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Dipping Into Carol Johnson’s Tapestry Collection

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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

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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

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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!