Archives

Nordic Notes, May 2021

Video

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

Exhibition Catalog

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

Interview

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

A Connection to Frida Hansen in St. Louis?

By Jane Olson Glidden

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

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

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

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

Transparent Tapestry, Elsie Siroky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weaving Bewitchment: Gerhard Munthe’s Folk-Tale Tapestries

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

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

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

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

The authors solve the mystery. 

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

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

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

By Robbie LaFleur 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marit Wang

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

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

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

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

Brit Anni and her granddaughter

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

 

A bunad generations in the making…

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

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

 

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

By Carol Colburn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Norwegian Tapestry: Historical Weaving Treasures and National Romantic Impulses

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

Our oldest pictorial textiles

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

Snartemo, Evebø, Oseberg and Överhogdal

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

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

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

 Baldishol

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

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

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

A flourishing in the art of weaving

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

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

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

A burst of new life in Norwegian Weaving

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

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

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

Historical Tapestries in New Editions

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

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

Miss Augustas dyeing method

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

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

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

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

The Handcraft Association’s Dye Studio

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

Fine artists create tapestry 

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

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

To Drown in wool

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

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

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

Guard-hair yarn appears, a gain for textile art

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

Crucial educators, real-life Valkyries

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

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

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

Women’s mastery of spinning techniques

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

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

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

A Golden Time for Lustrous Weaving 

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

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

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

Soft wool and Synthetic Dyeing

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

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

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

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

From Foremothers to modern gods and heroines

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

Cooperation, fertilization and renewal

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

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

The Golden egg

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

The spirit of contemporary times and sheep from an ancient time

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

Rulebreakers lead to new use of our old sheep 

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

Working out dyeing and spinning puzzles

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

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

Investigations during the difficult war years 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Book Review] Gerhard Munthe: Norwegian Pioneer of Modernism

By Sally Reckert

Gerhard Munthe: Norwegian Pioneer of Modernism
Jan Kokkin (translated by Arlyne Moi)
Arnoldsche Art Publishers (Stuttgart), 2018
296 pp.; 48 colour and 200 b&w illus.; bibliography; index of names.

Everyone interested in European Art Nouveau should add Jan Kokkin’s richly illustrated book Gerhard Munthe: Norwegian Pioneer of Modernism to their library. Arnoldsche published both the Norwegian and English editions of the book in 2018 to accompany the most comprehensive exhibition of Munthe’s work since 1917 (Nasjonalmuseet, Oslo, Norway).

Gerhard Munthe (1849–1929) significantly contributed to Art Nouveau’s international diversity. His radical, abstract style, partly based on old Norwegian folk art, evolved at a time when artifacts were mostly imported into Norway from Scandinavia and Europe. 

Norway was last an independent state in the fourteenth century and only regained independence in 1907, more than half-way through Munthe’s life. Like many artists and writers of newly emerged nations, he saw a need to imbue the nation with a cultural identity of its own: “Munthe’s work is an essential part of our true national development…because it seeks to build our self-esteem from within and not from outside.” (Gerhard Gran in Samtiden, 1895).

Sketches, patterns and Munthe’s finished artworks, translated into the manufactured arts for which he designed them, illustrate every page of Kokkin’s book. It is particularly interesting to see contemporary photographs of Munthe’s interior designs. Although these works are now lost we can get a glimpse of his intention to surround Norwegians with artifacts in their domestic and public lives that were wholly made in Norway by Norwegians for Norwegians.

Like many Art Nouveau artists, Munthe wrote about his theories of style in decoration, not to go forwards but to develop a national Norwegian cultural character.

Small Trout and Marsh Marigolds. Nasjonalmuseet, Oslo

Nature was his starting point; he’d trained in the Naturalist school of painting, continuing to paint the Norwegian landscape throughout his life. Examples include trout swimming amongst marsh marigolds for wallpaper (1891), a watercolour of blue goats frolicking amongst pine branches (1891), and blue anemones on porcelain dinner services (nd). Munthe also stylised and blended nature with traditional motifs from folk work and art history. “I had to dig into the past… beyond Peasant Rococo and Gothic style of the Bronze Age. I felt that was the most Norwegian… I was also helped by the Assyrian and Egyptian styles and in this way ended up with a rhythmic style I used in Snorre and in the fairy tales.”

Kokkin focuses in particular on Munthe’s Fairytale watercolours and his illustrations for the prose Edda of Snorri Sturluson (Icelandic, 13th century), one of the richest sources of Norse mythology; and the late medieval visionary poem Draumkvedet or ‘Dream Ballad’. 

For readers outside Norway Munthe is perhaps best known for the tapestries based on the Fairytale watercolours, for example: The Golden Birds, 1899; The Three Brothers, 1902; and The Yellow Hair, 1903. Unlike his contemporary, Frida Hansen, he never wove tapestries himself. However, copies of patterns based on the watercolours were much sought after, something Munthe disliked: “All work which is based on copying will always be less clear and poorer – and I cannot take responsibility for that”. He used only a handful of trusted weavers,including his wife Sigrun, Frida Hansen, Augusta Christensen (The Suitors, 1897 [displayed on the book cover]; The Blood Tower, 1902) and Kristine Johannessen (The Bewitched, 1898). He gave them precise instructions to use only coarse, hard yarn to show line clearly, artificial dyes for strength of typical Norwegian colours, and flat, shadowless planes and contours. Ulrike Greve (The Wise Bird, 1903) wrote of the difficulties novice weavers faced: “There were two particular ways in which we sinned badly against Munthe’s drawings. We did not know that colour values in a watercolour change when the size increases exponentially, and we did not sense the difference in quality when the same colour was painted in watercolour and when it was woven… Goodness, how these tapestries became heavy and saturated.”

“The Three Brothers.” Version owned by Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum.

Categorising Kokkin’s book is not easy, which begs the question: Who is the English edition aimed at? Kokkin selects images from Munthe’s work to understand his theories on style and the abstraction of nature into decorative design. At the same time, the book is also a comprehensive catalogue of Munthe’s artistic work. For an English reader, it is a distinct disadvantage not to have a general index to cross-reference and link the plethora of unfamiliar names with works, places and ideas of Munthe and his contemporaries.

Munthe’s designs were successful in early 20th century Norway and were applied across a wide range of manufactured objects: tapestries, porcelains, furniture, tableware, wallpaper, book illustrations, building interiors and monuments. “The intrepid freshness in the colours is unified in his drawings in a very expressive line, dominated by a purity in style that now and then leads towards strictness, such as one can see in the twelve watercolours that are now on show at the Libre Esthétique.” (Alfred Jarry in La Revue Blanche, 1902). For Munthe style was a language to be learned and used to create fresh designs.

It’s a pity that the one form that brings all these ideas into a whole work – interior design – now only survives through black and white photographs; for example, the Fairy-Tale Room in Holmenkollen Turisthotell (1896–98), which burned in 1914.  Oslo Håkonshallen (1910–15) in Bergen was referred to in the paper Tidens Tegn as “an attraction that will forever testify to Munthe’s unique contribution to Norwegian decorative art.” That interior was destroyed by bombs in 1944.

Håkonshallen in Bergen. Photo: Nasjonalmuseet, Oslo

Kokkin reluctantly concludes in his last chapter, ‘Legacy’, that: “Despite influencing Norwegian and foreign artists and poets with his pioneering decorative art, Gerhard Munthe had few followers. His work was too idiosyncratic for such an outcome.”

Jan Kokkin’s book Gerhard Munthe: Norwegian Pioneer of Modernism will appeal to everyone interested in the 19th/20th century Arts and Crafts period in Northern Europe, from William Morris and the Pre-Raphaelites through Jugenstil to Art Nouveau.

Sally Reckert is an avid tapestry weaver who lives in Richmond, Yorkshire, England. She is a member of the British Tapestry Group and recent editor of its magazine, Tapestry Weaver