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More Handmade Underwear: From Norway to the Dakotas to Vesterheim

Editor’s Note: The article about historical underwear reminded me of another set of Norwegian underwear I’ve seen. The Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum owns a pristine set of handwoven long underwear, by way of a Norwegian mother concerned about cold Midwestern winters. Robbie LaFleur

Vesterheim Curator Laurann Gilbertson wrote:

The long underwear belonged to Nikolai Knudson Farestveit (1899-1980) of Modalen, Hordaland, Norway. His brother Knut was the first in family to come to the U.S., and farmed in western North Dakota. Nikolai (Nick) worked in an orphanage in Norway and heard that Knut had done well, so he immigrated in 1923. He worked as a farm hand near Beresford, South Dakota, then as a finish carpenter in Grand Forks and Northwood, North Dakota. Nick’s mother, Anna Helland Farestveit, made the long underwear for him to pack in 1923. She carded and spun the wool, wove the fabric, and sewed the garments. According to Nick’s daughter, he could not tolerate wool next to his skin, so the long underwear are barely worn. (Gift of Carl and Arlene Farestvedt Evanson, Vesterheim – 2010.026.001)

Inspired by the Baldishol Tapestry

The previous issue of The Norwegian Textile Letter included articles on the Baldishol Tapestry and a Call for Art for the exhibit of Baldishol-inspired textile works to be held at Norway House in Minneapolis, Minnesota, beginning in June, 2020. 

The Baldishol: A Medieval Norwegian Tapestry Inspires Contemporary Textiles

 June 26-August 30, 2020
Norway House, Minneapolis, Minnesota
Opening Party: Friday, June 26, 2020, 5-8 pm 

There is Still Room for Your Creativity

The response to the Call for Art has been outstanding; nearly 20 entries have been accepted–from the U.S., Canada, and England so far–all with thoughtful interpretation based on the theme, design elements, colors, or technique of the original.  

Consider creating a piece for this show; space is available for up to 35 Baldishol-inspired works. Registration is open until December, or until the space if filled. 

A Few Examples of Work Underway

Garment-maker and Quilter Laurie Bushbaum is creating an appliquéd and quilted coat inspired by the April man, a seed bearer. Look for transformed vines and flowers from the Baldishol Tapestry, medieval text, and even pockets to bear future seeds. Deborah Lawson was also inspired by the tunic of the April man, and will be re-creating his bell-sleeved tunic in hand-woven silk, with tablet-woven edges in a design that echos the border of the Baldishol Tapestry. She wrote, “I am attempting to replicate the feel of the original tunic while using modern sensibilities to expand on it.”   

Deborah Lawson has started dyeing silk for her Baldishol exhibit piece

Do you see the spots on the Baldishol horse?  They will appear again on wide stripes in shades of indigo in a wool rug by Jan Mostrom, and on a thick pile rya by Katherine Buenger. 

Melanie Groves was intrigued by the calendar aspect, and will create a 3-dimensional felted panel for another month: Sólmánuður (sun month), the third month of summer in the old Norse calendar. It will include a Viking longboat, a solar image, and a tessellation of fish. Lisa Bauch will represent the months of April and May from the Baldishol Tapestry with two long, narrow rugs (16” x 9’). Their abstract designs will be based on the color relationships in the original tapestry. 

Medieval techniques and materials are integral to many pieces. Kelsey Skodje’s embroidery on linen will include floss spun with a medieval-style drop spindle.

A wide range of textile techniques are represented, including fabric block-printed designs using botanical inks and dyes  by Amy Axen, and mixed media textile collage by Amy Ropple. 

Appropriate to an exhibit honoring the Baldishol Tapestry, several tapestries will be featured. Vladimira Fillion-Wackenreuther is using traditional Norwegian billedvev (tapestry) technique, design, yarn, and colors for her tapestry. See this clever concept sketch of the men and their costumes in “Dress Me Up.  

Lindsey Marshall designed a tapestry banner after learning that the Baldishol fragment may have been part of a long frieze. In her concept sketch, the wings at the end reference the Baldishol birds.

The Baldishol Tapestry is a physical embodiment of a past time. Sally Reckert will weave with Scandinavian rare breed wool warp and weft using Norwegian tapestry techniques in an image that brings the Baldishol to today. The horse, birds, and standing person from the Baldishol are joined by children marching behind the horse for action on climate change. Mark your calendar–you’ll want to see her sketch turned into a timeless tapestry. 

More information: Call for Art 

For inspiration, see these articles in the Norwegian Textile Letter “Baldisholteppe: A Treasure from the Middle Ages;” “The Baldishol Tapestry in the White House,” which originally appeared in the Kulturhistorisk Leksikon (Cultural History Encyclopedia), published by Fylkesarkivet i Sogn og Fjordane (the County Archives of Sogn and Fjordane); and “The Baldishol Tapestry–The White House Replica and Others.”

Nordic Weaving Network

A new group has emerged for those who follow weaving in the Nordic countries.  The Nordic Weaving Network was established in February 2018, initially by Danish and Swedish weavers and researchers. Anyone can be a member, and through an active Facebook group you can follow weaving activities in the Nordic countries (plus Nordic weaving activities in the U.S.).

When American weavers hear “Scandinavian weaving” or “Nordic weaving,” they might think about historical coverlets with regional differences, like Norwegian skillbragd or Swedish opphämta weaving. Or Sami woven bands from the north of Scandinavia. They might think about a simple, graphic båtrye (a boat rya) from the West coast of Norway or a 20th century art rijuy from Finland. But an overall Nordic definition of weaving? To Americans in general, that might conjure an image of clean lines, a mid-century modern feeling.

It’s safe to say that most people in the Nordic countries are familiar with weaving traditions in their own countries, but don’t think about a group identity as Nordic weavers.  The Nordic Weaving Network hopes to spark conversation and discussion about this concept of Scandinavian or Nordic weaving, with members who are interested in historical research and contemporary weaving. They hope to build relationships, encourage research, and promote weaving generally among the countries.

Follow along with the conversation by joining the Nordic Weaving Network Facebook group.  New members are encouraged to post about their connection to Nordic weaving.  There have been many links to exhibits and conferences. Whether your interests are in historical textiles or the latest contemporary weaving in Nordic countries, this is a great resource. 

Origins and Ongoing Work of the Nordic Weaving Network

In June, 2018, Vævernes Hus i Denmark arranged an international seminar entitled “Scandinavian Weaving” where 25 participants from 8 different countries came together, partially funded by the Nordisk Kulturfond. It was there that the Network was conceived, a steering group was formed, and future goals and initiatives were planned. A report to the Nordisk Kulturfond on the seminar was approved in October 2018.

In 2018 the steering group worked on expanding the network, and many organizations, schools, and workplaces now support the Network. 

An important goal of the Network has been to establish leadership representing the five Nordic countries.  Currently, the steering group includes: 

Annelie Holmberg, Textile Studie, Uppsala University, Sweden

Arianna Funk, Textile artist at Studio Supersju, Sweden

Gitte Karlshøj, Weaver and Designer at Vævernes Hus, Denmark

Kikka Jelisejeff, Development Manager for Taito, the Finnish Crafts Association, Finland

Merethe Stavnsbjerg, Board-member of Vævekredsene i DK, Denmark

Ragga Thorsdottir (or Ragnheiður Björk Þórsdóttir), Textile Artist at the Icelandic Textile Center in Blönduós, Iceland

Åse Eriksen, Textile Designer at Nordic Textile Art, Norske Tekstilkunstnere and
Norske Kunsthåndverkere, Norway

Tove Engelhardt Mathiassen, museum curator of historical dress and textiles at Den Gamle By in Aarhus, Denmark, is administrator of the Nordic Weaving Network Facebook group .

This triptych by Anne Marie Pedersen is currently the featured image on the Facebook page. Steering committee member Gitte Karlshøj wrote about it Pedersen, “She is a brilliant weaver and a wonderful person. I have never seen anything like her tapestry made in the technique of “Rosengang”. It demands lots of patiense, brainwork and creavity. Anne Marie Pedersen is a member of  Weavers in West Zealand (Vævere i Vestsjælland) and the House of Weavers (Vævernes Hus). Here we are were proud of her and appreciate her skills very much.”

 

 

By Robbie LaFleur

Note: Read to the end for a special offer for readers of the Norwegian Textile Letter.

In the 25th year of The Norwegian Textile Letter, interest in traditional and contemporary Norwegian textiles is strong.  Sweater designer Cynthia Atley Peterson has taken her inspiration from Norwegian skilbragd and doubleweave åklær to design unique sweaters, hats, and mittens. 

People who see the sweaters designed by Cynthia Atley Peterson are no doubt impressed with their beauty, and probably recognize a Scandinavian flair to the designs.  But for weavers familiar with Norwegian weaving techniques…how impressive and intriguing! Two designs in particular take designs from the loom to needles. 

Double-weave coverlets—Off the Bed 

Berit Olsdatter Hilmo, born in 1764 in Tydal, Sør-Trøndelag, was a noted and prolific weaver of doubleweave coverlets. She wove around 500 in all, with intricate patterning woven in a very slow technique. She numbered them and often added the initials of the recipients. Many pieces are in museums. This piece is from the Norsk Folkemuseum, NF.1910-0433.

While researching doubleweave patterns, Cynthia became acquainted with a contemporary weaver in Norway who is weaving in the Berit Hilmo tradition, Berta Stive Lid. This is Stive Lid’s weaving: 

Cynthia was intrigued by the symbols, including hearts for love, branches for life and death, pelicans for Christian charity, and of course, the eight-petaled rose found in so many Scandinavian textiles, for protection. This is the first page of her very thorough and descriptive instructions for her “Double Heart” pattern. 

Purchase the pattern here

Across Norway Sweater

Traditional Norwegian skillbragd patterns unfold with knitting needles, not shuttles, in Cynthia Atley Peterson’s Across Norway sweater. 

Cynthia was inspired by a now out-of-print book, Åklær (Coverlets), by Anne Grete Sandstad. She combined patterns from many regions, including Kystlinja i Sør Trøndelag, Tydalen, Røros, Orkladalføret, Oppdal, and Selbu. She wrote, “Each vertical band in the sweater is from a different area of Norway, all the way around. It is like making a cable sweater and when you learn a band and can recognize where you are it is actually easy!”

Purchase the pattern here

The Roots of Norsk Needlework

Cynthia Atley Peterson grew up in a Norwegian-American family in Minnesota and was drawn to Norwegian folk art. Her mother made Scandinavian-like sweaters in pieces, knitting back and forth, purling on the back, and twisting the colors. Cynthia learned to knit from her mother when she was five, but it wasn’t until she moved to Europe as a young woman and met a Norwegian girl that she learned to more efficiently knit in the round. “It was home free from there,” Cynthia said, “It cut the time from months to weeks for a sweater.”

Cynthia has deep knitting roots throughout her career.  At one point she owned a yarn shop and taught Norwegian knitting and embroidery. She now  sells her knitting designs through her website of the same name, Norsk Needlework.  It was only five years ago that she began to weave, too. She bought a Glimåkra loom from a friend, and received instruction and support through the Central Oregon Spinners and Weavers Guild in Redmond, Oregon. 

She passed on her textile genes to her daughter, Tracy Horner, an embroidery designer who sells her patterns through her website, Ink Circles. You can find three of Cynthia’s Scandinavian designs there, too. This one is “Fjord Ponies.” 

You can knit the wonderful ponies, too, with her “Wild Blue Horses” pattern. And, as a special gift to Norwegian Textile Letter readers, you can contact her for a free download of the “Wild Blue Horses” mittens. 

 

Recently Cynthia relocated to Washoe Valley, Nevada, and has a goal—to weave, rather than knit, her next skillbragd.  

 

Contact Cynthia Atley Peterson:
cindy@norskneedlework.com
18200 Lake Vista Rd, Washoe Valley, Nevada 89704
Web: http://www.norskneedlework.com
Blog: http://norskneedlework.blogspot.com 
Ravelry name: cwoz

 

Underpants History

By Ingrid Berger

What did people wear next to their skin here in Nordfjord in the 1800s and earlier?  What were the common customs?  In pictures, drawings and descriptions from the 1800s, it is most often the outer clothing that we learn about.  It is also the visible clothing that is most researched and described in writing.

Sparse information

There is a good deal of underwear in the collection of Nordfjord Folk Museum (NMF), but the cultural history that surrounds these items is more difficult to determine.  Naturally, perhaps.  But information does exist, for example in the folk-life observations of Eilert Sundt, who travelled around Norway’s rural communities in the 1800s gathering information about how the “common people” lived.  In his book Om renligheds-stellet i Norge [On Cleanliness in Norway], there is much to read about the subject.

Underpants – a new invention

And, brace yourself, underwear was simply not common in the countryside before the middle of the 1800s!  This applied to both women and men.  Among other things, Sundt reported that in a rural community in our county there was a “tauskone” [old maid] who first began to use underwear sometime around 1830, and that “hun blev riktignok hedende Brok-Kari for det samme, ja, da en mand siden fulgte exemplet, fik han også samme navn” [she was, in fact, called Underpants-Kari for that; and yes, when a man later followed her example, he got the same name].  It was so unusual to use underpants at that time that one received a nickname for doing so.

A woman of today would not go without underpants under her skirt, even if the skirt was ever so long.  It would most certainly clash with her understanding of what was seemly.  But early in the 1800s it was completely the opposite: it was unseemly for a woman to wear underpants under her skirt!

An example of knitted women’s underpants in wool from Gloppen.  The length is 69 cm. The underpants are grey-blue and likely machine-knit.  There is a decorative, crocheted portion inset on one side of each leg, and uppermost on one side.  There is a crocheted edge at the waist to thread an elastic cord through.  There is a gusset in the crotch.  A patch of cotton fabric is sewn onto the inside of the back.  Owner: Nordfjord Folk Museum – Dated: 2006 – Photograph by Nordfjord Folk Museum.

Airy women’s underpants

Remarkable for us today is also the fact that women’s underpants could be open in the crotch.  Such underpants were called open pants.  Open pants had two legs that were only held together at the waist and that were not sewn together in the crotch.  Women today would consider such open pants to be highly risqué, but such was not the case for women 150 years ago.  That which is considered seemly has completely reversed on this point.

But why didn’t they use underpants in the early 1800s?  Looking at some practical conditions at the time may not give the entire explanation, but it can make that convention more understandable.

An example of women’s underpants in white cotton from Gloppen.  From the waist down, the length is 71 cm.  The pants have some small tucks in the waist and waistband that were wider in the middle front such that they go down into a point.  There is an opening in the sides that can be tied together with cord and a gusset sewn in the crotch.  Both machine- and hand-sewing have been used.  Sewn to the bottom edge of the legs is some “bought lace” with a hole pattern. Owner: Nordfjord Folk Museum – Dated: 2006 – photograph by Nordfjord Folk Museum.

The skirt as a private toilet

The toilet rarely existed as a private room at that time.  The toilet was usually communal, or people did their “business” outside.  When women would “relieve themselves”, they could simply go a little way from others, stand upright with a slight curve in their back, slightly bend their knees, and hold their skirt a little out from themselves. Women could thus, rather unseen, take care of their “business.”  This usually happened in fixed places.  It goes without saying that for this errand, it would not be practical to have underpants, or have pants that were sewn together in the crotch, when the alternative was to draw up your skirt, pull down your underpants and squat.  Seen in this light, one can understand that it was, in fact, quite seemly to go without underpants, or to have them open in the crotch.

To save cloth and work

We can also gain an understanding of “underpants resistance” when we realize that fabric and yarn for the production of cloth was much more highly valued by people in the 1800s than it is by us today.  A finished piece of clothing was the result of a long process.  Cloth of wool, hemp and linen had traveled a long way from raw fibers to finished cloth, and by way of people’s own hands.  Nothing was in abundance.  Regular people in rural Norway had very little, which meant that one managed with the little one had.  Seen in this light, one can understand that underwear was an unnecessary luxury.

How to keep warm

How did they keep warm, especially in wintertime, without underpants?  Long upper garments of wool were usual during winter for both women and men.  These were long, preferably extending down a little over the thighs.  In this way the body below the waist was kept warm.  Men had pants and women had wool skirts and wool underskirts, and both men and women had wool stockings.

For women it must have still been drafty and cold under their skirts during the cold winters. Sundt confirms this when he writes that various abdominal complaints were a frequent problem with women.  Eventually recommendations were forthcoming from the health authorities to use underpants.  For women’s health, the absence of underpants was not good.

An example of rib-knit (1 knit, 1 purl) long wool underpants from a woman from Eid. The length is 90 cm from the waistband down.  It is likely machine-knit. A two-ply wool yarn was used, and there is a crocheted edge uppermost to thread an elastic cord through.  At the bottom of each leg is a knitted ribbed portion (2 knit, 2 purl).  A knitted gusset is sewn into the crotch.  Probably men’s and women’s versions of this type were not particularly distinctive.
Owner: Nordfjord Folk Museum – Dated: 2006 – photograph by Nordfjord Folk Museum.

Materials and technique

When underpants eventually came into use, they were first hand sewn from woven wool cloth.  Knitted undergarments from wool yarn came into use around the mid 1800s, first as knitted undershirts, then as knitted underpants.  When the knitting machine came into use, knitted underpants became the rule.

In the beginning, women preferably went pants-less under their skirts during the summer, but used wool underpants during the winter.  Eventually, as cotton became common, they used wool and cotton alternately, depending on the season.  In a reminiscence from Gloppen, the underwear of an older women born in 1838 was described.  This woman used a wool undershirt nearest the skin, had gathered wool underskirts in tabby and underpants of wadmal during the winter, and home woven cotton twill during the summer.  As described, these were sturdy clothes, in the shape of “half pants” of the knickers type.  These were garments elderly women used in the beginning of the 1900s.

“Despite the prejudice against it”

It is possible that the more widespread use of underpants may be associated with the more common use of cotton from about the middle of the 1800s.  One could buy yarn and weave the cloth oneself, or buy ready-made fabric, although the latter was likely a luxury in the beginning.  One could also buy cotton and spin it at home.

Eilert Sundt believed, in any case, that there was great benefit with the appearance of cotton tabby cloth: “Ikke alene til skjorter og særker, men også til underbukser – et plag som i det sidste halvhundrede år har holdt på at komme i brug selv blandt almuekvinderne, trods den fordom, som var i veien” [Not only for shirts and shifts, but also for underpants – a garment that in the last half century has been coming into use, even among rural women, despite the prejudice against it].

Mostly unused underwear

Most of the underwear in the museum appears to be unused, and perhaps the explanation is that they were so old-fashioned during the time they were produced that they were left unworn? As a rule, underwear was not taken care of for posterity.  For the most part, it is finer clothes that we have left from our ancestors.  Underwear was “used up.”  For example, we have no open underpants in the collection, so if anyone has some in a closet, please contact the museum (Nordfjord Folk Musuem).  

An example of a woman’s knitted wool undershirt.  The length is 73 cm.  Note that the undershirt is very long, such that it will reach well below the abdomen. The undershirt is knitted in ribbing (1 knit, 1 purl) of thin wool yarn and it is relatively light and soft.  It’s likely that the body is machine-knit, while the sleeves could be knitted by hand.  The sleeves are sewn on with gussets that are knitted in two rounds.  There is a crocheted picot edge in the neck. The sleeves have ribbing (2 knit, 2 purl). The shape of knitted wool undershirts seems to have been fairly similar for women and men, and there is not much variation in their construction.  Women’s undershirts can be somewhat more decorated, for example with a crocheted picot edge, and they usually have short sleeves or no sleeves, while the men’s undershirts have long sleeves. Owner: Nordfjord Folk Museum – Dated: 2006 – photograph by Nordfjord Folk Museum.

Sources:

Frykmann, Jonas: Den kultiverade människan. Gleerups, Kristianstad. 1979.
Ryssdal, Marie: Husflid og handarbeid i tida ca.1850-1940. Særtrykk av Soga om Gloppen og Breim. Sandane. 1979.
Sundt Eilert: Om renligheds-stellet i Norge. Gyldendal Norsk forlag, Gjøvik 1975.
Riddervold, Astrid: – Og hva hadde de så under -? Undertøy i Norge 1860-1930. I Dugnad ¾. Novus forlag, Oslo 1987.

This article originally appeared in the Kulturhistorisk Leksikon published by the Fylkesarkivet i Sogn og Fjordane and is reprinted in translation by permission.

Translation by Katherine Larson and Marta Kløve Juuhl

New Birds Sighted on Minnesota’s North Shore–Felted Ones

By Mary Reichert

Karen Flatøy Svarstad’s North House workshop in February 2019, Felting Exploration: Sculptural Felting, was a look into both flat and sculptural forms of felt-making. Karin is well known for her elegantly sculpted bird forms, as well as the strength and quality of her finished felt.   

Attentive workshop students

She began class with what seemed to be a straightforward task–making strong, square pieces of felt.  It is no easy task making felt that is even, well fulled, and with straight edges (no cutting allowed!) Our aim with this piece was to create layers of different colors so we could then cut designs into the felt.  

Student felting

One of her gifts as an instructor is her in depth understanding of how to work with different types of wool. She said if you look at the sheep and how they behave, their wool will behave quite similarly. Those who wander, jump, and play in the hills have a wandering wool (like the Old Norse Sheep), and Merino wool will stay put while felting.

This combination of wandering wool and non-wandering wool made a very dense and strong piece of felt we could cut and then reveal the colors underneath.

The sculptural portion of class focused on creating small song and shore birds.  Many of the birds became a cross between a seal and a song bird as we attempted to create a strong core of leftover bits of wool which was then layered with batting into the general bird shape. 

Student work–birds emerge!

Karin’s visit brought awareness to the details of making felt, as well as raising good questions about our own local economies in support of wool. Are we doing enough to help sustain the land, sheep, and farmers who make it possible to do all the spinning, weaving, sewing, knitting, and felting that we love?  

One of my biggest takeaways in Karin’s class was the world of fleece is incredibly varied, and it’s well worth experimenting to discover the possibilities.  The flat-felt we made was very dense, but not just from extended fulling.  Karin has mastered the ability to pick and choose different types of wool to blend, depending on the project and her desired outcome.   This way she can guide the strength, flexibility, and finish of the piece.  She taught me that I still have much to learn about the qualities of individual fleeces and how to blend them to create just the right wool for the project.

Karen Flatøy Svarstad’s felt-sculpted birds

If you would like more information about Karin’s work, you can find Gallery Frøya and the North Atlantic Native Sheep and Wool Conference on Facebook.

The SommerAkademiet is on the web at www.sommerakademiet.com 

Karin’s website: www.karinflatoysvarstad.com

Author bio: My grandmother was a weaver, spinner and lace-maker and inheriting a loom of hers with a half-done project is what led me onto the path of fiber arts.  In 2005, I began to work for a couple of small sheep and fiber farms where I learned to weave, spin and felt. I am now a full-time felt-maker, inspired especially from the felt culture of Central Asia where there is such elegance and attention to detail on everyday items like bags, blankets and rugs. It makes daily life into the work of art. I have now traveled to Kyrgyzstan three times to study felt-making, with particular focus on rugs.  My most recent trip I learned the traditional art of making shyrdaks. I am currently working on three large community felted rug projects (Grand Rapids, Duluth, and Grand Marais) and when I’m not traveling and teaching, I work out of my home studio in Grand Marais, MN.

Karin Flatøy Svarstad: Felt Artist

By Mary Reichert

Karin Flatøy Svarstad was born on Voksa, a small island on the west coast of Norway.  Living on the sea they were naturally a fishing village and in those damp conditions it was essential to keep warm and dry.  For generations the fisherman survived on the wool of the Old Norse Sheep of Norway who are the direct descendants of the Viking sheep. Karin’s grandmother would knit and felt socks for her father and grandfather, who were both fisherman, and this is where she first learned to make felt.

She is now a skilled felt-maker with 40+ years of experience who works building connections through arts and culture, with wool often serving as the common thread.  In 1998 she started the Sommerakademiet in Kalvåg, Norway. The Academy offers classes spring to fall, and study trips to the North Atlantic. The aim of the Academy is to “create art and cultural activities in the district, build networks in Vesterled, and facilitate collaboration and exchange within art, culture, and crafts” (www.sommerakademiet.com). She also opened Galleri Frøya in Kalvåg as another way to help boost the local economy through arts and culture.

Karen Flatøy Svarstad’s felted birds

In 2011 the farmers on Orkney Island invited Karin to come talk about possibilities for their local wool. They have an incredibly unique seaweed eating sheep living on the coast of North Ronaldsday and they thought the wool too rough and dirty to use.

This became the start of the North Atlantic Native Sheep and Wool Conference which has blossomed into a gathering that is now held annually. The conference has been to the Isle of Man, Outer Hebrides, Orkney, Iceland, Faroe Islands, Norway, and the Shetland Islands. This coming year it will be in Setesdal, Norway, and in 2020 they will travel to Greenland.

Karin started the conference because she saw people were not being paid for their wool and instead throwing it away or burning it.  She also thought people around the North Atlantic who share a love for the Northern European short-tailed breeds could learn from each other and share stories of how the sheep survive in the sometimes harsh landscapes of the North Atlantic.

Orkney now has a carding and spinning mill and they have begun to sell their wool. Isle of Man also began to market their wool of the Manx Loaghtan. The beautiful black wool of the Hebridean, once thought no good, is also gaining recognition. From this conference, Wool Weeks have also started in Shetland and Norway that help promote native breeds and support the farmers who raise them.

Karin was surprised by the great interest in the conference. People have come from as far as South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand to connect with the people and cultures of the North Atlantic.

North House Folk School, in Grand Marais, Minnesota, hosted Karin on her first trip to the US during their Northern Fibers Retreat in February 2019. She was busy during her three-week residency teaching community classes, working with high school students, offering public presentations, and teaching courses at North House. 

Read about her North House course in the accompanying article, “New Birds on the North Shore: Felted Ones.”

Author bio: My grandmother was a weaver, spinner and lace-maker and inheriting a loom of hers with a half-done project is what led me onto the path of fiber arts.  In 2005, I began to work for a couple of small sheep and fiber farms where I learned to weave, spin and felt. I am now a full-time felt-maker, inspired especially from the felt culture of Central Asia where there is such elegance and attention to detail on everyday items like bags, blankets and rugs. It makes daily life into the work of art. I have now traveled to Kyrgyzstan three times to study felt-making, with particular focus on rugs.  My most recent trip I learned the traditional art of making shyrdaks. I am currently working on three large community felted rug projects (Grand Rapids, Duluth, and Grand Marais) and when I’m not traveling and teaching, I work out of my home studio in Grand Marais, MN.