsau showed more strength of color than yarn from any other wool types. It was a matter of finding the correct type and degree of twist to make the yarn as lustrous as possible. 

“Mor Trampe” wrote in the weekly publication Urd, March 1948 

“It is exactly this long guard hair that is discovered to be the same material that our ancestors used in many beautiful tapestries we have from the 1600s to 1700s. … Our ancestors knew their materials and used them well.” 

(The August issue of the Norwegian Textile Letter will include a translation of the next chapter of Annemor’s book, covering the importance of yarn from spelsau sheep in tapestry in the post-WWII period up to current times.)

Annemor Sundbø is a Norwegian author, knitter, weaver, historian, and curator. Perhaps her best title is also the title of an extensive profile of her on The Craftsmanship Initiative, “Norwegian Sweater Detective.” Her most recent book, Koftearven, which examines the development of the Norwegian sweater tradition as a national treasure, won the 2020 Sørland Literature Prize. annemor.com
Read more by Annemor Sundbø in earlier issues of the Norwegian Textile Letter: Nettles – For Clothing and Much More (November 2017), and A Rag Pile, My Lot in Life (May 2016).
Translated by Robbie LaFleur