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Warped (or Wrapped?) in Time

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.

 

 

 

Krokbragd Tapestry

“Playa: Impossible Sky,” 2016

By Judy Ness
August 2018

Editor’s note:  This year’s Best of Show weaving in the 2018 National Norwegian-American Folk Art Exhibition was Judy Ann Ness’s “Playa: Impossible Sky,” an intriguing combination of krokbragd and tapestry techniques.  She won Best of Show for “Playa: Summer Lake, 2014” in 2015. (Read more here.) Now seemed a good time to ask her more about she combines techniques in her signature style.  

 

Why, oh why, would one want to do this technique? I do not know.  It began to develop in 1996 during graduate school in textile arts/weaving at the University of Oregon in Eugene, Oregon. The interest in Norwegian textiles began much earlier, probably 1968 or so, when I saw a pair of a Norske immigrant’s giant white mittens knitted and felted displayed at Vesterheim during Nordic Fest. I was a local kid from Lake Mills, Iowa, just northwest of Decorah. You never know when something will spark, take hold and stay, lurking for years until it surfaces with meaning and intent. 

Let’s look at the details using krokbragd and tapestry techniques. 

KROKBRAGD

Krokbragd lozenges

Traditional krokbragd is mostly woven as small interlocking patterns of almost infinite possibility. It has some constraints being a bound rosepath: 3 lifts repeated over and over again: 1-2, 2-3, 1-3. Using the same color on the same lift repeatedly produces a pattern of three vertical, solid color bars. The magic comes when the colors are changed. The treadling goes forth without variation, and the pattern is varied simply by the choice of color change. I’m particularly fond of making lozenges with a lacey black outline. Be assured, at some point in exploring the basic krokbragd, a weaver will start to see and understand what color changes will create a specific pattern.

TAPESTRY

Tapestry is two-shed plain weave warp: 1 and 2 on a vertical loom. If using a horizontal loom in a straight draft, the lift would be as for tabby: 1-3, 2-4. It’s plain weave with two lifts. The business of how the weft is woven is the substance of the tapestry technique. We won’t go into this here except to say the weft weaving controls the imagery. 

A COMPARISION & A SOLUTION

Krokbragd pattern is loom controlled and tapestry is outrageously free of control.  To combine them is interesting and time consuming. After years of trying to find an elegant solution to the interlock portion of tapestry on two lifts marrying with the loom controlled three-lift action of krokbragd, I failed. Absolutely.  The more complex method was replaced by reverting to a simple clasped weft technique. (Reference: Peter Collingwood’s excellent The Techniques of Rug Weaving.) The solution was to use the krokbragd treadling with the clasped weft technique. It offered a choice of tapestry or allowing the krokbragd patterning to emerge.

Melding these techniques created a chimera, a beast of two different parentages that combine making something new. As you will see, the early work expressed krokbragd more distinctly with later efforts merging both the krokbragd and tapestry personalities. Curves, depth, and imagery become more possible to achieve.

“Midnight Sun,” 1998

“To the Ghosts Who Sleep in the Land Childhood Lost,” 1998 (in the collection of the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum)

“Resolution,” 2000. (In the collection of the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum)

“Playa Summer Lake,” 2014

“Playa: Impossible Sky,” 2016

Judy Ness is a tapestry weaver from Oregon with special interests in Norwegian and Navajo weaving. She has shared her knowledge and love of textiles as an instructor in weaving, spinning, and dyeing since 1995.

 

Dipping Into Carol Johnson’s Tapestry Collection

Carol Johnson has over 60 tapestries in her collection–some Swedish, some Norwegian, and a handful of Scandinavian-inspired American ones. Most are modest in size. Many of them were woven by novices, probably by women learning tapestry techniques during a resurgence of textile interest in the 1950s-1970s.  One piece is undisputedly a learner piece…

…Because here’s the Swedish book with the pattern!  Flamskvävnad: Flemish Weaving, by Ernst Fischer and Gertrud Ingers (Västeros: ICA Förlaget, 1961).

Pieces in the collection represent many popular traditional images. She has two small tapestries of a man and woman surrounded by a floral border.  It’s a segment of a well-known Swedish tapestry cushion pattern, “The Engagement.”

The pattern for this weaving is found in Flemish Weaving: A Guide to Tapestry Technique, by Gertrude Ingers (NY: Van Nostrand Reinhold Co., 1971, originally published in Swedish, 1967). It is a portion of a image that was popular during the height of Swedish flamsk weaving in southern Sweden, from around 1750-1850.  

Flamsk means Flemish, meaning a type of tapestry based on continental styles.  In Sweden the weaving techniques and the images were simplified and, similar to Norwegian billedvev (tapestry), used dovetail techniques to avoid slits.

Woven in southern Sweden, owned by the Kulturen Museum in Lund.

Vivecke Hansen, a Swedish author and expert on flamskväv and other Scanian weaving techniques, posted a photo of a cushion with a more elaborate background, woven in the 1800s. (“Historical Reproductions–18th and 19th Century Dove-Tail Tapestry.” Textilis, No. XXXIX, May 22, 2015) 

Sometimes scanning images in the Swedish DigitaltMuseum turns up patterns similar to those in Carol’s collection. This relatively modern flamsk weaving was dated 1960-1980. It is a common floral pattern with a bouquet of flowers flanked by two parrots, surrounded by a wreath, on a background of flowers. 

In Carol’s tapestry, which may be older, guessing from the condition, the red urn switches to one festively adorned with zigzags. So many of the individual pattern elements are the same shapes in both tapestries, but vary in execution. For example, look at how the parrots were woven in the two pieces. 

Another popular Swedish flamsk pattern is the red lion surrounded by a laurel wreath and on a background of flowers. Over 70 tapestries with the lion image still exist from the historical 1750-1850 time period. Here is the example owned by Carol, woven in the 20th century. 

Carol’s collection of weaving in tapestry techniques includes several pieces in square weave, with designs built geometrically.  Swedish pieces, called rölakan, use a double-interlock technique. This photo shows the back of a rölakan with the characteristic rows of raised edges where the colors join and interlock.  This photo also show how older pieces can be quite faded on the front, with the richest colors–sadly–evident only on the back. 

Carol’s collection includes two rölakan versions of the Swedish Bäckahäst, the river or sea horse, another popular Swedish tapestry image. This mythological creature was thought to lure people to ride on their backs and then plunge into the river. Although I thought this was a dragon-like creature spouting fire, I have seen a few references to a lily in the mouth of the horse.

Another find from the Swedish Digitalt Museum was this hand-colored photograph of a historical textile with similarities to one in Carol’s collection. It is part of a collection of 120,000 photographs by Lilli Zickerman, posted by the Svenska Hemslöjdsförening  (The Swedish Handcraft Association). Lilli Zickerman undertook a massive inventory of Swedish folk textiles between 1910-1932.  

This piece in Carol’s collection reproduces many of the abstracted flowers of the larger historical piece. In the center of both pieces, note the modern-looking abstracted lilies of the valley.

This Swedish rölakan, woven at a fine sett with thin yarn, features birds and stars. 

 

Here is a Norwegian piece at a larger scale. In Norway the geometric tapestry technique is called rutevev.

Although double-interlock square-weave pieces are found in Norway, single interlock is more usual. With that technique, once the loose threads are woven in, the back is as beautiful as the front, and the weaving is reversible. We would guess this is a Norwegian rutevev because the back is as lovely as the front, but there is also a label.

Traditionally, larger Norwegian square-weave pieces were woven with thicker yarn at a wider sett than Swedish square-weave tapestries, probably because they were woven as utilitarian coverlets.  In Sweden the square-weave technique was more commonly used for decorative textiles, with more complex patterns in finer threads. 

The next two single interlock rutevev hangings are likely from patterns by noted Norwegian designer Else Poulsson, who worked in a variety of textile techniques. Poulsson was the head of Den Norske Husflidsforening (the National Handcraft Association) for 25 years, beginning in 1929. While her abstracted patterns were sometimes compared to spare patterns of German Bauhaus designs, her images focused on Norwegian culture; rural people in traditional costumes were frequent subjects. 

A similar horse and rider design is found in an entry about Else Poulsson in the Store Norske Leksikon (Large Norwegian Encyclopedia). 

Carol Johnson’s collection includes the head of a figure in the famous Norwegian Baldishol Tapestry, the most spectacular historical Norwegian tapestry, dated from the mid-1100s. It is woven in billedvev (literally, picture-weaving), the Norwegian tapestry technique that employs decorative joins and avoids long slits. Norwegian billedvev is also characterized by areas of solid color with little hatching. 

It’s one of the few pieces in the collection with initials and the date of completion on the back, “S.H. 14/7 1966.” 

A cartoon for this weaving is included on the Swedish Digital Museum site, from the collection of Vänersborgs museum. (Full record here. The record says it is from Johanna Brunssons Vävskola (a weaving school). 

Clearly this cartoon has been woven many times.  Ulrikka Mokdad from Copenhagen wrote, “Baldisholmanden – I remember 26 years ago when I was taking classes at The Weavers’ Guild, we would choose between several details from the Baldishol tapestries at the end of course one. I chose the face of the April man .” Another Danish Facebook reader wrote that she had inherited the same piece from her great-aunt, and assumed it had been a weaving school assignment. 

If you were hunting for the most iconic image of medieval Norwegian billedvev, you would have to find an image of the wise and foolish virgins.  As expected, Carol has one–this weaver only wove the five wise ones.  

In the early 1900s the Handcraft Associations in Norway (Husfliden) and Sweden (Hemslöjden), in an attempt to revive traditional handcrafts, sold weaving patterns based on historical pieces.  This billedvev piece in Carol’s collection was likely from a pattern from Husfliden in Norway.

This image is from a medieval cushion cover is in a set of books by Henrik Grosch.

Carol Johnson’s tapestries are tantalizing puzzles.  They came with little background–perhaps they were sold off from a relative’s stash or were flea market finds for the sellers. They are woven with care in a time-consuming process.  Who made them? Where did they get the patterns? When did they fade from fashion or lose meaning for the weaver or her family?  As the title states, this article only dips into Carol Johnson’t tapestry treasures. 

Fans of Scandinavian tapestry can look forward to an exhibit of Carol Johnson’s collection at the Weavers Guild of Minnesota in early 2019.  Here is a GALLERY of many of the pieces.  If you have knowledge of the designers or other background about them, let me know.  

Robbie LaFleur
lafleur1801@me.com

 

 

The Swedish Art Weave Tradition Continues in Minnesota

By Robbie LaFleur

Interest in Scandinavian weaving techniques is strong in the Midwest, and each semester of classes at the Weavers Guild of Minnesota includes at least one with a Nordic focus.  Most recently, Jan Mostrom taught a workshop in Swedish Art Weaves to eight enthusiastic students.  Jan was one of several Minnesota weavers who studied with Gunvor Johansson at the Swedish Handicrafts Center for Skåne in Landskrona, Sweden, in the summer of 2017. (Read articles about their experiences in the November 2017 issue of the Norwegian Textile Letter.) Their instructor is the author of the newly-translated comprehensive text on Swedish art weaves, Heirlooms of Skåne

Jan combined instruction and inspiration from that trip with her excellent skills as a weaving instructor to design this class, new to the Weavers Guild, which was described by one student as “exceptional, beyond measure, beyond expectation.” 

The sampler included four techniques: halv-krabba, dukagång, krabbsnår, and rölakan (double-interlock square weave), indicated on this sampler by student Deb Reagan. (See all the samplers here.) Jan supplied suggested patterns for each band, and included a special challenge as well–for each student to at least graph out their initials and the date. The first three full days of the class were roughly devoted to the first three techniques, followed by a no-instructor “catch-up day” of weaving for the students.    

The last day of class was devoted to weaving a narrow band of rölakan and to discussing finishing techniques.  Jan had sewn a prototype pillow to show traditional cushion construction, including the opening where the pillow is inserted. They discussed the Swedish method of making fringe for the edge. 

 

Often, hooks and eyes were used to close the pillow opening; Jan chose bands.

The students who attended the class in Sweden in 2017 were impressed by the methods used to embellish a smaller piece of weaving, like a sampler, with braid, fringes, and tassels to make a festive folk art pillow cover. This is how Melba Granlund, who also attended the course in Sweden, added braid to her 2017 sampler in fine Swedish style. 

The class wasn’t merely technical; it was valuable for the enthusiasm and background that Jan imparted.  Deb Reagan wrote, 

“Four techniques of Swedish Art weaves were presented but Jan went far beyond teaching us these four techniques. She provided us with a history lesson on these weavings, describing what they were used for, what area of Sweden they originated from, and why they were made. While we were weaving she would read to us from her personal library, furthering and deepening our connection with the Skane weavers of the past.”

The students in this class had another unique source of inspiration–the exhibit of Scandinavian weavings owned by Carol Johnson on the walls of their classroom. (See this article.) Several pieces were in Swedish art weave techniques.  Weave a sampler today, perhaps this next? 

Learning Swedish art weave techniques is challenging, and that was clear by the complete silence in the classroom as students wove intently.  In particular, weaving from the back of a piece was new to most students. Keeping the weft pattern bundles in order takes concentration. Students chose yarn colors from a range of Swedish singles Faro yarn supplied by the instructor, a single strand for the plain weave background and three strands for the pattern shots. Some chose to mix shades in the pattern bundles.

Thanks to Jan Mostrom’s commitment to sharing her knowledge of Scandinavian weaving techniques, these traditional Swedish techniques are finding new fans in the Minnesota through the Weavers Guild of Minnesota.

See the gallery of student samplers here

Robbie LaFleur weaves in Minneapolis. Her Swedish Art Weave sampler based on the Johansson book used the art weave techniques to interpret Cold War images.  See “So Why Not Weave an Atomic Bomb?” and “Cold War Piece–Weaving Notes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Passionate Pursuit: Scandinavian Weavings from the Collection of Carol Johnson

By Robbie LaFleur 

Visitors to the Weavers Guild of Minnesota through June, 2018, have the opportunity to see a rich tableau of 28 Scandinavian weavings, a tantalizing fraction of the collection of Carol Johnson of Minneapolis. You can expect future exhibits and articles in this publication based on artifacts she owns.  Here’s a taste of the exhibit and an attempt to answer–how did this all come to be?

This skillbragd weaving led Carol Johnson to a lifelong passion for Scandinavian textiles. 

Carol grew up in chilly, damp Seattle, 100% Norwegian by heritage.  A linen and wool skillbragd coverlet kept her warm at night, especially during the fuel-rationed years of World War II. It was sent to her grandmother as a wedding gift in 1911 by Carol’s great-grandmother, Guri Olsdatter Aune.  

“I was a sickly kid,” Carol recalled,” so I had plenty of time to lie in bed and look at the front and the back.”  There always seemed to be a new way to examine the patterns, to see how they shifted from the front to the reverse.  The remaining fragment looks remarkably intact, considering Carol remembers her mother sending it through the wringer washing machine countless times. 

Years later, the coverlet was divided in four, one for each sibling. When Carol’s youngest uncle died, she took his section of the skillbragd back to Norway, where it now hangs in the home of a second cousin in the bedroom of her great-grandmother, a tangible piece of an immigrant family’s history. Carol’s Norwegian relatives were grateful to have the weaving, as most family textiles had been used up and discarded during the war years. 

While Carol has a passion and an eye for Scandinavian textiles, she doesn’t weave herself, claiming that she has bad hand-eye coordination.  “I got a D- in Home Economics, “ she quipped, “This isn’t my thing and I haven’t improved with age.”

With a special place in her heart for Norwegian skillbragd (Swedish opphampta or smalandsvev), it makes sense that Carol’s collection contains several in that technique, including these on display. 

She formerly bought textiles mostly at estate sales and from antique stores and dealers. Time passed, her collection grew, and then it got a real boost with modern technology and eBay, her biggest source in recent years.  When Carol’s husband Darold learned that the title of the Weavers Guild of Minnesota exhibit included, “A Passionate Pursuit,” he immediately added—more like an addiction. Happily, he is an interested supporter of his wife’s textile pursuits.

 

On a special afternoon in March Carol shared many of the items in her collection with the Scandinavian Weavers Study Group. As they sat in amazement at the obvious success of Carol’s eBay sleuthing, one person asked, “What search words did you use?” As a start, Carol suggests Swedish handwoven, Norwegian handwoven, Swedish woven, Norwegian woven. She often searches for Finnish pieces, too, but lately there haven’t been many offered.  

She has found many more Swedish than Norwegian weavings online. Why would that be? It may be that Norway was a smaller country; on the whole, there weren’t as many pieces woven. The economy was difficult in Norway, and it may be that weavings were used and worn out. In contrast, in the rich farming area of Skåne in Sweden, there was a strong tradition of weavings as a sign of wealth and prosperity. Many pieces were made for decorative and seasonal use, and carefully stored for generations. It was common for Swedish girls to have hope chests full of beautiful textiles. Some were used, some were forgotten, and over the years, many ended up at auctions. 

The sheer amount of work in all the pieces in Carol’s collection is difficult to fathom.  Weavers especially appreciate the complexity of many pieces and understand how time-consuming they are to execute. Carol commented that it is sad that she sometimes paid so little for weavings that are beautifully made. Wasn’t there anyone in the weaver’s family who appreciated something as lovely as this Swedish Art Weave piece? 

In general, she has paid less than $100 for her textiles, inexpensive indeed for such fine workmanship and materials. Shipping generally runs $20-50. Occasionally, she has paid more for postage than the weaving itself—for example, when purchasing a small tapestry. “I’ve made a lot of money for the Norwegian and Swedish and American post offices,” she noted. Perhaps that was the case for the smallest tapestry in her collection.  Are they seagulls?  They are sweet.  

Each package that arrives to Carol’s home in south Minneapolis is a marvelous mystery to open.  It’s difficult to gauge the condition of a textile from often inadequate online photos.  Will the colors be faded or vibrant? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.  And sometimes it doesn’t much matter.  This beautiful Swedish Art Weave piece has lovely soft colors, with a silvery-gray band contrasting with blue, red, and light gray dukagång stars. The palette looks intentional. 

 

Turn over the back, however, and you’ll see that the background was originally a deep blue-gray, and the red in the narrow bands has bled. 

Many of the pieces are quite large and were folded to display in the exhibit. We left one Swedish Art Weave piece folded over to show the reverse side on purpose.  You can see the vibrancy of the colors before the piece faded, and admire the exquisite workmanship. 

Some coverlets were so large that they were folded in half and then folded over a wooden rod for display, like this beautiful finely-set monks belt coverlet. 

Carol once bought a Swedish opphampta weaving because of its beautiful red and green star pattern.

When she received it, she found that it was sewn to a more simply woven fabric. 

Carol wondered, why would someone put these two together?  She started to undo the stitching, but stopped when she received the recently translated book, Heirlooms of Skåne: Weaving Techniques by Gunvor Johansson (translated by Birgitta Esselius Peterson, published by Vävstuga Press), because the mystery of the two sides was solved. She realized she shouldn’t take them apart.  The weaving is a carriage cushion, and the backs of cushions were often woven in a simpler three-shaft technique.  They also tended to be woven in the less expensive yarns: brown, yellow, green, and white. Carol’s example has other colors, too, and the patterning is fairly elaborate.  

It all made sense then.  She could see where tassels were sewn in each corner, traditionally added to protect the valuable textile during hard wear.  Johansson wrote in her book about the use of wheat flour and water rubbed into the fabric to prevent the stuffing from leaking through the fabric. Check! Carol noticed a good bit of dust on the interior of the cushion fabric. Oh, and she found a feather, too.

The majority of Carol’s weavings came with no provenance, including no dates.  This exquisitely  woven Swedish double-interlock square-weave tapestry (rölakan) is a favorite of Carol’s, as it includes the date of her birth, 1940. 

This exhibit and the sharing opportunity for the Scandinavian Weavers Study Group covered only a portion of Carol Johnson’s collection. As we look forward to close study and admiration of other pieces in the future, it seems we’ll have to work hard to keep up. Just this week Carol pointed to a deep-hued weaving on a chair by her front door.  “It just came two days ago,” she said.  Also, this is just the beginning of prime eBay season for this sort of weaving, as people in Scandinavia visit outdoor flea markets and find textiles to sell online.  Happy hunting, everyone! 

 

 

Taking a Play to Norway: The Costume Designer’s Story

 By Carol Colburn

Carol Colburn

The Uprooting – Cleng Peerson and the Norwegian Immigration of 1825 is a play written by Vigleik Rosseland about 100 years after the action depicted in the play. The script was translated into English by Kristbjørg Eide, who directed its premier American performance in 2014. The Uprooting was produced by the Nordic Center, Duluth, Minnesota and presented in four venues by Thomas Mannes of Cleng Peerson Farm, Clifton Texas. This article focuses on the experience of taking the production on tour to Norway in June, 2017.

 Since September 2011 the Nordic Center in Duluth has been actively pursuing its mission: to preserve and advance Nordic culture through social, educational, and cultural/arts programs that serve the greater community. One of Nordic Center’s longest running projects has been producing and performing a play about the adventure of the Sloopers.  Slooper is a name that is proudly claimed by thousands of Americans who can trace their roots directly back to a first group of 53 Norwegian immigrants who made the journey in a small sloop from Stavanger, Norway, to New York in 1825.

The story of those original Sloopers’ journey is the subject of a play script discovered among a pile of papers belonging to the playwright’s family in 2012 on the island of Karmøy, Norway. It was translated to English by Nordic Center board member, Kristbjørg Eide.  Since its debut in 2014, the play has been produced four times.  It has grown artistically with each production, adding music, narratives, movement, and dual language elements – as the characters have evolved and grown into distinct personalities.

After performances at the Duluth Entertainment and Convention Center for a Sons of Norway convention, then at the Underground Theater for the Duluth Community, the play went on the road to the Norwegian-American community of Clifton, Texas.  Last summer, 2017, the Nordic Center’s Slooper actors were invited to perform their play in Tysvaer, Norway. (1)

Our core troupe consisted of director, costume designer, six actors, and a musician. (2) I recruited a volunteer costume crew for sewing, and we had additional backstage help for our final week of production in Norway. For most of our development time, we were a small group, so everyone assumed multiple responsibilities along the way. While telling the historical tale of the Sloopers was important to us, as it was to the original author, we also wanted our interpretation to resonate today. Though set nearly 200 years ago, we see how this story of the Sloopers reflects the same decisions and fears faced by groups today as they contemplate such a life-changing journey. Over time the story of the long-ago immigrations to America has made these journeys sound easier and more successful than the actual experience of any individual immigrant. We know that the Sloopers found a very uncertain welcome upon landing in New York harbor. Their first years in America were extremely hard as they first settled in upstate New York, moved on to Illinois, and finally many in the group moved to Texas. A goal of our production team was to tell the story of the difficult decisions that faced these emigrants before their life-changing journey. We asked the question, “Did the emigrants have second thoughts as they left family and friends, community, and homes behind?” 

Our cast members had the experience of sailing away from Stavanger on the North Sea. The scene brought to mind possible second thoughts of the original emigrants. Photo credit: Michael Anderson 

As a Nordic Center project, the production also set a goal to strengthen connections with individuals and organizations in Norway to enhance understanding and appreciation of this history that is shared by Norwegians and Americans alike. Most Norwegians have heard of the Sloopers and their guide and leader, Cleng Peerson. On the other hand, in America, few of those in the Norwegian-American community know this story. Personally, I knew a little about the Sloopers, but I did not know that one of the forces driving this first group of Norwegians from their homeland was religious persecution. Many of the Sloopers were Quakers, which at that time was not tolerated by the state church in Norway. (3)

The costumes for The Uprooting are intended to represent early 19th century rural clothing for men and women, with attention to local conditions affecting their clothing. The Sloopers were from the Rogaland region of rural coastal Norway, where economic times were difficult, especially for farmers. In areas of deep fjords and high mountains, relative isolation further restricted access to changing fashion. Some of the real people on whom the characters in the play are based were farmers and Quakers, which at that time meant their clothing was very functional, unembellished, and made of plain fabrics in subdued colors. Lines in the play describe economic and social hardships Quakers suffered in their communities. Agricultural work on small subsistence farms meant their everyday clothing would show hard wear. Rural clothing of the time was largely made at home. Keeping sheep, spinning, weaving, and sewing were all part of the cycle of work each year. Each garment represented a large investment of both time and materials. 

With these conditions in mind, it is most important for us to tell the story effectively. We concentrated on the human story of what drove the emigrants from their homeland, the real fears they faced, hardships they had to overcome, and what they hoped to find in a new land. The action of the play depicts an important meeting arranged by members of the Quaker community. They invited the well known Cleng Peerson to their home to report on his travels to America, during which he scouted land in New York state for the group to settle. We see two couples from local farms (Hersdals and Rossadals) meeting Cleng Peerson, who arrives with Quaker leader and experienced seaman Lars Geilane. For this significant meeting, guests and hosts would present their best appearance possible. Cleng and Lars’s clothing would show their familiarity with men’s fashions from abroad, while the local people of Tysvaer appeared more parochial. We know that groups like this were meeting throughout the larger Stavanger area. The dialogue at such a meeting was imagined by the playwright, but would have been based on true accounts handed down in families such as the author’s family.

My goal as costume designer was to use costume to evoke the audience’s understanding of the characters. In truth, contemporary interpretation of period dress cannot be accurate in all aspects. We have to interpret what is most important about the clothing and the characters. Costumes also help the actors ‘become’ the real people they are portraying. My research meshed with the actors’ exploration of their roles. Actors contribute personality and a deeper understanding of motivation for each character, which is reflected in costume choices as well.

In my research for making new costume pieces for our production in Norway, I used both historical sources and some sources that were evocative of the time. Historical sources are those that have preserved scraps of information from very close to the time period of 1825: texts, artist renderings, sculpture, and remaining garments.  Evocative sources made by artists later in time interpret the historical story providing reflections on the Sloopers’ characters and events from the perspective of a later date. Contemporary sources are also referenced, such as the tradition of the bunad worn in Rogaland today. A few examples of these types of research follow.

While this play focuses on the Sloopers in the months before their voyage, the descendants of those Sloopers have preserved the story of their voyage and their arrival in America. Included in a book published by those family members is a quote from a New York City newspaper reporting on the day the immigrants arrived on the dock in the harbor. In wonderful serendipity for me, observations made by the reporter included a description of clothing, while also expressing the excitement of watching the Sloopers disembark.

“A vessel has arrived at this port with emigrants from Norway. . . .The appearance of such a party of strangers, coming from so distant a country and in a vessel of a size apparently ill calculated for a voyage across the Atlantic, could not but excite an unusual degree of interest. They have had a voyage of fourteen weeks and are all in good health and spirits. An enterprise like this argues a good deal of boldness in the master of the vessel as well as an adventurous spirit in the passengers, most of whom belong to families from the vicinity of a little town in the southwestern extremity of Norway, near Cape Stavanger.

Those who came from the farms are dressed in coarse cloths of domestic manufacture, of a fashion different from the American, but those who inhabited the town wear calico, ginghams, and gay shawls, imported, we presume, from England. The vessel is built on the model common to fishing boats on that coast, with a single mast and topsail, sloop-rigged. She passed through the English channel and as far south as Madeira, where she stopped three or four days and then started directly for New York, where she arrived with the addition of one passenger born on the way.” (4)

Guided by research on early 19th century artists published by Aagot Noss, I found drawings and watercolor sketches that gave a good background on rural folk dress. (5)

The camera had not yet been invented, but we can use work of artists who were working to make accurate depictions of rural people and their clothing. Curator and author Aagot Noss wrote of the travels of Johannes Flintoe, Joachim Frich, and Adolph Tidemand. She described the clothing depicted by them in genre scenes and portraits, then compared the images to clothing artifacts in the Norsk Folkemuseum collections. Closest in time to when the action of the play takes place is the work of the Danish artist Johannes Flintoe, who traveled and sketched in rural Norway in the 1820s, although he did not travel to the Rogaland area on the West Coast. Adolph Tidemand traveled to Rogaland a little later in the 1840s. Tidemand’s model was Siri Peer’s daughter Strand (1772 – 1863), in Ryfylket, near Tysvaer. She was an older woman when painted, and she wore her old clothes. Older women held on to their clothing, because at that time clothing was made to last a lifetime. At the time of painting, younger people would have worn somewhat more fashionable clothing. (6)

Adolph Tidemand, Siri Peersdatter Strand, Strand i Ryfylke, 1849.  Nasjonalmuseet. Photo: Anne Jarre (7)

Artists from the time also created illustrations to make a record of rural occupations. These documented what was considered to be the vanishing rural way of life as ripples of the industrial revolution were being felt in Norway. A page depicting people in rural occupations was recently reprinted in Annemor Sundbø’s book Spelsau og samspill. (8) This was very useful in showing variations of women’s bodices, jackets, and accessories for different occasions. I was happy to find the use of long pants and short pants for men depicted as having been worn at approximately the same time.

Among the sculptures at Nordmands-Dalen, there is a figure from Rogaland. Photos showing two sides: Heidi Fossnes, Magasinet Bunad

Nordmands-Dalen, in the gardens surrounding Fredensborg Castle in Denmark includes carved stone sculpture – including a figures from Rogaland.  These free standing sculptures offer front, side, and back views with a degree of animation portrayed in the figures. The carving reveals the cut of clothing as well as how the garments were accessorized. Aagot Noss also wrote about these 18th century sculptures as a pertinent source for understanding regional Norwegian dress. The sculpture garden and her research was recently highlighted in article in Magasinet Bunad. (9)

Hoping to see pictures of surviving garments from the Tysvaer area, I posed a question to Kari-Anne Pedersen at Norsk Folkemuseum. She forwarded my question to Kristin Gulbrandsen at the Norwegian Institute of Bunad and Folk Costume. (10) As a result, photographs of actual garments were generously sent to me via email. The photographic archive at the institute preserves results of a survey the institute made recently in the community of Finnøy in Rogaland. The survey documented garments preserved in private family collections including bodices, skirts, aprons, and caps.  All of these were ‘Sunday best’ clothing made of finer fabrics than would have been used by the characters depicted in The Uprooting, but these photographs of real garments allowed me as designer to appreciate and study overall shape and cut representing the history in this community very close to Tysvaer.

Bodices from Finnøy, in Rogaland. Documented by The Norwegian Institute of Bunad and Folk Costume. Photo courtesy of Norsk institutt for bunad og folkedrakt, Fagernes, Norway

The next step in my research was to study actual garments from the period. I appreciate what you can learn from the inside and outside of historical garments. Garments from this time were entirely handmade; the sewing machine was not yet invented. While I was not going to make museum reproduction garments for this project, studying real garments was inspiring and provided insight to share with actors and with my group of skilled sewing volunteers. With the help of Head Curator Laurann Gilbertson, I found I could study garments at Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum in Decorah, Iowa. Garments in collection from Rogaland and documented from the early 19th century included two bodices and a skirt. A woman’s cap in the style of Rogaland was also available for study. (11)

Bodice dated as having been worn for a wedding in 1807 and brought by immigrants to Minnesota in the early 1890s. In the collection of Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum. Photo credit: Carol Colburn

Made of wool and linen, these garments were similar in cut and materials as the garments in the photographs sent by the Norwegian Institute of Bunad and Folk Costume. This flowered brocade wool fabric is called ‘kalemank,’ and was used in a number of regions of Norway. A highly valued fabric, in the late 19th century it was imported to Norway from England. What I found most exciting was being able to study the back pleats of the bodice peplum, the linings of both wool and linen; and the use of ‘spilesaum’ handsewn seams in construction the bodices.

This detailed clothing history was given nuance by finding the work of artists who depicted the emigration experience much later in time, not unlike what the playwright had done when he wrote the play in the early 20th century. The story of Cleng Peerson and the Sloopers has been the subject of art and literature over time. For example, the Norwegian political cartoonist and illustrator Benjamin Blessum (1877–1954) illustrated the story in 1914; almost 100 years after this first emigration from Norway. While our play tells the story from the perspective of those who sailed away, Blessum’s illustration is from the view of families who saw the emigrants off at the dock in Stavanger, with tears and waves – knowing they were unlikely to see their family members again. (12)

Another example is the trilogy written by author Alfred Hauge. In the mid 20th century, he wrote the Cleng Peerson story in novel form, illustrated by Hans Christian Sondresen. Sondresen’s evocative woodcut prints show the crowded conditions of the sailing vessel. Later in the story we see the immigrants just after they landed, standing close together on the edge of the dock with their trunks piled around them. You feel their relief in landing in New York City together, while still facing an uncertain future. (13)

Cast and guests from Norway danced at the Cleng Peerson Farm near Clifton, Texas. After dining and dancing together, the Mayor of Tysvaer extended an invitation for the theater troupe to travel to Norway in 2017 for a performance and historical tour in the region where the play takes place. Photo: Michael Anderson

I first saw bunads from Rogaland when our theater troupe traveled to Texas to perform. As part of a celebration after the performance at the Cleng Peerson Farm, we met a group of 30 Norwegian visitors who had also come as guests to Clifton. They were members of Tysvaer Historielag, a historical group from the area where Cleng Peerson grew up. The Sloopers who sailed to America came from towns and farms in the same area, so many of these visitors have relatives that descended from the Sloopers. Significant for me were the garments worn by the members of the Tysvaer historical group when we met them. Many had brought bunads representative of their home area of Rogaland. Bunads are used throughout Norway today primarily for special occasions. Bunads from each region have evolved from both everyday and festive regional folk clothing of older times. Although not exactly the cut or fabrics that the Sloopers would have worn, these fine garments worn today were inspiring for me as costume designer. The festivities at the farm provided an opportunity to see these garments in action – not as static images in art, or as artifacts. I knew that our audience in Tysvaer would also be familiar with their local bunad tradition when they viewed our historical play set in their community. There are many published and online sources available that trace the development of the Rogaland bunad. (14)

By early spring in 2017, the actors were meeting weekly to rehearse, and I began to draft patterns, have fittings, and recruit assistants for sewing and finishing the costumes. As about a year had passed between each of our four separate productions of The Uprooting, we relied on our written records each time we revived and added new elements to our interpretation of the script. We wrote and published a book containing the script in Norwegian and English, including the story of finding and translating the script, as well as musical and narrative additions. A chapter on costume considerations includes my character analysis and early costume sketches. (15) After compiling costume research, making character sketches served to solidify my ideas and then served as a guide as the various costume pieces came together for each character. These simple sketches became my blueprint for assembling some pieces and constructing new pieces that would reflect the sources described above. It is a way of making a visual list for the costume designer, and serves to let the director and performers know what to expect when the costumes are finished.

Sample Character Sketches for The Uprooting, Carol Colburn

Our budget was ‘shoestring’, meaning a very tight budget, relying on volunteer help and fundraising to pay for all production related expenses and materials. All members of our theater troupe initially paid for their own transportation. We sold Norwegian cookies (krumkake) and sent out letters to seek donations. The University of Minnesota Duluth Department of Theater was very supportive in allowing rental of period costume pieces from their stock, as we could not make or purchase everything needed, given our restricted time and budget. We were able to borrow garments such as men’s pants and coats, boots, and hats.

Six characters and the musician were fully costumed, with a number of new items made to reflect the research on Rogaland regional folk dress. For traveling to Norway, the costumes also needed to include all the layers of real clothing at the time, because we anticipated being outdoors in any weather. I drafted period  patterns to replicate the women’s cap and the bodice with pleated peplum that I had studied in the Vesterheim collection. Machine sewing and hand finishing was accomplished with skilled stitchers from the Duluth Fiber Handcrafter’s Guild and community volunteers. The main items that were newly built for the performance in Norway were the vests for the men, the bodices for the women, linen shirts and caps for the women. I made some design compromises due to restrictions on time and money. While I had hoped to make men’s knee length pants, my decision was to approximate the look with wool pants adjusted to be neatly tucked into tall boots. 

Period costumes are never one size fits all, so every time we produced the play over four years, there were changes in the cast requiring adjustments to the costumes. Another interesting factor was our lead singer’s growing family, with two pregnancies during our four years of producing the play. We decided it was very appropriate for her character to be pregnant. Adjusting the costumes for real size changes required for comfort while maintaining consistency with 19th century maternity clothing was a challenge for both the performer and costumer. We made the decision that elastic was just fine as long as the audience did not see it.

As costume designer I attended all rehearsals, and often read roles for absent actors.  This way I stayed in touch with exactly how the costumes would be required to function for movement on stage, and how they would be seen by the audience. Throughout the rehearsal process we incorporated costume props and accessories such as boots, hats, purses, walking sticks, and smoking pipes. 

Final dress rehearsal in Duluth with most of the cast in their basic indoor clothing. Additional layers were provided for their costumes for outdoor events in Norway. Photo credit: Carol Colburn

After final dress rehearsal, each actor tightly rolled their bulky costume pieces to be packed in their personal luggage for the flight to Norway. I packed a tool kit and back-up pieces as I knew in Norway there would be wear and tear on these costumes beyond the one evening’s performance. Having heard from our hosts in Norway, we anticipated coastal and mountain conditions of cold or heat – wind, rain, and mud – knowing that many outdoor activities were planned for cast and crew.

After our arrival in Bergen and driving about half way along the coast to Stavanger, we were introduced to the countryside and landmarks that had been the homeland of the Sloopers. Our visit was covered by newspapers in the area and Norwegian national news. Midsummer festivities in Tysvaer provided opportunities for meeting community members at outdoor events. Cast members joined the annual Cleng Peerson Walk, a hike along the very path the emigrants took from the Rossadal farm to the Hersdal farm. Community members reenact this rugged hike every year, and they continue on to the edge of the fjord, where the Sloopers boarded a boat to take them to the sloop named Restauration in Stavanger. We attended a musical event at a monument to Cleng Peerson, and also presented music from the play in the mountainside farmyard of the Hersdal farm.

We experienced sailing the reconstructed Restauration and imagined the crowded conditions the original Sloopers experienced on their three month voyage. Photo credit: Carol Colburn

A day later, the cast and crew sailed on the North Sea in heavy rain, sailing out of the docks in Stavanger. We sailed in the rain for a day. It was sobering to think of the 53 Sloopers who sailed in all weather for 98 days, crowded together with all their luggage and supplies. Despite a very small ship, no privacy for families, and only preserved and dried food, all the Sloopers arrived safely. On board, a healthy baby was born, so when they arrived in the New York harbor, there were 54.

The outdoor community experiences for our theater troupe helped us understand more about 19th century rural life. Along the way, we met local residents of the area who knew all about the real people on whom the characters were based. It was not a new story to them, but it was a new experience for them to meet Americans who had crossed the ocean to ‘bring the story back.’ It was also satisfying for me to hear local residents comment on the costumes. One woman who is a bunad maker recognized and commented on the pattern cut and the wool and linen fabrics that did reflect Rogaland clothing traditions to her trained eye. In addition to the rather dramatic experiences of hiking and sailing, we visited other historic sights, such as the small home where Cleng Peerson spent his childhood years, and to the Quaker meeting house, the location of which had to be secret in those days due to fears of religious persecution. Each of the trips required costume maintenance with quick turn-around time for cleaning, steaming, and ironing before every event. Luckily, we were fed and housed very comfortably with host families. We were able to re-group each night while maintaining this demanding schedule for 10 days.

Linen shirts drying on the clothesline. Photo: Carol Colburn

Our costumed flute player joined us for staging rehearsals in the 360 seat house in the community center in the town of Aksdal. To our surprise, the stage was set by our friends in the Tysvaer Historielag with props and furniture from the Cleng Peerson historical house. Lights were added by the house theater technician, and sound levels were adjusted to the action at our final technical rehearsal.

My role the night of performance was to make sure everyone was ready backstage, and then to take a seat in the audience to watch the costumes in action. As costume designer, I am not on stage as part of the curtain call – but for me, being backstage and then in the audience gives me a full experience of theater that is the best of both worlds.

Curtain Call. After our performance of The Uprooting, a community choral group from the nearby community of Sand told another chapter of the Slooper story in song. We shared the final curtain call with the chorus, also in costume. Photo credit: Caitlin Nielsen

A live performance is not complete without the participation of the audience. Director Kristbjørg Eide summed up her impressions of the play’s effect on the audience, and their response, in her article published in The Banner.

“The story of the Sloopers filled the Tysvaertunet Theater in the glow of stage lights, to the haunting music of a traditional Norwegian flute accompanying a melodic soprano as characters on stage delivered lines in both English and the Norwegian dialect of the Sloopers’ home region. A rhythmic ovation of 360 audience members clapping in unison showed their appreciation. And all this began at our Duluth Nordic Center.” (16)

Carol Colburn – Designing costumes for this play focusing on Norwegian emigration, Carol has combined her interests in Norwegian-American clothing history and theatrical costume design. She is co-author with Laurann Gilbertson of the Vesterheim publication Handweaving in the Norwegian Tradition and has contributed chapters on Norwegian-American clothing to Marion Nelson’s books Norwegian Folk Art: The Migration of a Tradition and Material Culture and People’s Art Among the Norwegians in America. After a career teaching design for theater, opera, and dance, she is Professor Emerita at the University of Northern Iowa. Now living in Duluth, Minnesota she continues to write about clothing history and to make garments inspired by her research. She teaches heritage sewing workshops at North House Folk School in Grand Marais, Minnesota and John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina. 
  1. Kristbjørg Eide, “The Uprooting in Norway: Theater Troupe with a Mission,” The Banner (newsletter for the Nordic Center), Fall, 2017.
  2. Production Team: Director Kristbjørg Eide and Costume Designer Carol Colburn. Actors Jason Nordberg (Cleng Peerson), Mike Raschick (Lars Geilane), Jim Anderson (Kornelius Hersdal), Erika Bjerketvedt (Kari Hersdal), Michael K. Anderson (Daniel Rossadal), Caitlin Nielson (Berta Rossadal), and Laura Larson (Musician).
  3. J. Hart Rosdail. The Sloopers: Their Ancestry and Posterity. Norwegian Slooper Society of America, 1961.
  4. New York Daily Advertiser, Wednesday, October 12, 1825. Reprinted in The Sloopers by J. Hart Rosdail
  5. Aagot Noss. “Norske folkedrakter set med kunstnarauge: Ei Kjeldekritisk studie 2.”  Kunst og Kultur Nr. 1, 2002. Published by Universitetsforlaget in collaboration with the  Nationalgalleriet.
  6. Email to Carol Colburn from Kristin Gulbrandsen, The National Council of Folk Costumes in Norway, March 24, 2017. 
  7. ibid.
  8. Annemor Sundbø. Spelsau og samspill. Bokbyen Forlag, 2015, page 127. 
  9. Heidi Fossness. “Nordmands-Dalen,” Magasinet Bunad, Nr. 1, May 2015, page 54-67.
  10. Email to Carol Colburn from Kristin Gulbrandsen, The National Council of Folk Costumes in Norway, March 24, 2017. 
  11. Vesterheim Collection. #LC0914. These garments have been in the Vesterheim Collection since 1953 (at that time the collection at Luther College) donated by Aslaug Toftoy. This bodice dates from 1807, known because it was used as bridal clothing by Kari Olsdatter from Solim on Sunday 19, July 1807, when she married Holger Nielsen Toftoy.  Place of origin is stated as Norway/Rogaland/Haugesunddistricktet/Ryfylke/Solim.
  12. J. Hart Rosdail. The Sloopers: Their Ancestry and Posterity. Norwegian Slooper Society of America, 1961.
  13. Cleng Peerson: Hundevakt (1961, Part I of the Cleng Peerson trilogy of novels); Cleng Peerson: Landkjenning (1961, Part II); Cleng Peerson: Ankerfeste. (1965, Part III)
  14. Husfliden Stavanger. http://husflidenstavanger.no
  15. Vigleik Rosseland. The Uprooting. Cleng Peerson and the Norwegian Immigration of 1825: A Play. The Nordic Center, 2015. Contributors: Thomas Mannes, Text plus Norwegian translation; Kristbjørg Eide, Text plus English translation; Carol Ann Colburn, Costumer.
  16. Kristbjørg Eide, “The Uprooting in Norway: Theater Troupe with a Mission,” The Banner (newsletter for the Nordic Center), Fall, 2017.

Craft and Identity Course Exhibit: The Students’ Statements

By Heidi Goldberg, Associate Professor of Art

Examples of students’ warp-weighted loom weaving

Last summer from May 9th through June 7th, 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. 

 

Craft and Identity: An Immersion Course in Norway

By Heidi Goldberg

It was 14 years ago that my friend Dawn Tommerdahl and I began taking weaving classes together. It wasn’t long after that I became aware of the wonderful world of Scandinavian weaving. We both fell in love with weaving (already being avid knitters and fiber fanatics). In short time we had a “string gang” as Dawn and I were joined by friends Charlie Hovde, Sharon Marquardt, and Marian Quanbeck-Dahlberg, who are all marvelous weavers. Fiber communities seem to be ever-expanding groups (particularly with the marvel of communication via social media at our fingertips) where the culture of sharing, support, passion, and knowledge keeps us all moving forward. Over the years the string gang has motivated and learned from each other while taking classes at the Vesterheim Museum in Decorah, Iowa, and at our highly anticipated annual get-togethers. These experiences I revel in as an artist also feed my work as an educator. Exposing students to the thrills of cultivating and working with natural materials through observation and practice is exhilarating. Naturally I want to share this culture of learning and accomplishment with students and see them embrace the joys of seeing, designing, and making. Having the opportunity of going to Norway with a group of students and connecting with artists in Norway was a sweet adventure that I couldn’t have dreamt of in my early days of teaching, and one for which I am extremely grateful. 

After years of preparation and an invaluable scouting trip to Norway to explore and set up contacts, things were set for a summer school course in Norway from May 9th–June 7th, 2017, called Craft and Identity. The goal of the course in a nutshell was to study art and craft practices and traditions, and to look at how they relate to ourselves as individuals, makers, and artists considering the following;

  • influences of history on art/craft
  • fundamental connection of art/craft to nature and environment
  • function and design as they relate to form/intention
  • technical processes of various media
  • critical use of fundamentals of design elements and principles
  • aesthetic/style 
  • integration, support, and importance of art/craft in society 
  • connections between traditional and contemporary arts 
  • connections and differences between Nordic (Scandinavian) arts and arts of other cultures

Our travel group consisted of four students; Allison Pahl, Alexis Anderson, Kristina Brunson, and Rachel Johnson, plus my 13-year-old Aubrie, and me. Traveling from Fargo to Lillehammer went well, and despite full understanding on the part of this northern crew of the necessity of cold weather preparation, some wardrobe upgrades were vital. So, the day after our arrival and an exhilarating morning walking through sleet in Lillehammer and Maihaugen, we discovered Fretex (a treasure trove of second-hand quality goods) where some fine bargain lambswool was procured! Exploring the exhibits at Maihaugen laid the foundation of historical and creative inquiry for the trip with its extensive and holistic collection of artifacts that illuminated the art and culture of multiple eras in Norway.

Niblet, the Concordia College mascot, visits the Olympic ski jump in Lillehammer..

Museum and gallery visits (balancing historic and contemporary foci) were an important part of the course in each location to which we travelled, but the hands-on components were particularly memorable. We took a bus to Gjøvik for a short workshop to learn about and print skinnfell with Britt Solheim in her studio. She treated us to an unexpected traditional Norwegian lunch in her home, the first of a number of very special moments of warm hospitality we encountered. The next day we were treated to a wonderful talk about the prints of Vegard Stalsberg at Galleri Zink, and we investigated the exhibitions at the Lillehammer Kunstmuseum. Another highlight was walking up to the Olympic ski jump at the top of the city. 

When we arrived in Oslo, it was appropriate for us to begin our stay with a visit to the National Gallery. We were happy to find Oslo welcoming and easy to find one’s way around in. We stayed just north of the Royal Palace, allowing easy mobility around the central part of the city. We packed a lot into our 11 days in Oslo, along with a day-trip to Eidsvoll Verk to see Constitution Hall. We toured the facilities of the National Opera, took in the ballet of Don Quixote, window-shopped on Karl Johan, saw Akerhus Fortress and Castle, Vigeland Park, Vår Frelsers graveyard, Grünerlokka, The Munch Museum, Aker Brygge, the Astrup Fearnley Museum, and much more. Occasions when people shared their expertise were particularly special. 

In front of the National Gallery: Aubrie Goldberg, Alexis Anderson, Rachel Johnson, Alli Pahl, and Kristina Brunson

We spent time at the Norwegian Folk Museum and met with ethnologist, curator of textiles and costumes, and bunad expert Kari-Anne Pedersen to prepare for the multitude of bunads from all regions we were to see on Norwegian Constitution Day. On Syttende Mai we had tickets to stand on the palace grounds and see the royal family and the parade from a great vantage point – which was memorable because one becomes completely surrounded by the festivities. The following day we were invited to the home of Kari-Anne Pedersen to learn some basic embroidery techniques. She taught us a bit of the beautifully contrasting geometric technique with linen thread called smøyg, while her friend Helen Juell taught us some organic/floral rosesaum with wool thread. We sat together around the table, talking, listening, and learning. All this while enjoying good chocolate and coffee, and a wonderful lunch with home-made lompe, cheese, meat, and jam. Delicious!

A studio visit with Kari Steihaug

A tour with Kathy Elliott, Lecturer in the Department of Exhibitions at the Cultural History Museum, was wonderful; she imparted rich knowledge and stories and is so passionate about teaching Viking and medieval art. We also explored an island in the Oslofjord called Hovedøya. It was an honor to be invited into the studios of noted fiber artists Inger Johanne Rasmussen (who makes mesmerizing colorful large works with inlaid felted wool), and Kari Steihaug (who creates poignant and beautiful socially active works in the form of installations). It was critical for us to witness contemporary artistic process with the works they shared and make connections between the past and present. We left Oslo with many more miles on our shoes and took the scenic train trip to Bergen en route to the largest inland island in Norway, Osterøy.

We stayed on an idyllic farm, Skjerping Gård, among grazing Vilsau sheep and we walked back and forth to the museum each day. It was at the Hordaland Museum where we took a week-long intensive workshop on warp-weighted weaving. I knew Marta Kløve Juuhl from a previous course at the Vesterheim in Decorah, Iowa, and was delighted to meet Monika Sunnanå Ravnanger (a fashion designer and weaver who also has expertise in traditional dying methods), who is also working at the Hordaland Museum. The two were marvelous teachers. 

Preparation for a day at the loom,

We worked on warping and weaving a variety of techniques on warp-weighted looms, with two people working per loom. The students had the choice of making a sampler of a traditional colorful åkle with various weave structures, or a Viking varafel with dehkhår (long fibers of the wild sheep – Vilsau). The students all chose the colorful åkle project while Aubrie and I opted for varafeldur, so it was nice for everyone to see variety of work progressing during the week. We were also fortunate to watch Monika develop a special project. She was weaving white varafel sleeves on the warp-weighted loom as part of a collaboration with a Norwegian fashion designer for a piece for the famous Norwegian musician Aurora. It was exciting seeing this work being done, and it was a striking example of how old craft lends itself to contemporary practice in art. We were treated to Marta’s talk on some extraordinary historic objects in the collection (both tools and weavings), and Monika’s talk on traditional dye methods. Also, there was excitement about Marta’s newly released book, The Warp-Weighted Loom (a worthy investment). The week-long workshop was a well-placed break from the faster pace of exploration we had up to that point. It was good to have time to reflect, walk in nature, and pursue the single goal in learning new technique and weaving for the week. 

Concordia students working on back-to-back warp-weighted looms at the Hordaland Museum in Osterøy, Norway

Unforgettable Bergen antique shop

It was bittersweet to leave Osterøy but exciting to head to Bergen for our last days to explore the famous port city with its incredible fish market and charming streets. We began understanding the city with a ride up the mountain on the Floibanen, where one is rewarded with an aerial view of the city below. We followed that with healthy miles of hiking on the mountain and back down to and through the city. The next day we were kindly given a tour in the backrooms at Husfliden to see preparations of bunads (thanks to Monika for arranging it with a colleague). We enjoyed the Kode art museums as well as antique stores in Bergen. A Norway in a Nutshell tour (by train, bus, and boat) featured jaw-dropping nature along the Bergen Railway, Flåm Railway, Aurlandsfjord, Nærøyfjord, and Stalheimskleiva. It was awe-inspiring to absorb the incredible scenery along the fjords from our front row seats. It was a fluid connection to where we started in Lillehammer at Maihaugen, looking at the objects people used that were inspired by the power of nature and the necessity of navigating through it. Everything comes full circle.

Six months after the trip we shared the results of our work in Norway with our community. We put together a modest exhibition of the weavings we made called Craft and Identity – Summer School in Norway: Learning Weaving Traditions of Western Norway, at the Prairie Fiber Arts Center in Moorhead, Minnesota. My hope is that these marvelous students who helped make the trip so delightful, will be inspired to continue with what they have learned on this adventure and that they let the experience inspire life choices that will cultivate inspiration and satisfaction for many years. 

Heidi Goldberg is an Associate Professor of Art and Chair of the Art Department at Concordia College, Moorhead, Minnesota, where she has taught since 1995. She graduated with a BA from Hamline University in 1990, and earned her MFA in printmaking and works on paper from the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor in 1993. Inspired by topics regarding the natural world and our relationships to it, Goldberg works in mixed media, fiber, and printmaking.  Her works have been exhibited in local, regional, national and international juried exhibitions. She lives in the sand hills near the Sheyenne National Grasslands in North Dakota.

 

Ullialt: A Program to Promote Norwegian Wool

Translator’s note: Norges Husflidslag (the Norwegian Handcraft Association) is working on a four-year project to increase the knowledge, use, and availability of Norwegian wool, titled Ullialt (Wool in Everything). This article originally appeared in Lokalhistorisk Magasin (No. 1-2, 2016), and is translated and reprinted with permission. Robbie LaFleur 

By Sølvi Westvang, Project Leader

Norwegian wool has saved lives. It has given us a national identity and proud stories from the extreme climate of Norway. Sixty percent of all Norwegians have wool in their closets, in contrast to almost 0% in the wool-nation of England.  In Norway you don’t see children in nursery school between November and April without wool clothes, and when we have time off we pick up our knitting needles. When we handle wool we assume it is from Norway—but that is rare.

As the country’s largest organization for handcraft and textiles, we know both the users of wool and the market well. Misleading labels and difficult to find information on the wool we use has made the need for a better labeling system and broader knowledge of Norwegian wool apparent. 

For that reason Norges Husflidslag (the Norwegian Handcraft Association) arranged a national meeting in 2014 and has undertaken a focus on wool for the period from 2015-2018, under the project name Ullialt (wool in everything). 

Economic cornerstone in a meager landscape 

Norwegian wool has created cornerstone businesses in Norwegian towns and communities, and through generations it was the basis of demanding work for untold numbers of women in their homes, both in connection with home and animal care, and with handcraft.  Children and husbands must be kept warm, and women required the skills and knowledge to create everything that was needed.  Communities developed as a result of the need for wool products. But then imports began to increase, factories were bought out, and production was taken out of the country.  Knowledge of the past disappeared.  Long ago. 

Today’s environmental focus, a “green wave,” has contributed to a change in our attitude as consumers.  We want to know how our products were made, how the animals were treated along the way.  We want insight into the environmental costs of their production. “Local” has positive connotations. Today there is status in purchasing items produced close to home. Designers, handcraft producers, and consumers are placing pressure, and manufacturers have just started to respond to these demands.

Is is Norwegian? 

But there is one way to go, and today labeling of wool products is one of the biggest challenges. The rule seems to be: The bigger the Norwegian flag there is on the tag, the smaller chance there is that what you hold in your hand is made of Norwegian wool.  

Ask about the origin when you are shopping! Many powers are pulling the in same direction to identify Norwegian wool. The National Institute for Consumer Research has the ball now, while several subject specialists contribute opinions and knowledge during the project.  During the project period we hope to see the contours of a label regulation that will help knowledgeable consumers purchase correctly: clothes and yarn with deep roots in our local and national history. 

You are what you eat

Images from an Ullialt poster

That is true for sheep, too. A good life with good food from the Norwegian landscape and nature gives our 2.5 million sheep good meat and fine wool (when the sheep choose themselves, they eat herbs.) 

4500 tons of wool are produced in Norway annually.  Barely a third of this becomes yarn or textiles for you and me. The rest of the wool is exported or discarded. 53,000 tons, or about half, of all the textiles sold in Norway are made of cotton that has traveled halfway around the world one or many times.  Our average use of cotton is three times as big as that of the rest of the world. Norwegian wool travels a short way and has been minimally treated with chemicals. Our sheep are healthy, and their wool is renewable and environmentally friendly.  Norwegian wool is a resource with huge potential! 

Through the Ullialt program Norway’s Handcraft Association has taken a leading role in disseminating information on Norwegian wool.  From April 20-23, 2017, we held a conference in Stjørdal under the the project’s name: Ullialt. In the course of four days almost 200 participants received insight into politics, land use, handcraft techniques, environmental labeling, design, and a number of other facets concerning wool. The project will include several initiatives during the project period.  We will especially try to reach children, young people, and farmers. It is important to root our knowledge here, because this is the future for Norwegian wool! 

Translator’s note: There is much more information on the project on the Husflid website, at www.husflid.no/fagsider/ullialt, including: an inspiration page listing many books on spinning, knitting, and weaving with wool; several knitting projects featuring wool; and a page featuring several methods to knit heels of socks (!).  Ullialt sponsored a “warm feet” contest, and published the winning sock knitting pattern, designed by Synnøve Smedhus (pictured). If you would like to see any of the other sections translated for the next Norwegian Textile Letter, let me know, at: lafleur1801@me.com. The images in this article are from the Ullialt pages.

When I contacted Sølvi Westvang about my translation, she enthusiastically updated me:  

So much is happening in the Norwegian wool industry right now! Consumers growing consciousness is forcing through clearer marketing, more products and an increased focus on ecology. Most products are not labelled “eco” or “ecologic”, but our sheep grazes in the forests and mountains all summer long. They live free and eat ecologically most of their lifes. Norwegian farming is one of the safest and most transparent in the whole world. Every country in Europe use more antibiotics than we do on our farms!

In September there is a big festival in Seljord, Telemark. It’s calles Dyrsku’n and was traditionally a place to meet, show, sell and buy cows, sheeps etc. Today it is much more, and here you find arts and crafts, music, lectures, wool, Norwegian culture + + +. This year wool is the main theme of the handcrafts exhibition. Well worth a visit for all who’s interested in that sorts. https://www.dyrskun.no/

On our Facebook-page we update our followers on news from Norwegian wool: https://www.facebook.com/tydelignorskull/

I know that I and many of my fellow weavers in Minnesota appreciate Norwegian wool.  For example, here is one of many skeins I ordered this month for a weaving. 

Robbie LaFleur

 

 

 

 

A Wonderful Scanian Art Weaves Adventure

By Edi Thorstensson

Our teacher, Gunvor Johansson

This issue includes contributions made by weavers—all of us Americans– enrolled last June 2017 in a Scanian Art Weaves class, taught at the Swedish Handicrafts Center for Skåne in Landskrona, a beautiful city on the western coast of southern Sweden.  Here we experienced the unforgettable opportunity to study classic Swedish weaving techniques under the tutelage of master weaver, Gunvor Johansson. 

Skåne (often referred to as Scania in English-speaking countries) is Sweden’s southernmost province and, historically, one of its most prosperous and populous.  Rich in textile tradition, Skåne has been influenced by its proximity to Denmark, of which it was a province until 1658.  Still, it’s culture is distinctly Swedish.  Landskrona is a quiet, thriving city with a citadel dating from 1549 and a lovely community garden colony, where one in twenty-seven city inhabitants has an allotment.  (For more information, see the Landskrona Wikipedia entry.)

Landskrona’s Old Train Station, home of Skånsk Hemslöjd.

Seven of us—Mary Erickson, Melba Granlund, Liz Hunter, Sharon Marquardt, Jan Mostrom, Mary Skoy, and Edi Thorstensson — came to Scandinavia with the  Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum’s 2017 Textile Study Tour through Denmark and Norway. It ended on June 24, and we prepared to leave Bergen for Copenhagen, the closest air connection to Southern Sweden.  A flight cancellation had us rebooked for a late arrival that gave us little time to catch the train from Copenhagen to Landskrona, but all went well, and we arrived at our destination in the dark— even though it was the weekend of Midsommar, the summer solstice celebration! The eighth member of our group, Janis Aune, met us in Landskrona. Here, we settled into the comfortable Hotel Öresund, situated within walking distance of Skånes Hemslöjd, located in Landskrona’s old railroad station, where our class took place.

Classroom, with Liz Hunter at the table, Melba Granlund and Edi Thorstensson at the looms

On Stiftelsen Skånsk Hemslöjd’s archives and the appreciation for historical textiles

In addition to rewarding class time at our looms, we were treated to a very special insiders’ tour of the SSH archives and a visit to Bosjökloster, where we saw a beautiful exhibit of our instructor’s work in a lovely historical setting (see Mary Ericsson’s article, “Gunvor Johansson’s Exhibit at Bosjökloster.” 

Field inventory, showing provenance, yarns, and pattern

A short walk from Hemslöjd to a quiet street, we entered a secured building that houses the Skåne Handicrafts Foundation’s textile archives.  Climbing a narrow stairway to a locked door, we followed Åsa and Gunvor into a room lined with storage cabinets and drawers where precious textiles encompassing many genres are stored.  Here are the historical links to a vibrant textile heritage, examples reflecting the skills of women who wove for their households and, in some cases, for others.  Much of the collection has been documented for provenance, but it includes items that have not been documented and field records, as well.  All are cared for with respect and pride, all are inventoried.  All are important and valued parts of Skåne’s and Sweden’s cultural history, its textile legacy. 

Åsa and Gunvor in the archives. Gunvor is wearing gloves used when handling textiles, paper, photographs, and other materials. The gloves help protect archival materials from skin oils and other substances that might cause damage.

Following are examples of items in the archives. 

Closing Words and Images 

Each weaver came away with special memories, only some of which are told here.  Liz Hunter writes, 

“this time in Landskrona was a joyful turning point for me!  i knew i wasn’t going to do the classical patterns. i did gain a greater understanding [for] them. instead, i concentrated on flossa and rya.   these will give me the ability to combine painting with weaving….and to turn from production weaving to more artistic expression.  gunvor and asa were so kind to me:  i’m sure having one student going in a different direction, and trying to speak to them in broken norwegian from 40 years ago, was not easy.  at the end of the session, they each gave me a vintage rya pile measuring tool, which i treasure.  i also treasure their passion and love of swedish weaving!”

Each weaver brought home with her a story and a sample of her own making.  Here are three samples that have found or are finding their way to completion:

Mary Skoy plans to make her sample into a pillow with ribbon embellishments.

Janis Aune’s sample, fashioned into a purse to wear with her folk costume.

Edi Thorstensson’s sample, showing knotted finishing in progress, for a wall hanging that will eventually include bobbin lace and inkle loom-woven band embellishments.

Special praise for Gunvor Johansson’s excellent book, Heirlooms of Skåne : Weaving TechniquesShelburne, MA : Vävstuga Press, 2016.  This is an excellent resource for both textile historians and weavers.  It features chapters on various techniques mentioned above, as well as three-harness weaving.  It is beautifully illustrated and includes pattern drafts.  Highly recommended.

We students share a feeling of deep gratitude for all that Gunvor Johansson and Åsa Stentoft gave us during our time with them.  They welcomed us and treated us with great optimism, patience and kindness.  They taught us skills that we will incorporate in our weaving–some of which will find its way into loved ones’ lives–and pass along to others. This is community.  This is who we, as weavers, are.

I wish to thank everyone who contributed words, photographs, and moral support to make this set of Skane adventure articles happen.  I apologize for not crediting photographers individually for the images they shared in our Skane articles.  Can you live with our being a collective of pretty good anonymous photographers? 

Read more about how this textile adventure came about and what it entailed in the other articles in this issue.

Weaving the Art Weaves of Skåne 
Inspiration, Outreach, and Connection   
Gunvor Johansson’s Exhibit at Bosjökloster 
Fika and the Joy of Lingonberry Cake

Edi Thorstensson is a retired librarian and archivist who has appreciated the history and creation of Scandinavian textiles since her first visit to Europe in 1961.    She is a member of the Minnesota Weavers Guild Scandinavian Weavers Study Group and the Pioneer Spinners and Fiber Artists guild.  She lives in St. Peter, Minnesota, with her husband Roland and Icelandic sheep dog Ára.

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