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Nordic Notes: Exhibits and Articles

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Exhibits

Scandinavian design show imageScandinavian Design and the United States, 1890–1980. March 24-July 23, 2023. Milwaukee Art Museum.

This blockbuster exhibition is dedicated to the extensive design exchanges between the United States and Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Norway, and Iceland during the 20th century. It includes a whole Volvo; a troll doll; amazing silver, furniture and pottery; and many textiles. It also includes Frida Hansen’s monumental tapestry, Sørover (Southward).

Want to read more before planning a trip? Here are reviews:

Milwaukee Magazine, “This Massive Tapestry at the Milwaukee Art Museum Was Almost Lost to History.”
InsideHook, “The Endless Influence of Scandinavian Design Gets Its Due in Wisconsin“.
OnMilwaukee, “From Lego to a vintage Volvo: MAM’s new Scandinavian design exhibit is pure joy“.
Spectrum News, “Milwaukee Art Museum paints a new picture of American design in­flu­ences with new Scan­di­navian exhibit“.
New City Design, “Beyond Hygge: Inside Milwaukee’s Scandinavian Design Exhibition.”

 

Leading With Our Hearts ~ Ojibwe, Sami and Nordic Designs From Nature.  March 17-April 29, 2023. Nordic Center, Duluth, Minnesota.

This exhibition will feature traditional and contemporary floral and geometric designs from Ojibwe, Nordic and Sami textile traditions. Ojibwe floral beadwork and regalia from Fond Du La Reservation members and Swedish-Norwegian inspired paintings of folk dress motifs, embroideries and tapestries will be presented in an installation to promote the healing power of nature and to celebrate cultural traditions of the North.

Scandinavian Design in the United States, 1890-1980

An Article about Sámi Weaving Traditions

Safeguarding Practices is a website designed to share experiences in safeguarding intangible cultural heritage in the Nordic and Baltic region, under the auspices of The UNESCOs 2003 Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage. The webpage is developed in collaboration with the Nordic and Baltic network on Intangible Cultural Heritage.

One of the articles about Norway, “Good Practice from Norway: Keeping Sámi Weaving Tradition Alive,” begins: “The weaving of belts, shawls, shoelaces, bands and other garments is typical of traditional Sámi handicrafts, called duodji in the North Sámi language. Duodji is an essential part of the living culture of the Sámi, the indigenous peoples of Northern Europe who live in Norway, Sweden, Finland and North-West Russia.”

Find Inspiration in Beautiful Norwegian Textiles from Husfliden

Norwegian Textile Letter readers who have traveled in Norway know about Norsk Husfliden stores found in towns throughout Norway. Their website is a beautiful place to browse. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know Norwegian — You’ll still find inspiration, and I’ll bet you could even figure out how to order items. The page says: “Norsk Design. Made to be used. Made to last. Norwegian design is always a good idea. Here are some of our favorites.”

Sign up for their nyhetsbrev (newsletter). It doesn’t come out often, but each time you will be inspired by the beautiful products and photography.

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

Celebrating Sprang, a Traditional Twining Technique

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By Robbie LaFleur

I knew little about sprang until recently when I ran across the work of Liilian Saksi. This young Norwegian artist has taken the traditional white lacy technique and used it to create contemporary geometric art works full of color and meaning.

I had also seen references to Carol James, an American who learned about sprang and then used it as a springboard to design complex patterns and amazing pieces of clothing. She has written books and produced videos teaching the technique.

It is inspiring to read about these two artists, who each in their own styles took a traditional technique and made it their own. Read: “Liilian Saksi: An Artist in Språgning,” and “Twist of Fate: Carol James’ Journey in Sprang.”

A Short Introduction to Traditional Sprang with Some Examples

Sprang is appreciated in Norway as a traditional braiding technique. Most people think of white lacy borders on curtains or towels when sprang is mentioned, like this piece owned by the Sverresborg Trøndelag Folkemuseum.

Lace border in sprang technique. Sverresbord Trøndelag Folkemuseum. (full record)

The sprang technique is included on the Rødliste [Red list] of endangered traditional handcraft techniques by the national handcraft association, Husflid. The Husflid local group in Vågå studied sprang. Their document on the technique includes photos of contemporary items made with sprang, like gloves, a lampshade, and a dress for a small girl. There are two demonstration videos (in Norwegian). Their introduction to sprang reads in part [translation mine]:

In sprang, a braiding technique, yarn is stretched between two sticks or on a frame. The threads, which are left parallel, are wound around each other and can form different patterns. The technique has been widespread over large parts of the world and the oldest finds are from Egypt from approximately 2000 BCE.

In the Nordic countries it has been known since the Bronze Age. The oldest finds in Norway are dated 300–400 CE and are made of wool.

Among the textile implements in the Oseberg find from the first half of the 8th century is a frame that is assumed to have been used for sprang. In Norway, the technique has been widely used to make decorative objects, such as tablecloths, decorative towels and curtains.

Here is a frame with sprang underway.

Photo from the Sverresborg Trøndelag Museum of a sprang frame. (full record)

This description of the sprang frame comes from the Sverresborg Trøndelag Museum [translation mine].

A simple and square sprang frame made of untreated wood. There are 21 holes on each vertical side. In these, the warp threads are attached at the top and bottom. With the help of the holes, you can choose the length of the work. The warp threads are attached to a wooden plug which is fixed in the holes. The yarn for the sprang work is lashed around the warp threads above and below. It is braided/twined from the top. The work is identical above and below. Dividing sticks (4 flat wooden strips) have been inserted in the work. The sprang frame has simple feet with a cross plank in between. Sprang, sometimes called bregding, is an old and special needlework technique.

Sprang Artifacts in Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum

Here are four examples of historical sprang, from the collection of the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum.

1975.033.003 and 1977.065.002.  Both pieces were made by Camilla Heiberg Stoylen of Bergen, Norway. 1977.065.002 was made in about 1915 and used as trim for a curtain. 1975.033.003 was probably made at about the same time.
Camilla (or Kamilla, 1869-1957) grew up in an old merchant family. She attended boarding school in Växjo, Sweden, where she learned sewing, weaving, and other textile techniques.  The sprang pieces were brought to the U.S. by Camilla’s son, either in 1921 when he immigrated or on a later visit home. It was donated to the museum by Sigvald Stoylen.

Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum piece 1977.065.002.

Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum piece 1975.033.003.

1985.129.017.  Ingeborg Husan Sjetne (1877-1963) of Hedmark, Norway, made this piece of edging and entered it in a 1952 textile exhibition organized by her local chapter of Bondekvinnelaget (Rural Women’s Association). It was donated by Marie Skramstad DeForest.

LC0819.  This piece was originally part of De Sandvigske Samlinger Museum Collection (now called Maihaugen) in Lillehammer, Norway. It was sent as part of a large group of gifts from Norwegian museums to the Luther College Museum (now Vesterheim) to celebrate the centennial of Norwegian immigration in 1925.

This piece originally came to the U.S. from the Maihaugen Museum in Lillehammer, Norway.

Maihaugen still owns many examples of sprang; here are 17 pieces  still in the Maihaugen collection, as shown through the Norwegian Digital Museum.

These Vesterheim pieces are the ones that sparked Carol James’ book Sprang Patterns and Charts Inspired by Samples in the Collection of Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum. (Read more about the book in “Twist of Fate: Carol James’ Journey in Sprang.”

I still don’t know much about sprang, really, but I understand the concept more after trying Carol James’ short introductory video. I recommend it! I felt clumsy while manipulating just a few strands of yarn, and had to go back and begin again a few times, but isn’t that true of any new handcraft technique?

I have a ways to go before I can create a shirt or an art work with sprang, but it is fun to admire historical sprang and the work of contemporary artists. I hope you enjoy getting to know their work.

robbielafleur.com
Instagram: @robbie_lafleur
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

 

 

 

Book Review: Continuum by Solveig Aalberg

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By Molly Elkind

I’ve been weaving tapestry for over 10 years and teaching approaches to tapestry design for at least five years.  I’m always on the lookout for other tapestry weavers doing interesting contemporary work, to inform my own work and to share with other weavers.  I came across this blog post on the Textile Forum blog, about a body of work by Norwegian fiber artist, Solveig Aalberg, that I am excited to share. 

Aalberg has made a series of 100 small pieces that she calls “miniatures” which together form the series Continuum.  Each one measures about 20 x 24 cm, or roughly 7.75 x 9.5 inches.  Each features horizontal stripes in some form.  They are woven in tabby or double weave in a variety of fibers.  As she wove the series, Aalberg designed a book that reproduces every single piece, Continuum:  Woven Miniatures.  The book devotes a full page, or in some cases two pages, to each tapestry, and for each, the fibers and colors used are listed with a numerical notation that indicates the number of times each color is repeated.

Solveig Aalberg, Continuum #020, 2018.  Linen, cotton, polyester.

As I began to look through the book, I realized that far from becoming repetitious the project allowed for almost infinite variation within Aalberg’s parameters.  The idea that boundaries and limits actually free us up for greater creativity has been coming up in my tapestry feedback group discussions lately, and Aalberg’s project is a perfect example of how that can work.

Aalberg says in an interview included at the end of the book that her work is “all about reading the world around me by organizing structures and repetitions.  Tapestry’s strict framework of horizontal and vertical lines provides a basis for working on my visual idiom.  It might seem restrictive, but it is a challenge that triggers me.” (p. 260).  She goes on to say that systems and mathematics allow for rhythmic repetitions would not be possible otherwise:  “. . . structures build up contrasts and juxtapositions that you couldn’t envision beforehand without using these systems.” (p. 265).

While Aalberg’s work starts with weaving on the loom, she further develops each piece by adding stitching, sometimes subtle straight stitches that meld with the weft, other times wild loops and dangling threads that create a riot of texture on the back.  These pieces are pictured front and back on double-page spreads.  In all the pieces, a delight and curiosity about color is the driving force.

Solveig Aalberg, Continuum #036 back, 2020. Linen, cotton, polyester and reflex.

Solveig Aalberg, Continuum #036 front, 2020.  
Linen, cotton, polyester and reflex.

Aalberg has worked on a very large scale many times, but for this project she chose a format that invites the viewer to “experience the work up close” in an “intimate and personal” way (p. 264).  Many of us are attracted to small format work not only because it is portable and more quickly accomplished than large work, but precisely because it speaks one-on-one to the viewer.

Pieces from the Continuum series have been exhibited in various shows in Europe, and several have been sold.  Aalberg hopes that the works will be widely disseminated and that they can “thereby make a little statement about how everyday life is influenced by how we do the same thing again and again, but with either minor or major changes.  In that way, each miniature can be read as a metaphor for the days we live” (p. 267).

Solveig Aalberg, selections from Continuum at Haugesund Kunstforening og Billedgalleri, 2020.

Regarding her commitment to a long-term project over several years, Aalberg admits, “It does cost something to bring this about–that is also part of the process.  Showing tenacity, holding on to your idea, not letting go.  If I had abandoned Continuum, it would be like going back on a promise.  It would feel like a betrayal” (p. 267). This struck me–how often do we as artists lose heart, have crises of confidence, or simply bow to the ongoing pressures of life and abandon our big ideas?

Regarding the book itself, in addition to the interview with the artist, an essay by writer Ole Robert Sunde is included, whose work Aalberg feels draws on similar themes.  All text, including captions for the tapestries, appears in Norwegian and English.  Several installation shots of the work show how it is mounted approximately 4.5″ from the wall, so that it casts a shadow and attains a sculptural presence.  It is a beautifully photographed and produced hardcover book.  You can order it here for 380 Norwegian kroner, about $38 plus shipping.  For me this book is a wonderful counterpoint to Sheila Hicks’s Weaving as Metaphor, which contains images of dozens of her experimental minimes.  Both artists work in small format, but their approaches and results are very different.  Food for thought.

This review first appeared on Molly’s blog, https://mollyelkindtalkingtextiles.blogspot.com on October 12, 2022. 

https://mollyelkindtalkingtextiles.blogspot.com
Instagram: @mollyelkind
Molly Elkind earned an M.A. in Studio Art from the Hite Art Institute at the University of Louisville in 2002. Exhibition highlights include two solo shows in Atlanta (2009 and 2018)  and numerous juried and invitational shows nationwide.  Molly has been published in a number of fiber art-related publications, and her work is in several private collections.  Besides making art, Molly is passionate about teaching it, with a particular focus on design principles and processes.  She is based in Santa Fe, New Mexico and teaches both online and nationwide for guilds and conferences.  

Editor and author’s note: These images are screen shots from Aalberg’s book. The book images are of much higher quality. 

March 2023

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

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

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By Katherine Larson and Marta Kløve Juuhl

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

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

Go Big or Go Home – The Importance of Textile Width

By Katherine Larson

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

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

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

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

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

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

The initial study

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

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

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

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

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

The 2022 study

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Initial pattern weaving. From ATR No. 64

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Detail from Procession, 2019. Photo: K. Larson

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

Katherine Larson lives on Bainbridge Island, Washington. She has a doctorate from the University of Washington, where she is an affiliate faculty member in the Department of Scandinavian Studies, and she is the author of The Woven Coverlets of Norway.
Read the full academic article by Larson and Marta Kløve Juuhl from Archaeological Textiles Review:  “Norwegian double-cloth: warp-weighted loom experiments in a complicated technique”

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

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

Border from Procession. Photo: K. Larson

March 2023

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

Ryas at Sörmlands Museum

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By Elisabet Jansson

Editor’s note: These photos of charming older Swedish rya coverlets were originally published in Elisabet Jansson’s blog, Textila Inslag, on February 28, 2020, and shared here with the author’s permission. 

In Sörmland’s museum’s collections there are three old ryas. When we hear rya, we might think of rugs, but these ryas have never been used on the floor, but as coverlets. A little over 15 years ago, I looked at the ryas together with then domestic crafts consultant Lille-Mor Boman. A few days ago it was time again. A weaving colleague, Åsa Viksten Strömbom, and I had the opportunity to study the ryos together with home craft consultant Maria Neijman. A conservator was constantly in the background and made sure that the worn and fragile textiles were handled properly. We spent a couple of interesting hours with the old ryas. We have not decided if and how we will proceed after this visit, but something will surely happen.

Here are some brief notes about the three ryas.

The rya in the top and following photos was most likely used in a boat out on the Baltic Sea for overnight stays in connection with fishing. It is sewn together from three layers, with a width of approx. 83, 83 and 61 cm respectively (2’7”, 2’7”, and 2’). The bottom fabric is woven in equilateral twill and the pile knotts are embedded in the bottom in such a way that they are not visible on the smooth side. Where the pile is worn, you can see how they are distributed irregularly over the surface. Inventory number SLM 9210, look HERE.

The next rya is woven in two lengths in weft rib with a fairly regular pattern in brown, white and yellow between the rows of knots. The pile is largely worn out. Inventory number 3203, look HERE.

The third rya is woven in bound rosepath in several colors. Each side is different, and the right side of the rosepath is on the smooth side. There is no regular repetition of the rosepath borders.  The pattern in the two lengths match, except for one border on one of the edges. The pile knots build a pattern of gold and white squares. The inventory number is 3204, here.

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Instagram: @textilainslag

Elisabet Jansson lives in Eskilstuna. She weaves and embroiders, sometimes for a living but since she became a pensioner, often just for her own pleasure. When she isn’t weaving or embroidering, she dyes textiles, reads about textiles, looks at textiles, attends courses on textiles, or holds  courses on textiles. She shares all the elements of her textile life on her blog, Texstila Inslag.

[Editor’s note: this is one of my favorite blogs. I recommend it, even if you don’t speak Swedish. In particular, she posts many photos of wonderful textile works from Swedish museums and gallery shows.]

Translated by Robbie LaFleur, with help from Edi and Roland Thorstensson. Edi wrote an article about a Swedish rya in the Norwegian Textile Letter in 2014. See: “A Fabulous Find: A Rya from Ryd.” Also,  the article “Celebrate the Rye – or Rya – or Ryijy!” compiled all of the articles on rya that appeared in the Norwegian Textile Letter up to 2019.
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

To Seek Connections (Or Wanting to Know Where Things Come From)

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By Anne Karin Jortveit

Editor’s note: This essay is included on the website of the artist Liilian Saksi, featured in this issue, “Liilian Saksi: An Artist in Språngning.” Anne Karin Jortveit is an author, critic, and artist; two of her textile works are highlighted following her essay. 

«No other animal tends so thoroughly to become (for most of us) nothing but a signifier or blank page or resource unit. For it is surely the case that, despite their massive contribution to our lives – past and present – we think less of sheep than just about any other animal.» – Philip Armstrong

A few years ago I waited for the ferry that would take me from Hovedøya to Aker Brygge [across the bay to downtown Oslo]. It was early fall. The sheep, who had worked a summer job for the community, now wandered about freely, accustomed as they were to the flood of people on the island. The flock had gathered at the edge of the pier, as if they also waited for the boat, as if they also were ready to leave. I stood and talked with a friend when I suddenly felt a careful, almost friendly nudge in my side. One of the sheep had come close to us without our noticing. It seemed like it wanted to be scratched on the nose. For a moment I forgot myself, taken up as I was with the conversation, and immediately I felt that little nudge again. The rest of the time before the boat arrived this bold little animal received my full attention, and I went onboard with a new understanding. From then on my interest in wool developed a greater depth, all because of a confident sheep.

Sheep in Sweden. Photo: Liilian Saksi

People talk about whether we have entered the Human Age, the Anthropocene. The whole world is affected by what we humans, with the help of technology, have created. We use, misuse and consume at an escalating rate, and often at the cost of something or someone. This truth also intrudes on the work of artists. When considering those who utilize animal fibers, the use of wool, and the fact that it once belonged to a living entity, undeniably becomes part of a larger picture. In this day and age, it is difficult to pretend that there is no connection. Within the fibers one finds the connection between animals and people. Wool is like a door that opens on the living world and between species. How do we manage this gift from nature going forward? With respect and care for its source? Or is it primarily just the material itself that has worth for us? We seek out the quality of the raw wool we wish to use, but spare few thoughts for the sheep body on which the wool actually grew. The sheep then becomes a distant supplier, reduced to fiber type and sorting. But perhaps it is precisely in the Human Age that we now have the possibility to truly reflect on the missing link between our materials and their origins?

The arts are a place where this concept can unfold. In artistic circles, one no longer considers just the aesthetics but also the ethics. For more and more artists these two categories are joined. This is not always expressed in themes, but nonetheless emerges as a driving energy, like an underlying attitude in artistic choices. To work with art is to be an active participant in the world, to be sensitive to events and changes, and to know that what one does affects the use of resources and leaves footprints. At the same time, one’s own motivation can inspire others, and can reflect back an uplifting feeling of contribution in this larger context. Wool also connects artists to others who value fiber, and of course on a higher level, textiles concern us all.

Anne Karin Jortveit. Hesje [Hay rack]. Hayracks are built up from loose parts, and this work changes with each installation. The panels are woven with the artist’s entire “thread archive,” yarn from her first spinning course through recently-spun yarn, and hung over a framework made of copper pipes. 363 x 103 x 44 cm. (11.75′ x 3.4′ x 1.4′)

Our familiarity with wool has very long timelines, one enters a handcraft relationship with roots that stretch back several thousand years. Sheep were among the first farm animals to be domesticated. Just in Norway they have been present for around 6,000 years. Wool is connected to survival itself, and before we learned to spin and weave we made felt, itself the original textile. Wool fiber’s unique characteristics have seen humanity through harsh winters and difficult weather. Wool breathes, provides insulation and draws dampness away from the body. It is flame resistant and dirt repellant. We have protected ourselves with it, and we have adorned ourselves with it. We have enfolded it in myths and stories. It’s no wonder that wool has been highly valued throughout history, often being considered more important than meat. As the respected felt maker Claudy Jongstra puts it: “Nature is so clever; the fibres are constructed so ingeniously that it intrigues me. To this day, we’ve been unable to make a fibre that combines the same characteristics and qualities. I think that’s unbelievable. I deeply respect that.”

Even when artists use spinning or felting in projects that do not have a practical use, an echo of wool’s contribution to life’s necessities and life’s pleasures is felt through mere contact with and manipulation of the material. Today wool is a byproduct of sheep raising, but fortunately some things are in the process of changing. It blossoms forth in the handcraft milieu, it is incorporated into artistic thinking, it enters into the design process. Even the handcraft enthusiast wants more than to knit with purchased yarn. It is about wanting to know. People seek out and bring forth tools, techniques and insights that have had changing and sometimes low status in our recent past. It is as if we want to assure ourselves that this knowledge is not lost, now that these skills are no longer passed seamlessly from one generation to the next. Most important of all, it is about taking care of and guarding the diversity of the surrounding landscape. This also raises questions about values, both material and existential, and between humans and animals. 

Sheep in Sweden. Photo: Liilian Saksi

As I finish writing this, I look over at Molly, my dog, where she lies curled up between the pillows on the sofa. She also has met the sheep on Hovedøya. On one of our trips we suddenly stood face to face with the whole flock. One sheep decided to take a step forward. I held the dog leash firmly, a little anxious. Both animals neared each other and finally stood nose to nose. When the other sheep saw that this was not a dangerous animal, they also came forward. I stood on the sidelines, touched as I observed what happened. Perhaps this was the same year as my own meeting on the pier. Perhaps it was even the same sheep that was seeking contact. 

«…to understand other living things, their environmental conditions, and their ecological relationships in such a way as to awake in us a deep sense of our kinships with them as fellow members of the Earth’s community of life.».  Paul W. Taylor

www.annekarinjortveit.no
Translated in February, 2023, by Katherine Larson, Affiliate Assistant Professor,
Department of Scandinavian Studies, University of Washington, Seattle
Anne Karin Jortveit is and artist and writer who lives in Ås, Norway. She works in Ås and Oslo, with a studio on Hovedøya. She works three-dimensionally with textiles and recent years has immersed herself in handspinning, weaving and plant dyeing. These pieces by Jortveit are on her website, only two of many compelling installations.

Anne Karin Jortveit. Sørgen’s Signatur (Sorrow’s Signature), 2022. Rug hooking on fabric with hand-spun wool thread (187 x 143 x 5 cm).

Jortveit wrote about Sorrow’s Signature: When I cleared out my father’s personal belongings, I found a paper with the words “Astrid Died January 15.” My father had become very forgetful. He no longer remembered details of the recent past, such as dates, so he had written down the death date of my mother, his wife.

​This little note was perhaps a kind of anchor. He himself died half a year later.

​This is not intended to be a private work. The name and date are interchangeable.
This simple, raw and bare sentence also contains a shared experience.
Regardless of time, place and circumstances.

Anne Karin Jortveit. 11,2 kilo (11.2. Kilos), 2004.

This weaving consists of clothes from my wardrobe, clothes I acquired but rarely used.
This weaving is a picture of one year’s discards.

In 1998, each and every one of us threw away 11.2 kilograms of textiles and clothing.
When I began this project, I had access to statistics from 1998; therefore this piece weighs 11.2 kilograms .

In 1998, discards were distributed as follows: 68% was sent to the dump; 16% was burned; 7% was reused or recycled, mostly to the Third World and Eastern Europe; 19% had never been used.

Traditionally, rag rugs were the final use of textiles. When clothes could longer be repaired, they ended up here, under our feet, the place where we leave traces of dust, dirt and sweat. This is a rag rug for today. I could wear all the clothes in this weaving and still be well dressed. None of the clothes came close to being called rags. I just got “tired of them.”

Afterword: ​This text was from 2005. In 2013, I checked the numbers again and read that each one of us threw away around 24 kilos of textiles a year. That would have become quite a weaving.

[Editor’s note: Textile discards are not improving. According to figures published by the Boston University School of Public Health, Americans discard more than 45 kilos (100 pounds) of textiles per year. The figure is based on the most recent year of EPA statistics available, 2018. See “The Aftermath of Fast Fashion: How Discarded Clothes Impact Public Health and the Environment.“]

March 2023

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

Nordic News and Notes: Lectures

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Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum Webinars

Exploring Sami Coastal Handcraft, with Hege Nilsen. Sunday, June 4, 2023. 1:00-2:00 pm CT. Cost: Free

Join folk artist and culture-bearer Hege Nilsen for a conversation exploring the traditional handcraft of the Coastal Sámi. From leatherwork, to pewter thread braiding and embroidery, to mica embellishments, you will learn about the folk art still made by this segment of Scandinavia’s indigenous people.

 

 

 

 

Natural Dyeing: Historical Handcraft as a Living Art, with Lesley Darling. Saturday, June 10, 2023.  1:00-2:00 pm CT. Cost: free 

Has the growing popularity of natural dyes made you curious about the process? Join textile artist and educator Lesley Darling for a webinar on the history of natural dyes across cultures, ideas to start saving your own dyes, and how you can learn more about the process. Lesley will also talk about how plant based dyes are making waves across the planet, from fashion labels and Nordic traditions to naturally dyeing dresses for an internationally celebrated drag artist.

The Mystery of the Missing Swans and Maidens: A Frida Hansen Tapestry Tale with Robbie LaFleur (Originally aired on April 2; now on the Vesterheim YouTube channel)

Back in 1903, Norwegian-born socialite and tapestry teacher Berthea Aske Bergh was determined to show Americans the brilliance of Norwegian billedvev, or tapestry. She traveled back to Norway and purchased Sørover (Southward), a tapestry of swans and maidens with shimmering threads from the famous Art Nouveau artist Frida Hansen.

Southward was an important, often-displayed monumental tapestry, so when the curators for the blockbuster show, Scandinavian Design in the United States, 1890-1980, sought key textiles, Frida Hansen’s tapestry was top of mind. But where was this 11 x 10 foot weaving now? Only a few grainy black-and-white photos and many glowing descriptions remained.

In January 2021, nearly 90 years after Southward was last displayed publicly, noted rug dealer Peter Pap opened a Tupperware container in a storage building in Maine. He unfolded a woven treasure in dusty, but pristine condition, and with a quick google search, he learned it was a long-lost Frida Hansen tapestry.

The veil of mystery, as well as the dust of decades, has been removed from Southward. The Frida Hansen masterpiece was restored to the world in time to add to the Scandinavian Designexhibit during its recent run at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and at the Milwaukee Museum of Art, showing March 24-July 23, 2023.

Join Robbie LaFleur for this timely webinar to celebrate the life and work of Frida Hansen and, especially, to hear about the Southward tapestry mystery as it unfolded.

Lecture on Swedish Folk Art in Duluth

“Tulips and Roses,” with Ulla-Karin Warberg. April 18, 2023, 6 pm at the University of Minnesota Duluth Solon Campus Center, Room 120 — AND — April 19, 2023, 1:30 pm at the Nordic Center, Duluth. (pdf poster here)

“Tulips and Roses,” by Ulla-Karin Warberg, is an exposé about Swedish Folk Art and its pattern traditions. She will use the folk art patterns as a starting point to show how they were adapted and used in different parts of Sweden. Learn how vernacular art was influenced by economics and geography. Observe older paintings and watercolors from the permanent collection of Stockholm’s Nordiska Museet. See works that show farmsteads, painted furniture, textiles, betrothal gifts, paintings and minor handicrafts.

Ulla-Karin Warberg is a curator at the Nordiska Museet in Stockholm and a lecturer at Uppsala University in Sweden. She has curated numerous exhibitions and has a distinguished publication record. She has also presented gallery lectures to UMD students as part of the Nordic Art and Design Study Abroad program.

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

 

Mendable: An Exhibit and Environmental Investigation

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Norske Kunsthåndverkere (The Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts, referred to as NK) is a membership organization working to promote and support Norwegian contemporary craft artists nationally and internationally.

NK has a current membership of more than 1000 professional artists and makers in a range of media from all of Norway. The group arranges an annual exhibit, the Arsutstillingen;  sponsors thematic exhibits around Norway; publishes a magazine, Kunsthåndverk; administers art grants; and works to influence art policies.

NK runs two galleries – Format  in Oslo and KRAFT  in Bergen. Another arm is Norwegian Crafts, a non-profit organization funded by the Norwegian Ministry of Culture and Equality and the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) that aims to strengthen the international position of contemporary crafts from Norway.

NK arranges thematic exhibits in various areas of Norway, and the themes are chosen by one of the seven regions that are part of the association. In 2020 the Norske Kunsthåndverkere regional group in Viken worked with NK on the juried exhibit “MENDABLE—Climate and Environment in Today’s Art Practice.” The jury and project group included Margrethe Loe Elde, Barbro Hernes, Svein Ove Kirkhorn and the project leader Ann Kristin Aas. 16 artists were chosen for the exhibit at the House of Foundation in Moss, August 29-October 11, 2020.

[Editors note: NK includes artists working in a variety of media. For the Norwegian Textile Letter, we focus on the artists working in fiber-related materials. You can see the full list of artists here. You can watch a Facebook video of many of the artists here. The following general description and the entries about the fiber artists are taken from the NK website.]

The Mendable Exhibit, 2020

We posed the question of how artists take a position on climate and environmental questions in today’s material-based art. We wanted to know about how the choice of materials, technique, content and expression in art were affected by thoughts of, or consideration of the environment. In the exhibition MENDABLE, we wanted to investigate how environmental activism is present in fine craft, and how the artists reflect on creating works of art in a world that is already full of things.

The title MENDABLE indicates something that can be repaired, both in a physical sense, but also as repair of a relationship or improvement of a situation. The artists in the exhibit seek relevant ways to express their unease with the climate situation through their work. They seek to help us find deeper understanding and insight through varying forms of expression and artistic methods. In this lies a hope that something can be done about the situation, that it is possible to repair something destroyed, and that it is possible to change and improve our way of living in the world. 

The artists pose questions around overproduction, overconsumption, and the exploitation of natural resources. What are the consequences for nature, and for us? Several of the artists use a working process that is close to nature to explore these questions. Many gather the raw materials themselves, like clay, wood, resin, and plants, directly from nature. Recycling and manual work are strong aspects of the artists’ works. Reworking found materials, building step by step, sewing stitch by stitch, repairing, unraveling, whittling, and weaving create room for reflection and new realizations—a method to find a deeper understanding of nature and the world around us. 

Eline Medbøe   |  I FIND SHELTER IN OUR REMAINS

It is strange that something that is so woven into our daily lives and our personalities is something that, at the same time, we respect so little. We throw away enormous amounts of completely usable clothing every year. Clothes are consumer products where the prices are out of line with the human and environmental resources used to produce them. By using recycled materials like cast-off clothing in my work I try to comment on us and the times in which we live. I sew my works with repetitive hand stitches  and I am concerned with the actions I take while I transform the textiles. There is something ruthless and brutal in sewing into a skirt, a pretty piece of clothing that someone has worn next to their skin. I hope the viewers of my work will become more conscious of their own relationship to clothing, and the value of the materials we toss away so easily. 

Eline Medbøe, ” I Find Shelter in our Remains.” Source: NK website: https://norskekunsthandverkere.no/users/eline-medboe. See the site for additional photos.

www.elinem.no
Instagram: @elinemed
Video: “Interview with Elina Medbøe”

Kristina D. Aas  |   UNWEAVING

With my “Unweaving” project, I reflect on the production of art at a time we are swimming in products. We don’t understand how things are made, what they are made of, who makes them, nor where the makers are. When these layers of knowledge are erased, one begins to ask questions about the meaning of making art or crafts. I am trying to answer the question for myself, and in dialog with the public by the dismantling of work I have used several months to create. 

Photo: Karina Nøkleby Presttun

Source: Kristina Austi website: https://austikristina.com/upcoming-exhibitions/2020/8/29/mendable

https://austikristina.com [Editor’s note: The artist’s name is now Kristina Austi.]
Instagram: @austikristina

Karina Presttun Nøkleby   |   RUBIN

I began to investigate wood shavings as a possible method to stiffen textiles because a friend who creates frames of recycled materials had a sack of shavings. Great, I thought. Free, locally produced and environmentally friendly. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work out as I intended, but worked out as something completely different. I think this happens continuously; in attempting to do something “a little more climate-friendly,” possibilities pop up, disguised as restrictions.

Rubin

“Rubin,” by Karina Presttun Nøkleby. Photo: Eivind Senneset. More photos are on the artist’s website: http://www.karinapresttun.no/portfolio_page/rubin-2019/

http://www.karinapresttun.no/contact/

Kristin Sæterdal   |   SPACE DEBRIS

“Space junk is waste and discarded or lost objects from human activity in space. Most are in orbit around the Earth in or close to the original orbit they were put in.” Wikipedia. The European Space Agency ESA monitors 20,000 objects that, among other things, monitor global warming and other environmental issues. The agency sends out alerts to satellites so they can be maneuvered manually to avoid collisions. In the event of a collision, even a small nut can cause major damage.

“Space Debris” by Kristin Sæterdal. Source: Mendable exhibition catalog.

kristinsæterdal.com
Instagram: @tinsapus
Video on the weaving of Space Debris

These are only a few of the talented artists working in textiles that are part of Norske Kunsthåndverkere. From this page listing all the artists, you can choose among materials used, including tekstil. There are other catalogs to download from thematic exhibits and the annual exhibition, Årsutstillingen, on the NK website page, “Fagstoff.” Many are in English.

March 2023

Liilian Saksi: An Artist in Språngning

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By Liilian Saksi

Editor’s note: Liilian Saksi lives and works in Skotterud, in rural eastern Norway. She attended the Oslo National Academy of the Arts (master’s degree, 2017). She was born in Norrköping, Sweden, so she uses the Swedish word, språngning, for the technique known in Norway and the U.S. as sprang.

The Core of my Artistic Practice

My works start with wool as the raw material, and they become textile surfaces mounted on walls or free-standing sculptures. They function as variations on consistent themes: interaction with the material and the interplay of color.

Liilian Saksi: “Förnimmelser av förtrolighet” (“Perception of Trust”), Kongsvinger kunstforening 2022, Photo: Thomas Tveter

My primary interest lies in the optical perception of color we experience. I often work with shades that have an equal value, so that a kind of flicker or friction occurs. I work largely according to self-defined limitations and then allow the work to change, sometimes intuitively and sometimes systematically.  The work process begins when the wool is cut, continues through spinning and dyeing, and finally constructing a textile surface through the twining technique språngning [sprang].

Liilian Saksi: “Variationer av ungefärliga komplementärer (orange och turkos, 5+6) [“Variations of Approximate Complements (orange and turquoise, 5 + 6)], 2021, Photo: Thomas Tveter

I work with my own flock of sheep at home on the farm and at my parents’ house. Rooting the work in a specific place and life situation, and not least in my relationship with the sheep, springs from my interest in the human relationship with other species. I am interested in how daily contact with animals affects us psychologically, but also in our conflicting attitudes towards different groups of animals and the animal’s intrinsic value.

Working with Wool

Animals. I have always been very interested in our relationship with animals. I look partly with a broad evolution perspective — how we as a species began to domesticate other species and breed them, and how society has developed into what it is today, with rather grotesque differences in life and status between, for example, farm animals and pets.

My home flock: Salme, Alli, Majlis and Lea – all are Gammelnorsk Spælsau sheep. Photo: Liilian Saksi

This is closely related to what it means to work with wool. Wool production is a giant industry with terrible living conditions for the sheep in many places. My sheep and I live in a rather secluded situation. We have our own cycle, an existence without the production of lambs for slaughter. The sheep I have live a whole life. It sounds romantic, and it is, but at the same time having a working farm and producing our own hay can be physically hard. Life and art go hand in hand.

But really, perhaps the motivation is primarily personal – as for many others, having close and happy daily contact with animals, preferably pets, has a lot to say for my well-being. It keeps me in the moment.

Color. Wool as a material is fantastic. Apart from the usual qualities people describe, I love how it renders colour. It both radiates at the same time as it takes the viewer into the material, it has a shine and a depth in it. That wool is easy to dye, and not least of all relatively easy to shape by felting or spinning, of course makes it even better. In my case that is essential as the dyeing and spinning are what take up the most time during my work process. It needs to be work that is fun and manageable. It is important to have parts of my work that do not require a lot of thinking – it allows me to work a lot and energetically. Sitting and spinning is a kind of relaxation, but also a process that promotes mental activity, a bit like jogging. Being physically busy often allows for very clear thoughts or ideas, and sometimes solutions.

Spinning the wool of Sheila, of the Klövsjöfår breed,  while living at my parents’ farm in Sweden.

By working with a traditional material and the most basic textile techniques I experience greater motivation. It is almost dizzying for me to think how for millennia people have sat and worked like me – of course with a less modern spindle, and under completely different circumstances and living conditions. But still, it makes me feel a kind of connection.

My Interest in Sprang

My artistic training began with weaving, and in a way I have always been interested in textile structures and connections. But I found that the complicated weaving structures became too technical for me and made me lose touch with the material. When I started spinning yarn during my MFA, I was looking for a technique that was airy so that the shape and character of the yarn could come through, where the yarn itself could have prominence within the work.

Liilian Saksi: “Förnimmelser av förtrolighet” (“Perception of Trust”), Kongsvinger kunstforening 2022. The detail photo shows my emphasis on the qualities of the yarn. Photo: Thomas Tveter

I found språngning quite casually on the internet, after watching many online videos.  I learned språngning via YouTube. Pretty quickly I got hooked on the interlaced binding because it has such a clear direction diagonally in the work. I like the idea of it being a line for the material throughout the work, it adds a kind of movement. The thread is interlaced so that it moves to the right and left for each turn.

 

In the process of sprang, with yarn spun from the fleeces of Frida, Lovikka, and Anni, 2022.

The textile surface is perceived as woven, but with the difference that the threads cross each other on the diagonal and that it is a continuous line, compared to warp and weft. In recent years I have focused on the interlaced binding and worked with color compositions within it. The seemingly small variations in the distribution of threads in the warp give clear results in the composition. By concentrating on a fixed, pre-determined format I can work my way up to precision in controlling, for example, when and how many times the colors in different color fields meet each other, within a grid pattern.

Liilian Saksi: “Dansande orange (Anni, Hilma, Lovikka, Torka)” (“Dancing Orange,” Anni, Hilma, Lovikka, Torka) at the group show “En katt bland hermeliner” (“A Cat Among Ermines”), Konstakademien Stockholm, 2022. Photo: Björn Strömfeldt

For future work in Språngning, I see great potential to bring in two other variations: a twisting technique and a chaining technique, especially the chaining that is braided in zigzag, back and forth, constructing an elastic textile that becomes tight in a relaxed state.

There are so many possibilities with språngning, and I think I’m going to explore this technique for many years to come. I plan to have a larger flock of sheep over time. I will work with individual sheep on my own farm, something that can clarify and demonstrate the core of my artistic practice – closeness to both the animals and materials they provide..

Liilian Saksi, February 2023 
www.liiliansaksi.com
Instagram: @liiliansaksi
liilian.saksi@gmail.com

Liilian Saksi recently finished a public commission for Ila prison and Detention Center, Oslo, through the Norwegian public art program, KORO, and has an upcoming commission at Dragvoll Helse- og Velferdssenter, Trondheim (2025). 

Her works are scheduled for several upcoming exhibits:
Hovedøya Kunstsal, Oslo, August 2023. A group exhibition of textile artists in dialogue, arranged by Ingrid Aarvik Berge and Thea Urdal. The artists are Kari Steihaug/Sebastian Rusten, Anne Stabell/Ingrid A. Berge, and Brit Fuglevaag/Liilian Saksi.
KRAFT Bergen, Solo exhibition, January 2024.
Kunstnerforbundet Oslo, Solo exhibition, 2025.

Nordic Notes: Happy 2023

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Scandinavian Textiles Zoom Lectures

Rug and Textile Appreciation Morning: Swedish Textiles From 1680 to 1850. Saturday, February 11, 1 p.m. Presented by the Textile Museum at George Washington University.

From the description: “Collector Gunnar Nilsson will explore Swedish textiles, starting with better-known types such as “röllakan,” embroideries and Flemish weaves. He will also introduce some of the lesser-known types that never come up in foreign auctions or major Swedish sales. While many in this group are of middling or low quality, there are a few outstanding examples that can easily compete with the best Flemish-weave and röllakan works. This program is a partnership with the New England Rug Society and The Textile Museum Associates of Southern California.” Register here. 

From the George Washington University Museum website: Carriage cushion made with the “röllakan” technique (detail); Sweden, southwestern Skåne, Skytts härad; 1780.

Stories from the Textile Program at Sätergläntan with Johanna Runbäck and Susana Ayton. Friday, February 17, 2023, 12 pm-1pm CST. Presented by the American Swedish Institute and North House Folk School. 

This webinar features lead instructors from Sätergläntan Institute for Craft, located in Dalarna, Sweden, a sister school to North House Folk School in Grand Marais, Minnesota. You will learn about the three year program of study at this venerable institution, celebrating 100 years of traditional craft education in 2023. Johanna Runbäck and Susana Ayton will be guest instructors at North House in June 2023. Register for the webinar at this link.

Photo from the North House page listing the courses from Sätergläntan visiting instructors, June 2023

Zoom Lecture and Sale of Scandinavian Weavings

Lecture: Warmth and Color: Traditional Scandinavian Coverlets. Sponsored by the Textile Center of Minnesota as part of “Fiber Art of All” week. Speaker: Laurann Gilbertson, Chief Curator of Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum. Friday, Feb. 21, 11 am CST. 

In Scandinavia, woven textiles covered beds and cushions, brightened walls, and played roles during baptism, weddings, and funerals. The textiles came to America with the immigrants and have helped Americans build and maintain links to their ethnic roots. After a review of some of the different types of Norwegian woven coverlets and their uses, Gilbertson will share examples from the colorful textile collection of Carol Oversvee Johnson, which will be on display and for sale in Rooms 4 and 5 at the Textile Center of Minnesota during the week.

Laurann Gilbertson holds a BA in Anthropology and an MS in Textiles & Clothing, both from Iowa State University. She was Textile Curator at Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum in Decorah, Iowa, for 19 years and is now the Chief Curator there. Among her duties are overseeing the collection of more than 30,000 artifacts, creating exhibitions, and leading Textile Study Tours to Norway.

Virtual Lecture: “Somewhere in America: The Story of Petra’s Quilt.” By Katherine Larson. Saturday, February 25, 2023, 1 pm-2 pm CST. 

On a recent trip to north Norway, Katherine was shown a beautifully embroidered crazy quilt that had traveled far from the hands of its maker. It was made in the early 1900s, a gift sent to Norway by a woman who had emigrated over 25 years earlier. The seamstress, Petrine Almli, embroidered her name into the quilt, as well as the names of many family members on both sides of the Atlantic, a testimony in stitches to the ties that bind a family together. But time and distance eventually dimmed those memories, and while the quilt was carefully preserved through the years (and finally found its way into a museum collection), the family members in Norway no longer remembered its story.

Where did the quilt come from? Katherine accepted the challenge to find the woman who sewed this quilt. Piece by piece, the story of Petrine and her family emerged: a small chapter in the immigrant experience that began over a century ago with the efforts of a woman and her embroidery needle. Register here:

Katherine Larson is an affiliate faculty member at the University of Washington, Department of Scandinavian Studies. She became interested in textiles during an undergraduate year at a Norwegian folk high school, an experience that inspired her life long interest in textile history and the textile history of Norway. Katherine holds a Ph.D. from the University of Washington, and has curated several exhibitions documenting Scandinavian textile traditions. She is the author or “The Woven Coverlets of Norway” (2001). She and her husband live on a small farm in Bainbridge Island near Seattle.

(quilt block photo courtesy of the Vefsyn Museum in Norway)

A Viking Era Varafeldur — Miniature Edition

The spring 2023 issue of the magazine Little Looms features an article on making a small wall-piece varafeldur. You normally see much larger woven versions, but the small size is also appealing, as it focuses intently on the beauty of the long locks. Read their teaser article on the project: “Weaving History: The Varafeldur (Learn the history of the Icelandic varafeldur and its links to Vikings and royalty“).

If the tiny varafeldur piques your interest to see more, read “Varafeldur: An Icelandic Rya Reconstruction” by Marta Kløve Juuhl (Norwegian Textile Letter, November 2013) or this blog post about my experimentation, “Finally, the Varafeldur is off the Warp-Weighted Loom” (December 1, 2017).

Kari Steihaug Book

Evocative embroidery filled the galleries at the Galleri Dropsfabrikken in Trondheim from October 29-November 22, 2022, in Kari Steihaug – Potetbøtta og parfymen [Kari Steihaug: Potato Buckets and Perfume]. Missed the exhibit? You can purchase the lovely book here (with free shipping to the US).

In the Market for New Shoes?

Scandinavian fiber fans might appreciate boots made from Norwegian wool from Alfa Sko (Alfa Shoes).  See: “Wool: Ancient yet Cutting Edge.”

The caption for this photo from the Alfa Sko website is “Norwegian Wool is World Class”

Thank you to everyone who helps support the Norwegian Textile Letter with donations to cover expenses. Your donations matter. Thank you for being a subscriber! 

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2023 will be a great year for the newsletter; many new articles, translations, and book reviews are in the works. There is never a lack of inspiring material when covering historical and contemporary Scandinavian textiles.

Robbie LaFleur, Publisher