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Nordic Notes: Happy 2023

Scandinavian Textiles Zoom Lectures

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zoom Lecture and Sale of Scandinavian Weavings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Viking Era Varafeldur — Miniature Edition

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

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

Kari Steihaug Book

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

In the Market for New Shoes?

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

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

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

For those who would like to donate, here’s an easy link.

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

Robbie LaFleur, Publisher

2022 Ribbon Winners from the Annual Exhibition of Weaving in the Norwegian Tradition

From the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum press release, Summer 2022:

Six weavers were awarded ribbons in the annual “National Norwegian-American Folk Art Exhibition” at Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum and Folk Art School. The exhibit was on display from July 2 -July 30, 2022.

Photo: Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum

The exhibition also included knifemaking, metalworking, rosemaling, and woodworking categories. Vesterheim, which has some of the most outstanding examples of decorative and folk art in the nation, established the rosemaling exhibition in 1967 and added weaving, woodworking, knifemaking, and metalworking in later years. 

Each year judges award blue, red, and white ribbons representing points that accumulate over successive exhibitions toward a Vesterheim Gold Medal. Judges also present Honorable Mention and Best of Show Awards and the public votes for People’s Choice Awards. 

Judges this year for weaving were Mary Skoy, master weaver from Edina, Minnesota; Robbie LaFleur, Gold Medal weaver from Minneapolis, Minnesota; and Rachelle Branum, art educator from Decorah, Iowa.

Kathleen Almelien, Washington, IA.  “Granddaughter’s Confirmation” Blue Ribbon

Kathleen Almelien is an artist/teacher from Washington, Iowa.  She began investigating the process/product of band weaving in 2016.   Kathleen has become interested in reading the Norwegian emoji’s that are woven into this historic rope.

“Granddaughter’s Confirmation”

The 120“ long band is ⅝” wide and was produced on a rigid heddle.  My rigid heddle is held in a West Telemark vertical loom. The tape is made in 5 colors of Vavstuga 20/2 wool and 2 colors of perle cotton.

I was inspired to make my granddaughter’s conformation belt to protect her from harm. The protection is historically strengthened by the giving of one generation to the next.

I produced this pattern from a historic collection of motifs published by Magnahid Peggy Jones Gilje in her book Woven Treasures, published in 2020. 

The word waist translates from Norwegian as ”life.“  Historically wrapping the apron band around the waist not once but twice gives a doubling of protection. The first “barrier” at the end of the band is a woven checkerboard, used for protection from nightmares. Then St. Anders cross/ humility. Finally, the heart/ the center of life’s functions represents the soul of the being and means everything positive – such as love, warmth and good feelings.  The heart emotes falling in love/being in love. I wish all of this for her future.

Kathleen Almelien, Washington, IA. “Oseberg Endless Sign Band” Red Ribbon

“Oseberg Endless Sign Band”

The 120“ long band is ⅝” wide. The band is made in six colors of Vavstuga 20/2 wool and two colors of cotton. The rope has three areas of design. The  four reds and white mid-band is woven with a warp of no 10 cotton and 13 “pick up“ yarns. The band’s length, 120″, is divisible by both three and four, which are Norwegian power numbers that protect from evil. It also uses the number three in the pick-up pattern.

The inspiration for this intertwined protective pattern came from the treasure trove of the Oseberg burial ship (carbon dated to 850 AD).  The double wall of zig zag is to catch and hold evil.  This emoji is reminiscent of sharp teeth or saw blades.

The band’s colors are equally important: 

Green: spring /renewal /promise,
Gold: the sun for warmth /growth/ hope/wealth
Red: the color of life and blood.

The rope has three areas of design.  The strengthening edges consist of three cotton warp and 3 colors of yarn to weave  the ”goats hoof” pattern distinct to the region of  Telemark.  

 

Carol Culbertson, Evansville, WI. “Diamonds Galore” Honorable Mention

“Diamonds Galore”

After weaving for 25 years, I taught myself Norwegian traditional weaving techniques 7 years ago. Since then, I have taken 3 weaving classes at Vesterheim’s Folk Arts School, learning how to expand and improve my weaving skills.

My inspiration for this piece comes from weavings I saw while taking a weaving class in 2018 and the celebration of our 60th wedding anniversary. It was most enjoyable putting together the colors and different elements.

Carol Culbertson, Evansville, WI. “Chris’s View” Red Ribbon

“Chris’s View”

Warp: Patons “Grace” 4 ply 100% cotton spun to an overtwist

My great-grandfather’s memories of his home in Vik i Sogn, Norway, inspired this weaving. When asked what he remembered most about Norway, he replied, “the mountains and fjords.” As I stood by his home in Vik and looked towards the harbor, this is what I saw – his view every day from his home. The two 16 1/2″ X 23″ panels are displayed in side by side “windows.”

Laura Demuth, Decorah, IA. “Two Long Winters” People’s Choice Award

I live on a small acreage just eight miles from Decorah, and have been weaving since the late 1970’s. I weave using mostly Norwegian techniques which I have learned in Vesterheim classes with inspiration from the textile collection.

This wall hanging was woven using 12/6 cotton seine for the warp and Rauma Prydvevgarn for the weft.

In 2017, my husband gifted me with a 60 inch wide Glimakra tapestry loom. I wanted to weave at least one piece on the loom that made use of its entire width. Woven using the Rutevev technique, the finished piece measures approximately 56″x71″.

Helen Scherer, Shawnee, KS. “Skis and Rails” White Ribbon

“Skis and Rails”

As a weaving hobbyist, I enjoy a variety of handlooms and traditional Norwegian weaving techniques for clothing fabrics and home textiles. My mother taught me the basics, but I continue to learn from many different resources.

This 25″x41″ skillbragd wall hanging was woven with thin 30/2 and 24/2 unbleached cotton for the background and mostly dark red, blue and green 6/2 Spælsau wool for the pattern weft.

“Skillbragd” means “shed weave” and is characterized by pattern weft floats over a plain weave background. Vertical background stripes are commonly seen with this technique, but the pattern is difficult to achieve without a rather unusual loom setup. On a countermarch loom, I used a group of four shafts for the ground separated by a few inches from a group of four shafts for the pattern. Each warp end was threaded through one ground heddle and above the eyes of from zero to four pattern heddles.

“Skis and Rails” is a traditional woven wall hanging in memory of my father, who enjoyed skiing and worked as a railroad roadmaster. The design was inspired by combining elements from a variety of old coverlet patterns in the “skillbragd” technique.

Sandra Somdahl, Decorah, IA. “Stars and Rosettes” Red Ribbon

“Stars and Rosettes”

I’ve been weaving for over 20 years but fell in love with the Norwegian techniques, yarn and colors. Living close to Vesterheim has given me easy access to classes and old Scandinavian woven pieces to use for inspiration.

The weft is linen and the warp is Norwegian Rauma Prydvevgarn.

Inspiration comes from a late 18th century piece from Sweden, possibly a south western province.

Wendy Stevens, Decorah, IA. “Firestorm Sunrise” Blue Ribbon

“Firestorm Sunrise”

I have been weaving since 1976 when I took an adult education class in beginning weaving on a rigid heddle frame loom and must admit that I was amazed to realize that I was making cloth.   I have also taken classes at Vesterheim in tapestry technique from Lila Nelson and in danskbrogd from Jan Mostrom and discovered that I enjoy the detail that both techniques require.  I am a member of the Oneota Weavers Guild and enjoy the sharing and encouragement within that group.

I wove Firestorm Sunrise in the winter of 2020 when devastating wildfires were sweeping across Australia. I chose single interlocking tapestry to show the sun rising over the Pacific Ocean.  Danskbrogd technique allowed depiction of the sun’s rays both reflecting from the ocean surface and radiating out into the smoke-filled sky showing the beautiful yet terrifying atmospheric changes that accompany wildfire.  High overhead flocks of birds, the only living animals that were able to escape, are making their way to new lands.

Following in Lila Nelson’s footsteps, I would like this weaving to reflect the beauty of nature as well as make a political statement.   I hope that the viewer will come away from this weaving with a renewed sense of urgency to address climate change by government, business and  individuals.

Firestorm Sunrise was woven in honor of and respect for my son, Thomas T. Stevens, who has been a wild land firefighter for over 20 years.

Lisa Torvik, St. Paul, MN. “Hordaland 3rd Generation.” Blue Ribbon and Best of Show

“Hordaland 3rd Generation”

My first weaving project was on a loom at home.  As a teenager, I took backstrap weaving from Lila Nelson.  I went to Valdres with the first Samband exchange group in 1970, as a museum guide in 1972 and a weaving student in husflidsskule all of 1974.

This is a transparent inlay weaving based on the traditional borders of a Hordaland coverlet.  The materials are primarily 16/2 Swedish linen, unbleached and colored, and some perle cotton.

When I was at Valdres Husflidsskule, our weaving teacher showed us a Hordaland coverlet she had woven when she was a student.  A classmate and I studied and drew its borders, shot for shot, on graph paper.  I used that as the pattern to reproduce the piece in half-width.  Last year, there was a couple meters of warp left on my loom from my Baldishol show piece so I was inspired to weave it down using my Hordaland tapestry as the model.  Starting at the bottom, I wove inlaid borders with the same shot-for-shot pattern until I ran out of warp.  This is why I call it “third generation.” (See: Three “Generations” of an Old Hordaland Weaving Design)

Vesterheim, the National Norwegian-American Museum and Folk Art School, welcomes people of all ages and backgrounds to engage in the conversation of the American immigrant journey through the lens of the Norwegian-American experience. Vesterheim offers innovative and interactive exhibits, classes, and programs, both at the dynamic campus and park in scenic Decorah, Iowa, and online at vesterheim.org and Vesterheim social media.
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

The Meanings of Finnish Folk Rya: Cultural Traditions

By Marjo Ahonen

The cultural history and other possible meanings of Finnish folk “ryijy” or rya have attracted a great deal of public interest following recent flea market discoveries, and the publicity they have attracted aroused wild interest in other folk-like ryas as well. In this article, we share the story of Finnish folk rya. This article is based on the Craft Museum of Finlands’ 2007 rya publication Ryijy esillä [Ryijy in the collections of the Craft Museum of Finland]. We highlight the meanings that have been explored in material for which information on ownership or use is no longer available. 

The Craft Museum of Finland’s rya collections are based on ryas collected in the early 20th century, and which were born from the tradition of castle rya. They are covers and bridal ryas made by unknown peasant women, mainly during the golden age of rya weaving in Western Finland from 1770 to 1850. The collection of these weavings was linked to the national spirit of the period.

A section of interior at the State Handicraft Museum in 1914. Photo: Craft Museum of Finland.

The Craft Museum of Finland has a collection of around 40 folk ryas, which were collected when the museum was founded and in its early decades. Lauri Mäkinen (from 1920 Kuoppamäki), an advocate of the home industry idea and the first museum director, assembled a collection of ryas for the State Handicraft Museum at a time when the national rya was elevated to the status of a national treasure. One of the results of this development was the publication in 1924 of U.T. Sirelius’s first study on folk rya, which was followed by a huge interest in rya in our country.

In the early 2000s, the old collection of the State Handicraft Museum was studied as part of a large-scale collection and storage project, the results of which were presented in the exhibition Ryijykuume! The museum’s old State Handicraft Museum-era rya were analysed both in terms of weaving techniques and cultural as well as historical features and placed in their regional and historical context. The materials, size and shape of the weavings reveal the cultural history of textiles and crafts at different times, while the composition, symbols and colouring of the patterns give an indication of the use of the weavings at different times, in different contexts. 

The cultural history of rya

Purpose and use changed appearance

The earliest rya were simple and undecorated. The pile was long and was tied on one side only. In a bed, the pile side was turned down and the plain side was the upper side of the rya. When used in this way, rya was a very warm blanket. In the Finnish archipelago, the tradition of the so-called boat rya continued almost unchanged for a long time.

The use of the rya gradually changed from a coverlet to a 19th century bridal and dowry rya as well as a decorative rya to be kept on the wall. At the same time, design of the pile became more complicated, with the use of various symbols and surface ornamentation. Peasant weavers, however, did not use weaving patterns, but composed their weavings according to their own recollections about the pattern. Regional stylistic features can therefore also be discerned in vernacular weaving. Places and regions close to the coast and cities were more exposed to new influences and to changes in style and fashion.

The most traditional type is represented by the reticulated weavings, which are woven with both rectangular and diagonal designs. In Finland, the most common national rya pattern is the diagonal weave, which is directly descended from the castle rya. The so-called scattered diamond weaves are those in which the grid pattern has disappeared, leaving meshes with visible fillings: diamonds, crosses, brides, crowns, hearts, and floral patterns such as stylised tulip petals, vases, and tree motifs. In Central Finland and parts of the Häme, the frame of the ryas widened to include a variety of motifs, such as flowering vines, spotted stripes, checkerboards and hexagons. In the later phase, the diamond pattern disperses and transforms into an even, small cloth-like pattern.

The early days of rya circa 1300-1770 

The different phases of weaving and cultural history have many meanings when looking at folk rya. In the Viking Age, rya was brought to Finland via Scandinavia, and in a cultural-historical sense, Finnish rya is a West Finnish textile, originally from the coastal regions. The oldest ryas were blankets, used as a cover in a boat, bed or sleigh, simple and undecorated. In the islands and along the waterways, the rya was a standard item of traveller’s equipment.

By order of King Gustav Vasa, ryas began to be listed in property inventories and hereditary records from the mid-15th century onwards; they could also be used as means of payment and taxes could be paid partly in ryas.

In the large rooms of stone-built royal palaces and manor houses, ryas were used on the sleeping lounges along the walls of the rooms. Blankets with thick piles to ward off the cold were the lifeblood of sleepers. Ryas made in narrow looms were joined with several seams to make a wide blanket, and up to four people could sleep side by side under one blanket.

A rya was also a commodity or an object of personal possession given to a soldier of the Crown to carry with him on his travels. When the army was at its strongest, weaving was at its most productive. As times became more peaceful, the weaving of rya also declined.

There was very little decoration and colouring in the blanket ryas, initially only white and brown sheep’s wool was used. Patterns were limited to the edges or ends of the rya, which were decorated with stripes, squares and borders using different coloured pile. In castle ryas, the pile surface could also be decorated with simple dice patterns or coloured stripes. Inventory lists and bailiff accounts show that the use of coloured pile was sometimes used for the ryas of the nobility. Sometimes they might also be knotted with the owner’s coat of arms. As the use of different plant dyes became more common, so did the use of patterning, with the introduction of rectangular and diagonal decorations and various types of meandering decorative borders. On the plain side, the surface of the cloth was decorated with coloured stripes and a patterned binding on the base fabric.

The ryas were made by professional weavers in the castles’ own workshops or under the auspices of the crown estates. Apparently, Finnish weaving was already acquiring its own special characteristics, as the ryas made here were worthy of the court and were priced higher than those made in Sweden. King Gustav Vasa paid special attention to Finnish weaving and sought to develop it.

Towards the 1700s at the latest, the nobility began to favour stuffed quilts as covers instead of ryas. At the same time, the great wars of the early 1700s and the Russian occupation led to the exile of the Swedish nobility from Finland. These factors, together with the economic depression caused by the years of famine and war, contributed to the cessation of rya production for a time. The so-called Gustavian period, which is considered to have begun in 1772 with the coup d’état of Gustav III, brought self-government and court life back to Finland. The internal construction and economic development that began at that time (known as the Age of Utility), together with increased trade with the rest of the world, helped western parts of Finland to prosper through shipbuilding and the tar trade. 

The improvement in living conditions naturally began to be reflected first in the rise in the standard of living of the gentry. New winds were blowing in the furnishing industry, and furniture fabrics and wall hangings were imported from Sweden to Finland. The rising living standards and the associated technical innovations in residential buildings, such as the introduction of smoke-controlling stoves and glass windows, contributed to the spread of rya and other interior textiles among the peasantry. As the art of weaving ryas spread from castles and royal estates to the surrounding population, vernacular ryas emerged among the peasantry, woven by skilled and talented weavers. Peasant weavers transferred ornaments from the cross stitches made by bourgeois women to the ryas they wove by visual memory. The designs and colours of the ryas, especially those made as bridal coverlets, were particularly rich. The oldest surviving ryas date from the 1700s, except for one dating from the 17th century. 

Folk-style rya and manor style rya – the heyday of folk rya 1770-1850

In the beginning, the sleeping platforms were wide, designed for more than one sleeper, and the shape of the rya resembled a large square rather than a rectangle. When the dwellings were cramped and the looms used for weaving were narrow, one or more central seams were needed for the wide ryas used as blankets. The weaving of the rya was not technically demanding, but as pattern drawings were not yet in use, the weaver had to have an eye for colour and compositional skills. They had to be able to memorize the alignment of the sides that were to be sewed together. Later, as prosperity brought the introduction of wide, two-weaver looms and beds began to be reduced to single beds, ryas became one-piece and rectangular instead of the square shape of the past.

A folk-style rya from 1791, combined from two pieces. Photo: Craft Museum of Finland.

Ryas were made for everyday use as well as for ostentation, using blue and red purchased dyes in addition to natural plant dyes as a sign of wealth. As the textile wore out, it was used for another, less important purpose, and finally used as a horse blanket, for example. Everyday coverlets were usually worn out in their own time.

The enrichment of the patterning of the weavings was influenced by a change in the weaving process: the ground weft and pile yarns were thinned, and the piles were cut to precise dimensions, so that the patterns began to stand out more clearly than in the case of long-piled coverlets. Decorative patterns were used on bridal ryas to wish the couple good luck, but also to express the wealth of the house and the profitability of the matrimony. Bridal and dowry ryas were made for the festive turning point in life, but also to be used as a coverlet from then on. 

Dowries were woven and sewn and included gifts that the bride made and gave to her new relatives. When a daughter of the house was married, she received a dowry of not only domestic animals but also a bridal rya and possibly a bridal chest. The dowry had to last for the rest of her life, as it was also her inheritance from her household. In most cases, valuable bridal ryas have been handed down to descendants. 

A folk-style bridal rya, 1810. Photo: Craft Museum of Finland.

Originally a West Finnish tradition, the rya gradually spread deeper into the inland areas of Finland. At the same time, the motifs of the ryas changed; local differences and distinctive ways of decorating the ryas were born. In the areas furthest from the coastal harbours and urban settlements, the old-fashioned colouring and lustre wool yarns were preserved for the longest time.

Weavers of national rya

All ryas made before 1900 were textiles for use as coverlets. It is not known whether they were designed and made by professional weavers or rural weavers. In the era of castle ryas, the elaborate designs of professional weavers were usually for utility and bridal ryas in line with fashion trends. Since model drawings were not yet in use, the transfer of designs by memory only and their application to existing materials required good compositional skills and an eye for colour. In turn, the peasant weavers who worked under professional weavers in castle workshops and royal mansions memorised the designs, decorative motifs and colours used by the professionals and then applied them to their own purposes.

When using narrow looms, the weaver also had to use their memory to align the patterns so that the sewed halves of the finished rya somewhat matched. Peasant ryas are a testament to the skills of their makers, and at their best are considered to be Finnish folk art of their time.

The value of rya

Meanings associated with rya in the 1700-1800s

A rya has always been considered a textile of value. Its value has been determined by its size, material, weight and colours. As a large textile, it contains a lot of expensive material; when decorated, dyeing also added to the cost. In the Middle Ages, ryas are recorded in the account books and property lists of royal estates and were included in the distribution of inheritance in the estate inventory deeds. Textiles were a vital source of warmth at that time and that was reason enough for them to be valuable. Wool, the material used to make ryas, retains heat well and insulates moisture effectively.

A folk-style bridal rya, 1799. Photo: Craft Museum of Finland.

Finnish craftsmanship and wool as a material were obviously highly valued at the Swedish court. Ryas were exported from Finland to Stockholm for use by the royal family and the court. However, the delivery of the ryas was mostly about a payment of taxes and not an actual fulfilment of order. The inhabitants of the Archipelago and coastal towns also paid their taxes in the form of ryas, for example by supplying their troops with boat ryas. 

The heyday of the traditional rya lasted until the 1850s, when social changes also brought changes in living conditions and the use of new materials to all sections of the population. The old type of utility items, such as the rya, was no longer needed. Industrialisation had a strong impact, and the succession of different styles highlighted the need for mass production. The nature of craftsmanship changed, and the traditional craftsmanship that had been part of Finnish folklore began to disappear. Hand-made and expensive ryas could not compete with cheaper industrially produced textiles. Eventually, even in peasant homes, the old textiles of value gave way to the new fashionable textiles.

The rise in the value of peasant ryas in the early 1900s

The change in the appreciation of the old ryas at the beginning of Finland’s independence made old peasant ryas into wall and interior textiles, so that displaying them and their decorative function became paramount in their appreciation. Lauri Kuoppamäki compared the importance of the rya to Finnish culture with the importance of folk music and poetry.

“Just as it has been considered necessary to collect old folk music and poetry, it is also important to take an inventory of the most precious flower of our folk art, the rya.” (Lastu ja Lanka 1933 no 4, 52; SKM-A0476.)

Kuoppamäki was not alone in his comparison. Arttu Brummer (1891–1951), then a leading figure in the Finnish art industry, also equated the old ryas, ‘the products of folk weaving,’ with folk songs, poems, and stories (Käsiteollisuus 1926, no 3, 43-44). “As proud as Greek culture may be of its beautiful vases, we can be equally proud of our wonderful ryas.” (Käsiteollisuus 1924, no 6, 99.)

In this way, Brummer incorporated the rya into the invaluable national cultural heritage. For him they were Finnish “treasures of art,” the fate of which he was particularly concerned about.  According to him, Finland should learn from the old European cultural countries, which had already imposed a special export duty to prevent the export of their own art treasures. According to Brummer, Finns should protect their old ryas and other ‘minor’ art treasures by an outright export ban. 

Where is this collection  that was assembled and stored about a hundred years ago? Today, the Craft Museum of Finland collections of folk art rya can be accessed from your home computer via the Finnish museums’ user service at skm.finna.fi. Soon they will also be available on the museums’ international user portal at https://www.europeana.eu/fi.

[Editor’s note: If you search with the word ryijy at skm.finna.fi , you will come up with over 200 images.]

Marjo Ahonen is Curator at the Craft Museum of Finland, and is a great fan of their collections of ryas. Marjo was part of the team of authors that wrote Ryijy elää! Finnish ryas 1778-2008. (2008) and her co-written article on ryas was also published in RYIJY!: The Finnish Ryijy-Rug (Helsinki: Designmuseo, 2009). Craft Museum of Finland works in cooperation with the Design Museum to preserve the Finnish rya tradition.
November 2022
See also an article on the This is Finland website, “Helsinki Show spotlights the Continual Renewal of an Age-Old Finnish Art Form.” It includes an informative short video.
Suopanen, Toumas. “A Short History of the Ryijy-Rug.” Suopanen wrote a beautifully-illustrated book, The Ryijy-Rug Lives On, Finnish Ryijy-Rugs 1778–2008.
Finnish Ryijy Rugs at the Swedish Institute,” originally published in the Norwegian Textile Letter in July 2014.
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

The Meanings of Finnish Folk Rya: Patterns in the Folk-Style Ryas

By Marjo Ahonen

The technique of weaving rya is best suited to geometric decorative motifs. However, more complex patterns and plant motifs unknown to many rural weavers, such as tulips and acanthus, were also transformed into stylised patterns to the weaver’s liking. In the peasant weavers’ ryas, the plant motifs, the tree of life and the human figures are all simplified.

The edge patterns and stripes of the ryas

  • Border stripes. Marked the central area or central pattern of the rya. The border stripes are narrow or wide; later several stripes were placed next to each other.
  • Stripes, diagonal stripes. Oldest patterns in ryas. The stripes are either only on the border or as central patterns on the rya. They may also cover the entire surface of the rya.

Diagonal stripes on a ryijy from 1850-1900. (full information)

  • Checkerboards. Checkerboards were already used in mid-16th century castle ryas. The decorative patterns were probably adopted from other woven textiles of the time. The squares were possibly only on the edge, or they could pattern the entire rug.
  • Grid patterns. An old pattern model from the Middle Ages, both straight and diagonal checkered. The grid pattern has developed from fabric binding patterns, various twill bindings. The grid patterns were first made in large squares, over time the squares became smaller. Small flowers and spots could be used as filling patterns in the eyes of the grid. In Finnish ryas, the grid pattern is a common center field decoration. Straight checkered rugs are common in the Satakunta region, slanted checkered ryas on the coast and Central Finland. Later, the different squares moved away from the center, to frame the edges. Square filling patterns such as flowers and rhombus patterns, i.e., dots and crosses, remained in the middle. The filling patterns were first in vertical, horizontal, and diagonal lines, later scattered.

Checkerboards and zigzags (full description)

  • Zigzags. Zigzags are a typical Finnish pattern from the 17th century. They were first used to decorate wooden objects, from which they moved to ryas. Ryas have serrated stripes on both the central shield and the border.
  • Flowing ornaments, vine and decorative stripe patterns. In ryas, flower vines go around the edges of ryas, either abundant and decorative or rigid and reduced. The acanthus leaf vine, a pattern from 17th-century fashion textiles, is the frame, for example, in the ryas of Southwest Finland (or Finland Proper) and Satakunta. In ryas of Kokemäenjokilaakso, flower vines line the middle field.

The patterns in the middle area of ryas

  • Rhombus. “Rhombus” is a dot in the shape of a diagonal square. The rhombus shape is difficult to make with the rya technique, because the pile forms angular patterns. Cross-shaped small rhombuses are made with just a few pile tassels. In the final stage, diagonal check patterns typically form into a spotted pattern covering the entire surface of the rya. When the grid is no longer left, only loose rhombuses or smaller cross spots remain. 

The diagonal network becomes small squares.(full description)

  • Cross. The cross pattern has appeared on shrouds and coffin covers since the Middle Ages, where the marks protected the deceased on the last journey. The cross pattern has also been used by priests, in so-called bishop’s ryas and church ryas, and later in bridal ryas. In the bridal rya, a cross and other symbols protected the married couple when being wedded on the rya, the same rya protected the wedding bed as a cover. The earliest ryas had one or more large crosses as the central design of the rya. Later, the cross became smaller and moved to the border. The cross also transformed into cross-shaped flowers. Large crosses were woven in Eastern Finland and in some places in Häme. In the Hämeenlinna region, there is a cross-shaped meandering stripe on the edges of the ryas.
  • Dice patterns. Dice patterns have been used as filling patterns inside the grid pattern and as separate, individual patterns in the middle area of the rya.
  • Tulip. The design is of noble origin and has been in fashion since the 17th century, when the tulip was a fashionable plant in Central Europe. The tulip model has been adopted from embroidered samplers, but the flower was still stylised and simplified a lot. The use of the tulip vine as a border decoration also came from the samplers. The oldest Finnish tulip ryas have a lamb’s black wool as a base color, in the 19th century the base color became lighter. Tulip rya is typical in Häme and most common in Satakunta. In Satakunta, the so-called the three-tulip pattern has been woven since the 18th century: in the middle of the vase, one large straight-stemmed tulip, on both sides of it meandering tulip plants with several flowers and leaves. There are also three tulips in the ryas of the Kokemäkijokilaakso, of which the middle one is dominant. Around Tampere and Hämeenlinna, two-tulip ryas, sometimes three-tulip, were woven. Some models have two tulips and only the stem of the third tulip in the middle.
  • Palmette patterns. A decorative motif resembling a palm leaf was used from the beginning of the 19th century, the influences have come from upholstery fabrics and embroidered samplers. It is a pattern connected to the nobility, which has not been common in Finland, but has appeared e.g., in Satakunta. The palmette pattern is usually a fabric-like surface covering the central area, but sometimes it has also been used as a border pattern.

Zigzag borders and a tree of life on an early ryijy (1807?)(full description)

  • Tree, sacred tree, tree of Life. An old ornament that is a metaphor for life. The tree pattern also belongs to ecclesiastical symbolism and appears, for example, in the story of the Fall of a Man, from which the so-called paradise rya was born. In ryas this model has been adopted stylised from samplers and pattern books. The tree pattern is common in the Kokemäenjoki area and Central Finland. The tree in ryas is usually straight-branched and narrow. The trees appear in pairs, as large main motifs or as filler patterns with others. The branches are slanted upwards. Usually, the end of the branch has a small pattern, a square or a cross-shaped star.
  • Human figures. In ecclesiastical symbolism, the human figure is connected to the stories of the Bible, but the human figures have also come from samplers. A man in a knee-length outfit and a woman in a skirt are often depicted as a couple in wedding ryas. However, female figures are more common. The human figures are usually arranged symmetrically in the middle field. The process of making rya could be described as different patterns on rya itself. Many people in line often describe a circle dance.
  • House, windmill. A house is a metaphor for a person themself, the idea of how they have found their place. Windmills are found in the meadows of the Hämeenkyrö region. Windmill patterns have gradually become reduced and simplified.
  • Animals, bird, lion. The lion came from the castle ryas. The sheep in the bridal ryas depicted the bride’s dowry. The dogs originating from samplers are usually depicted naturalistically.  Also from samplers, the birds are depicted in several species such as roosters, chickens and forest birds. The rooster is the old folk’s teller of time.
  • Crown, wreath. The crown comes from heraldry, it is a symbol of the king’s power. The bridal crown and wreath have signified the inviolability of the wearer. Initials are often placed below the crown; the layout comes from samplers. The crown later turned into a wreath.
  • Cornucopia. The pattern came to rya from samplers at the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries, but it has been a popular decorative motif since ancient times. The cornucopia is a metaphor for life’s inexhaustible gifts and fertility.
  • Roses, bouquets of flowers. Roses represent the Virgin Mary, love, rebirth and silence. Flowers are symbols of youth and vitality. The patterns for the ryas have come from cross-stitch patterns. Cross-stitch patterns were naturalistic already from the beginning of the 19th century. The rose ryas usually have scarlet roses on a black background in bouquets, vines or repeating patterns that cover the entire surface.
  • Initials. Usually, the manufacturer’s initials are woven into the rya, but bridal ryas could have the initials of the bride or the wedding couple. The letter t or d after the name or initials means daughter or in Swedish “dotter”. Sometimes the initials of several people involved in the weaving could be woven into the rya. However, professional weavers did not sign their work.
  • Year. The year rya was manufactured or the year the rya was remade. Bridal ryas usually feature the couple’s wedding anniversary year. 
  • Spur wheel, stave cross, eight-pointed star. Different variations of the same pattern, which appear as symbols already in the classical period. The pattern appears on samplers in the middle of the 18th century. In the Längelmävesi region, there is a spur wheel in the middle of a rya, in the Tampere region, the spur wheels appear as stripes on the frame.
  • The heart. The motif is very old, hearts have been used in the interior decoration of churches since the Middle Ages. Collection of hearts, known as “sydänsikermä” has probably changed from a cross motif. The heart is a metaphor for love, which is depicted singly, in pairs, in different groups, even with moustaches (initially a romantic, silk ribbon-decorated love heart that the weaver has seen and remembered). The heart motif is also common in wood carving.
  • Hourglass. A metaphor for impermanence and the passing of time. The pattern appears in church and coffin ryas.
  • Looped square or Saint John’s Arms. Originally a Christian symbol, which name comes from St. John. A decoration and a magic sign that brings good luck and that gives strength and love. The Saint John’s Arms has been used as a protective mark on various objects and textiles, e.g. in bridal ryas.
  • Swastika, sun spinner. The sign expresses the sun, seasons, compass points, infinity. The svastika is a very old symbol of luck, as the earliest information about the use of the sign is approx. 2000 years B.C.
  • Coats of arms, provincial coats of arms. In the Middle Ages, when ryas were woven in royal mansions for the use of the courts, the coat of arms of a gracious lord or a noble owner was knotted to them. The coats of arms were gradually reduced and began to resemble a shield, with perhaps a lion in the middle, the owner’s initials or a pattern resembling a four-paned window. In the 1950s, towns and municipalities acquired coats of arms for themselves, and these coats of arms also became textile patterns. In particular, the company Neovius Ltd. published in its collection ryas dedicated to different localities, on which coats of arms had been composed.
  • Warp threads. The warp thread of the oldest folk-style ryas was hemp thread, which gradually changed to linen thread in the 19th century. The yarn material was grown and spun at home, so the warp threads of the old ryas were a little uneven in thickness. Folk-style ryas never had fringes but had hand-sewn hems at the top and bottom. 

Late 18th century wedding ryijy made of plant-dyed yarn, featuring traditional motifs of husband and wife, plants, and birds.

  • The colours of the pile yarns. The islanders’ boat ryas were woven in almost one color using the natural colors of sheep’s wool: white, black, gray and brown. When dyeing with Finnish plants, mostly yellow and brown-yellow colours were obtained with birch leaves, marsh teas and heathers. Red, blue and green colors were rarer. Since durable bright red and blue could not be obtained from native plants, they became the desired colors among peasant women for centuries.
    However, the tar trade made it possible to get indigo from the Mediterranean countries to Finland, and indigo blue became an important color – a luxury colour for ryas. Other imported dyes were caraway root, which gives a red color, and cochineal, which is an aphid that lives on cactus leaves, and also releases red dye. Red and green were popular colours in ryas at the beginning of the 18th century, and during the 18th century the reign of yellow gradually ended completely, when blue, red and green were adopted as the dominant colours of ryas.
November 2022
Marjo Ahonen is Curator at the Craft Museum of Finland, and is a great fan of their collection of ryas. Marjo was part of the team of authors that wrote Ryijy elää! Finnish ryas 1778-2008. (2008) and her co-written article on ryas was also published in RYIJY!: The Finnish Ryijy-Rug (Helsinki: Designmuseo, 2009). Craft Museum of Finland works in cooperation with the Design Museum to preserve the Finnish rya tradition.
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To Reach the top of a Mountain: Ann Cathrin November Høibo

By Robbie LaFleur 

Ann Cathrin November Hoibø, “Dreams Ahead”

Norway has an excellent program for placing art in public spaces, KORO. Recently, Ann Cathrin November Hoibø was commissioned to weave a large tapestry for the Norwegian Embassy in Washington D.C. Dreams Ahead is Hoibø’s reflection of nature in Norway.

The artist and her process were described in an interview published on the KORO site, “To Reach the Top of a Mountain.” Hoibø was influenced by the scale of the weaving, and working on an enormous loom that was new to her. She couldn’t help but react to the politics of the day and the pandemic that changed all our lives. Weavers enjoy reading about process, and this essay is rich in detail. Reading some of my favorite excerpts will whet your appetite to read the full essay. 

[From the introduction] Naturally gray wool forms the background of the abstract tapestry – a coarse, uneven surface that can be experienced almost as a gray wall, with large fields of unbleached white and charcoal gray pressing in from the sides, not unlike Norwegian skerries in springtime, when these small rocky islands are sprinkled with areas of snow that contrast with the dark rocks…The tapestry is without doubt the largest November Høibo has ever woven, measuring 216 in. high by 119 in. wide (5.5 x 3 m.). She made the work by hand all by herself, without any help from assistants – a quest that took her seven months of daily labor at the loom. The artist also had to rent a larger studio in order to produce on such a large scale.

Following Norwegian tradition, Hoibø used a plain fork as a beater. She explained, “It’s a simple tool and easy to get hold of. I take whatever fork I can find. It’s just important that it’s not too heavy. Also, I need to have a lot of them, because I leave them all over the place. At lunchtime, the other people who have studios in this building can seldom find a fork.”

Anne Cathrin November Høibo, “Dreams Ahead” (detail)

When you weave such a large tapestry, whole seasons go by. Hoibø describes shifting life outside her loom during the creation of Dreams Ahead. “The tapestry takes in life. I respond to my environment – the seasons, the light, and my shifting moods. There are many emotions lying in these threads. Some days it’s incredibly good just to sit here and work, while other days it’s very lonely and frustrating and boring. It feels different to work on this after Christmas and after the U.S. election. It was quite draining in late autumn, when everything was dark, gloomy, and somehow very chaotic – it’s reflected in the dark colors at the top of the tapestry. Now the colors are brighter but cooler. We haven’t had this kind of white winter here for many years, with crisp snow, an unchanging blue sky, and a bracing breeze. The snow has made its way into the tapestry and it’s also possible to see the clear sky and colors. And soon it will get warmer…”

Hoibø relates interesting details about weaving on such a large scale. “This tapestry is so vast that it forces me to work in a different style. Previously, I worked more hectically, but these days I allow myself to use a whole day to roll up the tapestry onto the cloth beam, and to tie and untie all the knots for the weights one by one. And I tell myself that this is enough for today, so I keep my strength to continue again tomorrow. It’s a grown-up approach; it feels healthier.”

Dreams Ahead was woven on a loom with history, one that was used in the well-known tapestry workshop run by Else Halling in the middle of the 20th century, A/S Norsk Billedvev (A/S Norwegian Tapestry). When the essay was published in book form, it included more information on the loom, reprinted here with permission. Hoibø borrowed the loom from Per Hoelfeldt Lund, who wrote about its history. It’s interesting that Hoibø’s 21rst century tapestry is woven on the same loom used to weave reproductions of Renaissance-era historical Norwegian tapestries. 

It is a loom designed and built for the workshop A/S Norsk Billedvev and the workshop’s manager Else Halling. [From t]he Norwegian Museum of Decorative Arts and Design, where the director Thor B. Kielland, in the 1940s, established a workshop on the top floor of the museum building. 

Here reproductions were woven of our oldest textile treasures, and [tapestries were woven from] new cartoons by our leading artists for the decoration of Oslo City Hall and other commissions right up until the 1960s, when the workshop was closed down and Else Halling was awarded the King’s Medal of Merit for her outstanding work. 

When the workshop was to be emptied in 1967, my mother, Lily Hoelfeldt Lund, was asked if she could take care of the largest loom, in view of her links with the handweaving community and her production of yarn spun from the wool of spelsau sheep. I was studying in Oslo, and was dispatched to dismantle the loom, and I loaded it into Fuhr’s truck, which had delivered wine to the Wine Monopoly and otherwise would have driven empty to Grimstad. 

After several years in storage, we had extended our main building, so that we had a room of 645 sq.ft. (60 sq.m.) on the upper floor with plenty of space for the loom, which was put into use, initially for several years by my mother. 

Among other things, she wove a replica of Leonardo’s Last Supper, which was her gift to Eide Church following its restoration. Wenche, my wife, wove a number of exciting tapestries in the following years. 

And now we are lending it to the artist Ann Cathrin November Hoibø in connection with her commission for Norway’s new embassy in Washington, D.C. Source: Per Hoelfeldt Lund, 21 September 2020 

Ann Cathrin November Hoibø should be commended for her striking tapestry and her successful commission. And her interview is inspiring for tapestry weavers—to learn about her thoughts and weaving decisions while Dreams Ahead was underway. 

November 2022
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Impressionism in Tapestry: Translating Thoughts and Feelings with Thread

By Aino Kajaniemi

Aino Kajaniemi is an artist from Jyväskylä, Finland. Her bold and dramatic tapestries are often likened to sketching or a form of line etching with fibers. She graduated from the University of Art and Design in Helsinki, and her works have been shown in solo and collective shows throughout Europe. She was Finnish Artist of the Year in 2010.

PREFACE

Although Finland is renowned for woven textile traditions dating back centuries – including double weave and rya (knotted pile) – tapestry weaving in Finland has a much shorter history. It was not until the 1900 World Exhibition in Paris that tapestry weaving began to emerge in Finland. Research confirms that the only older historical tapestries found in Finland were actually Belgian and are now held in Turku Castle.

The 1900 World Exhibition marked an important breakthrough for Finnish textiles. Although Finland was still a part of Russia, Finnish weavers had their own pavilion, designed by noted architect Eliel Saarinen. The Finnish Pavilion provided important recognition to a country that dreamed of independence; that came in 1918. Akseli Gallen-Kallela, a famous Finnish painter, designed the textiles for the Finnish Pavilion. In his travels around Europe, he saw for the first time the tapestries of France and Italy. He returned to Finland and sent weavers from Friends of Finnish Handicraft to Norway to study tapestry weaving. In 1900, the first known Finnish tapestry was woven, in Art Nouveau style, ”Chickens from the Forest and Pine Saplings.”

“Chickens from Forest and Pine Saplings (detail),” 1900.

IMPRESSIONS IN TAPESTRY

Tapestry weaving has never been as popular in Finland as have other forms of weaving. I am part of a group of tapestry- focused artists that includes Inka Kivalo, Ariadna Donner, and Soili Hovila. We had a group exhibition at the Craft Museum of Finland in Jyväskylä in 2020, and will have an additional exhibition in Rovaniemi Art Museum in 2024.

I have woven tapestries for forty years. I attended weaving school for two years, and the experience provided a good career basis. As the saying goes, after you master the technique, you can forget it. I then studied at the University of Art and Design in Helsinki and graduated as a textile artist in 1983. At the time of my final examination, I showed my sketches to my teacher, and she said, “The only way to weave these is with tapestry.” She decided that the warp should be thin, strong, twisted linen at six ends per centimeter. When the loom was ready, she left me alone. I had to create the weaving myself.

I learned there are many rules in traditional tapestry weaving; you have to hide the warp, it is not allowed to wrap different threads together, or to mix threads. The weaving line must be horizontal. I heard all of this information later; nobody really taught me how to weave tapestry, and I am happy about that. My weaving is not traditional tapestry weaving. I think it can be described as impressionism in tapestry. I don’t know or care about rules but want to weave freely and quickly.

Aino Kajaniemi, “Growing,” 2019.

At the beginning of my career, I thought that an artist must learn to handle strong feelings and embrace the whole world in her artwork. I began to work as a full-time artist in 1990. My parents died and my second child was born that same year; my start as an artist happened when my life was affected by extreme opposites: birth and death. I had moved to my childhood home to take care of my parents and my family stayed there after they died.

My textiles are my way of thinking. I want to transform my thoughts and ideas into something concrete, so that I can understand them. In all art, you need your senses— sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch. The sense of touch has special richness in textile art. It is said that the sense of touch is the most emotional sense for humans. Textiles bring up memories through touch, through our skin.

When I was young, I had a lot of feelings inside me. I spent all of my energy working out my emotional life in my tapestries. The world of black and white seemed simpler, I didn’t want to add more emotion through colors. As I grew older, I could concentrate more on life outside me. Gradually, color appeared in my tapestries. When I use strong colors, I don’t want to tell a story in the work; color in itself includes messages. I feel that colors need a bigger space because they are full of energy. Adding color has brought more joy and light to my tapestries and to my life.

Aino Kajaniemi, “I’ll Take It,” 2022.

Weaving liturgical textiles also taught me to use colors. In the Evangelic Lutheran Church, we use five or six colors in church textiles: white, red, green, violet, black, and sometimes blue. I have woven liturgical textiles for seven churches and two chapels. Six of those were done with my tapestry technique.

It is good that we have many time concepts; we have the past and future, we have seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years. When I weave, I have to be present, but at same time I can be on another level—I can look back or I can plan new works. If your life is sad at that moment, you can move your mind to the future or the past. If your future or past scares you, it is better to concentrate on the present.

I work alone for many hours per day and yet a single second can be very important. Weaving is
a form of discovery; even though I have practiced this technique almost 40 years, I’m not in complete control of the threads. Chance has its role—for example when I weave a face, threads may position themselves so that a smile turns into sorrow, or anger becomes joy. One thread can change happiness to sadness.

Aino Kajaniemi, “Understanding,” 2019.

I often use textiles as symbols, such as laces, pleats, dresses, collars, socks, shoes, gloves, belt, hats, or scarves. All of these are personal, intimate items that evoke common memories. People see what they want to see in my tapestries. Once I spoke at an exhibition and said that I don’t handle erotica in my tapestries. That evening a visitor, a man, told me that my works are full of erotica!

I create finished sketches for all of my textiles before I begin to weave. I like to draw, and I like to weave. Weaving is about making decisions. How thick or thin should the threads be? Do I use single-color threads, or combine them to form different tones? Do I want the surface to be shiny or rough? Should I create effects using thicker materials? Do I want the warp threads to be packed so that the fabric is dense, or loose so that the texture of the tapestry stands out, and the fabric become almost transparent?

Nowadays I find all of my weft threads at flea markets, resulting in surprising tones and materials that appear in my color palette. I like variable surfaces and use them as a part of the story of a work. I like rough and smooth materials for the disagreement and discussion between them. I choose materials, colors, and tones as I weave.

Aino Kajaniemi. “Confidence,” 2014.

I have used linen, cotton, hemp, jute, sisal, nettle, viscose, acrylic, silk, wool, bamboo, bast, paper yarn and paper strip, horsehair and human hair, feathers, fishing line, metal wire, plastic strip and yarn, twig from a tree, birch bark, lurex, gold thread, and triacetate strips.

Flax is my favorite material: heckled flax in many thicknesses, tow flax, hand spun flax, and even unspun flax fiber. To me, silk represents luxury and the exotic, and wool suggests something homey.

When I want to add very thick material to a tapestry, I weave with ground weft for two or three passes and then pick every third warp thread from the open shed to insert the thick thread. In effect, the yarn is tied with one thread up and five threads under in one centimeter, so that it is tied down but doesn’t push the warp threads apart.

Because I use an upright loom and not a frame, I use treadles to avoid having to pick up leashes. This practice frees me to concentrate upon what matters—being expressive and the choices it requires. Sometimes I feel as if I am a part of my loom. The connection occurs in many ways. My feet treadle, my eyes watch, and my brain decides as my hands move through the threads.

Aino Kajaniemi. “Presence,” 2019.

I use butterflies or long thread pieces for weaving, and beat in the weft with an ordinary fork. During a big solo exhibition in 2015, my fork suddenly broke in two pieces. That exhibition was too much for it! I went to our kitchen and found another fork.

In my childhood family, there were five girls, and three of us are artists. One is a painter, the other is a photographer, and I am a textile artist. We have had many exhibitions together. Another lovely family experience has been working with my daughter; we have had six exhibitions together!

I am happy that I have found weaving as my life’s work. No other technique contains such rich history and is recognizable all over the world.

See more of Aino Kajaniemi’s work here.
2022
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Playfulness and Joy in my Atelier

By Inka Kavalo

Inka Kivalo (b. 1956) is a Finnish textile artist. After her MA studies at the University of Art and Design Helsinki, Kivalo went on to showcase her work both internationally and in Finland. Today, her work can be found in several art collections around the world.

I weave tapestries, and sometimes create animal and human shaped sculptures. For my own pleasure, I weave scarfs with plant dyed or undyed yarn. I embroider large necklaces, often adding silver or other metals. In other words; I weave, embroider, knit, appliqué and stitch. 

I am inspired by traditional textiles: the materials, fine technical properties and aesthetics. Weaving is affected by the rigidity of the loom, which one has to overcome. That is why ethnic textiles are often so spectacular, as they allow imagination to be unleashed.

My two hundred year old loom, made of the roots of spruce trees, is like a sculpture. The techniques I use are age-old; through my techniques and materials I preserve old traditions. I preserve and reform. This is how I justify my work to myself.

I enjoy making handicrafts, and became a textile artist because the blaze of colors is softer in textiles. I try to make life more beautiful.

Weaving requires you to put your heart into it, and it demands patience. It is also a manifestation of playfulness and joy, as the technical act of weaving is not substantial; vision is. I am my own handwriting. I reflect myself and then start the work.

I feel attracted to materials, because I need them, and they dictate the nature of what can be done.

Everything starts from a thread. I create a new yarn from multiple fine threads. Amidst thin cotton or silk threads there might be a golden thread, or an inherited one. I collect threads and yarns. One of my works is named after a poem by Kirsti Simonsuuri called “Väreilee kuin lanka” (“Ripples like a thread”).

My woven artworks are like windows to colorful worlds. They do not express anything straightforwardly, they just hint at the right direction, unveiling the atmosphere.

Inka Kivalo. Big Miniature, 2008. Photo: Johnny Korkman

To inspire my work, I often choose a palette of new and fascinating color tones. I might think – should I use the golden colors of Lassila’s farm rooster? Should I use the purples of a thunderstorm? 

Inka Kivalo. Revoir, 2022. Photo: Chikako Hirada

The weave itself is the theme of my work. I work with a simple plain weave by manipulating it. Afterwards I might appliqué or stitch the fabric with some surplus material. I do it in such a manner that the end result will be vaguely spontaneous-looking and richer, and that the slow work process would lead to a liberating finale.

I often use a framework theme; in a way I look inwards and outwards. It is, on one hand, about the feeling of safety, framing and human edges, but then, the patterns can also float on the surface, respecting no boundaries.

Once in a while I make sculptures. Initially they were elephants, sheep, and horses; later I made stylized human figures and heads. The role of my sculptures has always been the role of being an audience in the exhibition hall. 

Inka Kivalo. “Towards Something Else,” 2020. Photo: Chikako Hirada

Recently I added embroidery to my sculptures. With embroidery the textile sculptures become more about the surface than just their form. It is possible to embroider layers upon layers on top of the surface.

Inka Kivalo. “Dark Lady,” 2018. Photo: Chikako Hirada

When I was young I used to paint and take part in exhibitions for young artists. I felt like I was a painter. That was the background for my textile print designs. My drafts were painted in a factory hall on a finished fabric, so they were easy to put on display in planning meetings.

Printed textiles were my material in numerous museum exhibitions in the late 1980s. I built installations by sewing fabrics together and framing them. I created walls, houses, projections of windows and doors, a labyrinth of mirrors and edges; with names like Hotel Giorno; House and Garden;  and The Sun Was Shining, If I Remember Correctly… 

I began to make scarves and necklaces, at first only for myself. Scarves are more than just scarves. They are a study of the rhythm of stripes, colors and hues. My scarves feature braided trimmings and a thin stripe which continues over the edges as a braid. I use Finnish plant-dyed or natural sheep wool. 

At first I knitted scarves from natural thread, like the darker shades of black and grey sheep wool. I aimed for an architectural and ethnic character. Later I met an artisan at a marketplace who was selling plant-dyed yarn that was dyed in a creative manner, with blurred hues and multiple dyes. What a blissful feeling when you find an inspirational material!

There is a curious feature when embroidering necklaces; I get away from the stillness of the loom to the fluidity of necklace making. The most important tools for embroidering are rather simple: a thread, a needle, a fabric, and possibly, a small, round embroidery hoop. My necklaces always become quite large, because the size is relative to the way I sew.

A tapestry, a sculpture, a fabric installation, a scarf or a necklace—each one is a mirror into the world I see, feel, and experience. 

See more of Inka Kival’s unique tapestry work here.
2022
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Book Review: Vivian Høxbro’s Knitting Handbook: 8 Schools of Modular Knitting

By Mary Skoy

I first encountered Vivian Høxbro’s clever approach to knitting in her book Domino Knitting (Interweave Press 2002).  That book pushed the boundaries of my understanding of how knitting worked as it explored the interaction of shapes connected to shapes—“modular knitting.”   

I dutifully followed the instructions to learn the domino knitting techniques and ended up with a collection of swatches that doubled as pot holders. I became an immediate fan of Vivian Høxbro when she wrote, ”There is no getting away from the fact that domino knitting is slower but who says that we have to knit quickly?  We knit for the enjoyment today, don’t we?  Who wants something fun to end quickly?  Not I!” She also said: “Be kind to yourself—only the best equipment is good enough.”

In her latest book, Danish knitting expert Høxbro goes beyond domino knitting and explores space and shape in other kinds of modular knitting.  Vivian Høxbro‘s Knitting Handbook: 8 Schools of Modular Knitting is Høxbro’s compilation of techniques and projects for eight different types of modular knitting. Once again, you can learn the techniques by knitting carefully explained swatches which are large enough to be put to use.

Vivian Høxbro’s Knitting Handbook: 8 Schools of Modular Knitting by Vivian Høxbro.  Published by Trafalgar Square Books (April 19, 2022)        ISBN-13: 9781646011353.

The book is divided into 8 “schools” or categories of modular knitting arranged by shape. School 1 is Stripes 2 Squares, 3 Tri-Squares, 4 Right Angles, 5 Staircases, 6 Zigzag, 7 Shells, and 8 Circles. Each “school” comprises 10-14 pages of row by row instructions illustrated with step-by-step photos of the knitting in progress.

An example of Høxbro’s excellent illustrations: the “zig-zag school.”

The directions are clearly written and Høxbro seems to anticipate questions that might arise in the knitting. For example, she tell us: “Just before a color change the edge stitches are very, very small, so here you have to be especially careful when the needle is inserted into the join. You can enlarge the edge stitch with the needle tip and can maintain control if the stitch and ridge count coincide”  (p. 29). This is helpful information for both a beginning knitter and an experienced knitter.

Following each of the eight techniques are patterns for two projects using the technique just presented. Among the projects are patterns to create scarves, shawls, vests, sweaters, and pillow covers. As is always the case in books with patterns, some are appealing and some are not so great. I loved the Shell Top (pictured on the book cover) and was not so fond of the Boomerang Shawl. Of course, that’s very much personal taste. But each pattern is thoroughly explained and well-illustrated.   

Boomerang shawl. Photo taken from the author’s website, viv.dk

The last section of the book is Techniques and Edgings. Here, she illustrates picking up stitches, short rows, changing color in stripes, and weaving in ends. She includes clear photos of i-cord, ribbed, and garter stitch edgings. 

These instructions may not be necessary for an experienced knitter, but  including them makes the book a handy reference for knitters at all levels of experience. She illustrates a way to mark decreases and increases by adding a small rubber band to the stitch to keep track and to make counting easier. This was new to me and a good tip. 

The book welcomes us into the world of Vivian Høxbro’s knitting. She writes in the introduction: “I have never been a fan of the cast on 385 stitches and knit around to the underarms. etc.  …I’d rather be entertained and challenged, and create something you could never find in a store.  I like the knitting process. If you feel that way or you’d like a change of pace from your usual patterns, then this book is for you” (p. 8).

Høxbro suggests spending “a few evenings studying each school, preferably with your knitting friends,  It’s always great to work together so you can help each other.” She writes as if she is speaking to us, inviting us along on this knitting adventure.  

Her stated goal is for knitters to use the book to play and experiment further. She has given us the tools and inspiration we need.

Vivian Høxbro has worked as a knitwear designer for over 35 years, both self-employed and for yarn companies. She has written 12 knitting books, some of which have been published in Norway, Japan, and the USA-including Traditional Danish Sweaters, published in 2019 by Trafalgar Square Books. Since then, she has taught and given lectures in Scandinavia, as well as in the USA and Japan, and is working to make  Denmark’s first knitting museum in Stubbekøbing a reality. Vivian currently resides in Stubbekøbing, Denmark.

Vivian Høxbro‘s Knitting Handbook: 8 Schools of Modular Knitting by Vivian Høxbro.  Published by Trafalgar Square Books (April 19, 2022)        ISBN-13: 9781646011353.

Mary Skoy is a Minnesota-based knitting and weaving instructor who kindly took time from her Christmas gift knitting marathon to share these thoughts.
Help support wonderful articles on Scandinavian textiles with a donation to the Norwegian Textile Letter. Thank you! Tusen takk! 

Nordic Notes

Historian and artist Steph Anderson presented an hour-long exploration of Viking era clothing and jewelry in a webinar from Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum, Viking Era Clothing and Jewelry. From tunics and cloaks to arm rings, necklaces, and brooches, Vikings dressed according to sex, age, and economic status. Steph is deeply knowledgeable and clearly passionate about her topic; she spoke for an hour, but clearly could have talked much longer (and I would have listened).

Webinar screen shot

Hannele Köngas, a Finnish Weaver

Hannele Köngas features naturally dyed, hand-woven Finnish wool on her beautiful site, Waveweaver’s Wool. Don’t miss the page featuring her throws to see amazing arrays of color.  I loved watching a video of her dyeing process. Even though it is only in Finnish, you can follow her dyeing with woad; it felt like a cliffhanger – what colors will emerge?

From the Waveweaver’s Wool website: https://www.waveweaverswool.fi/exhibitions/

Interviews and Articles from The Vessel Magazine

From Norwegian Crafts: “This year we celebrate Norwegian Crafts’ 10th anniversary! In 2012 the organisation was founded by the Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts (NK). Two years prior to this, NK had started Norwegian Crafts Magazine, an online magazine with the main purpose to promote the activities of Norwegian craft artists internationally…On the occasion of Norwegian Crafts’ 10th anniversary, we have published a special issue of The Vessel titled Norwegian Craft Magazine Revisited. The issue presents a selection of 45 interviews and articles on craft written by 32 contributors, all of which have been previously published on Norwegian Crafts’ website or as part of Norwegian Crafts Magazine.”

Be sure to check out the Textile Art collection of articles in the special issue. There is also a Discover page to find articles that have been published over the years: It includes a tag specifically for weaving. The feature photo below is from “Hannah Ryggen’s Popularity.”

Virtual Lecture on Norwegian Woven Bands

Join folk artist Kathleen Almelien as she explains the use of symbols in bandweaving, the “emojis” of their time. The online lecture, “Symbols in Bandweaving: The Emojis of Traditional Handcraft with Kathleen Almelien,” is available on the Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum YouTube channelAlmelien highlights her own bands as well as those in Vesterheim’s collection and draws parallels with the symbols used in other traditional Norwegian handcrafts. Woven bands played an important role in traditional Norwegian clothing. Used to close or support clothing (the way we use zippers, buttons, and snaps), they also added beauty and interest to clothing. Additionally, the symbols woven into the band communicated that the person came from a particular area of Norway and imbued the band with meaning to the wearer.

Exhibits

Evocative embroidery fills the galleries at the Galleri Dropsfabrikken in Trondheim from October 29-November 22, 2022, in Kari Steihaug – Potetbøtta og parfymen [Kari Steihaug: Potato Buckets and Perfume]. From the introduction:

In Kari Steihaug’s art, the overlooked plays a major role. That which has been set aside, the unfinished and the worn, is lovingly brought to light.

The materials she has worked with include worn clothing, faded curtains, discarded blankets, unfinished knitting projects, and bits of glass from the beach. She takes them, or brings them forth, and puts them together in new combinations. By embracing the imperfect the work becomes a counterweight to our time’s galloping consumer culture. (translated by Robbie LaFleur)

Photo taken from the Dropsgallieret website.

Articles about Weaving

In case you need a reminder about the wonderful textile collection at Vesterheim Norwegian American Museum, here is a short article that appeared in Handwoven magazine several years ago, in 2015. I though it was worth revisiting, partly because of a photo of a tavlebragd weaving (monks belt) with black as the background color. It was woven in the mid-1800s, but looks as modern as today. Read “A Link to the Past,” by Anita Osterhaug.

 

Have you seen Landskap, this monumental tapestry in the Parliament building in Oslo? Norwegian weaving instructor Ingebjørg Monsen once commented that it is on television more than any other tapestry in Norway, as it hangs outside the chambers, where TV reporters stand and wait for interviews with legislators. Read about the artist, Syssel Blystad, in “Norway’s Goddess of Modern-Day Textile Arts” by Victoria Hofmo, The Norwegian American, July 29, 2021 (Updated Oct. 18, 2021).

 

Viking Women

Viking women are featured on the cover of Scientific American: “The Power of Viking Women,” Scientific American, October 2022, pp. 28-35. The article is also available online.

Nille Glæsel from Tønsberg, Norway, has been researching Viking clothing for years, and she was recently tapped to work on the costuming for Robert Egger’s Viking-themed movie, The Northman.” Read more about Glæsel and the weaving-related references in the movie in this blog post of mine, “Authentic Viking Clothing in The Northman.”

Does Nicole Kidman understand what she is doing, or just moving the cards? A fuzzy screen shot from “The Northman.”

A Non-Textile Film

This short film featured on the New York Times Op-Docs site is so well done: Svonni v. the Swedish Tax Agency, by Maria Fredriksson, October 18, 2022. Will Svonni be able to convince the Swedish tax authorities that her dog is a legitimate tax deduction, necessary to the care of her reindeer?

Screenshot from Svonni v. the Swedish Tax Agency

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VikingGold: Weaving History and Fashion Together

By Tone Skårdal Tobiasson

Fashion met cultural history in the project VikingGull [VikingGold], and the two were woven together into a beautiful wool fabric that found its way to museum exhibits and Norwegian national TV as the most sustainable fabric of the future. 

During the annual event Oslo Runway, the Norwegian actress Iselin Shumba debuted as a catwalk model on a runway set up in a factory deep in the Norwegian forests close to the Swedish border. By chance I was at the event. By chance I was wearing the Oleana jacket I had worn on Norwegian national TV for the episode of Norway’s Sewing Bee (Symesterskapet) when Iselin Shumba was the “client” who wanted a jacket or coat she could wear on chilly days when she does her weekly “sit in for the climate” in front of the Parliament building in Oslo. She wanted the fabric to be “the most sustainable possible”, which was why the Norwegian national TV had called me. I’ll come back to that. 

Iselin Shumba at a weekly sit-in for climate change in front of the Norwegian Pariament, wearing her coat of sustainable wool.

Let’s unravel the threads back in time and explore what fascinates people with the fabric.

The story starts with the project Valuing Norwegian Wool, led by Consumption Research Norway, before they became part of Oslo Metropolitan University, and financed by the Norwegian Research Council. One of the aims of the project was to explore a label of origin for Norwegian wool. “Norwool” had been trademarked by a Swedish company, an American outerwear company had done the same with “Norwegian Wool”. In addition, a Norwegian yarn company selling cheap Chinese-spun wool of uncertain origin called their product Viking Yarn.

To our big surprise, we discovered that one of the sponsors of the British-based Campaign for Wool was “Viking Wool of Norway.” The label was even owned by a subsidiary of the Norwegian farmers’ coop, Nortura. Why hadn’t they as project-partners informed us? The truth was rather obvious. The label was ugly as sin. It had been developed in the UK to sell carpet-wool, and as such, worked well. But for wool textiles and fashion?  Curtis Wool Direct, who had developed the “Viking Wool from Norway” label, did everything in their power to launch it in Norway, including enlisting now King Charles, then the Prince of Wales, but Nortura put their foot down. Luckily.

However, this resulted in an idea, when the opportunity arose to apply for funding from KreaNord, a fund under the auspices of the Nordic Council of Ministers for cultural projects. What if we lifted up the cultural textile heritage from the Vikings, looking at the Viking women’s role in this trader and explorer culture, later explored by Michele Hayeur Smith in “The Valkyries’ Loom: The Archeology of Cloth Production and Female Power in the North Atlantic?” This was the historic beauty and heritage we highlighted in the application, and which won the funding. We decided to call the project VikingGold.

In the project there were several partners: Consumption Research Norway (Oslo Metropolitan University), the Museum of Cultural History (University of Oslo), Nordic Initiative Clean & Ethical Fashion, and the Norwegian Fashion Institute, who took the lead. The project lasted from the autumn of 2013 until the autumn of 2015. However, VikingGold had long-term impact that was hard to envision from the outset. 

Important for the project was to create meeting points for historical expertise, raw material suppliers, and the finished goods industry and designers. These represented people and groups who had not earlier cooperated. Representatives from the industry and designers got access to historical archives and got to see preserved textiles from the Viking age, and gain knowledge about the Vikings’ clothing and textile production. Marianne Vedeler, the archaeologist in the project, was simultaneously working on a reconstruction of the tunic from Lendbreen, Norway’s oldest garment from around year 300 AD, and we chose this as a starting-point. The tunic is about 500 years older than the Viking age, but diamond twill, the weaving-pattern, was widely used in the Viking age as well. The selected tunic was thoroughly examined and well documented, and this made it possible for us to be able to show both a reconstruction (described here) and our industrially produced fabric at the same time. Our collaborators, from sheep farmers to designers, were involved in the decision-making process and the discussions themselves, and were important for enhancing competence and understanding of what compromises must be made when a historical material is to be produced in a modern way.

The wool

We had to choose a breed living in Norway today. For the reconstruction, Old Norwegian (Gammelnorsk) sheep wool was used, while the VikingGold project used Old Norse Spæl (or spelsau) and Modern Spæl (short-tailed) to get two different shades. Ingvild Espelien at Selbu Spinneri [Selbu Spinning Mill] took responsibility for collecting 200 kilos of wool from two local herds. She also sorted the wool into two shades and cleaned it, and separated some of the coarser guard hairs out of the fleeces.

Old Norse Breed sheep grazing on the island of Frøya. Photo: Jan Broda/WOOLUME project)

A modern Spæl (short-tailed) sheep

Spinning

Half of the wool was sent to Hillesvåg Ullvarefabrikk [Hillesvåg Wool Spinnery], to spin the weft yarn. Selbu Spinning Mill spun the warp yarn, and both were spun with a z twist, though the weft was a little looser spun. The thickness of the yarn corresponded to 6 nm (a metric measurement of yarn size), as 7 nm was on the border of what the machines could spin. This may appear as a minor detail, however the trade-off between being closest to the original yarn in the tunic, and getting a good raw-material with the wool and the technology we have today, was important. 

The yarn from Hillesvåg Spinnery, before it was woven.

Weaving

Ingvild sent the warp yarn first to Krivi Vev, and in order for the yarn in the weft to be as compatible as possible, it was weighed before Hillesvåg started their spinning. No one at Krivi Vev had seen the original fabric, and worked from drawings and pictures in order to set up the pattern and density. A characteristic of older textiles is often a lack of symmetry in the patterns. Krivi Vev chose to clean up the pattern a little, and also chose to distribute darker and lighter portions evenly in the weave to counteract clear stripe patterns. The yarn initially seemed more difficult to weave than it actually was. The actual weaving of the 200 meters therefore went quickly and easily. (See this video.)

Weaving at Krivi Vev

Finishing

Krivi Vev has no finishing facilities at their mill in Tingvoll, Norway, and usually sends their fabrics to Sweden for these types of processes. However, Sjølingstad Uldvarefabrik – Vest-Agder-museet [Sjølingstad Wool Spinnery at the Vest Agder Museum] assumed responsibility for the last finishing. Although the fabric was a bit too wide for their machine, this went well. We chose a very simple and easy finish, although some of the designers had requested a felted, waulked or fulled fabric (see below for how this will now be resolved). For anyone who had seen the fabric before and after treatment, it was striking how much softer and smoother the finished fabric was than when it was newly woven. 

The “finished” fabric on the left is smoother and softer than the newly-woven fabric (right).

Design

Parallel to the actual fabric production, a design competition was announced for a select group of Norwegian and Icelandic designers, and the invited sketches were then displayed as part of the Ta det personlig [Take it personally] exhibition at the Historisk Museum  [Historical Museum] in Oslo, where both the original Lendbreen tunic, the reconstruction of the tunic, and VikingGold were presented with sketches from five Norwegian and two Icelandic designers. Among these, we picked out three – Sissel Strand, Connie Riiser Berger and Elisabeth Stray Pedersen–who got several meters of fabric and sewed outfits that were shown during the Oslo Wool Day in 2015. These were also shown at an exhibition at the Kystmuseet i Sogn og Fjordane [Coastal Museum in Sogn and Fjordane] in Florø, “Tradition and trend: Norwegian wool in all times.”

From the exhibit at the Historic Museum in Oslo, where the results from the VikingGold challenge were showcased, alongside the tunic from the Lendbreen glacier.

In addition, two designers designed specific items using the fabric, Malin Håvarstein and Rebeca Herlung. Kim Holte dyed some of the material blue for her Viking re-enactment, and both Ingun Klepp and Ingvild Espelien have sewn dresses using the fabric. 

A jacket detail: Designer Malin Håvarstein played with the VikingGold material in a modern context

Krivi Vev wove a similar fabric afterwards with ordinary crossbred wool, and designer Marianne Mørck made a collection using this material. Also, the furniture producer Nuen has made a series of chairs with this same fabric. They have adopted a fibershed approach, which means they source their materials within a given radius. 

A Nuen chair with fabric woven by Krivi Vev from wool spun at Hillesvåg Wool Spinnery. Photo from the beautiful catalog featured at en.nuen.no.

TV fame

After the project ended, rolls of the fabric were left over. What should be done with these? During 2020, I was contacted by the Norwegian national broadcaster, NRK, who had the production rights for the British reality-concept show, Sewing Bee. They had decided that the focus for the up-coming season would be sustainability, and one of the episodes would look at the “most sustainable fabric of the future.” They clearly envisioned a “new-gen” material, and wondered if perhaps fungi or waste from agriculture could be the feed-stock for such a material. They had already tried to get hold of materials, but had failed miserably. My suggestion was to use the VikingGold leftovers, and to turn the story-telling around into a new discourse that said “how the most sustainable fabric is not science-fiction, but rather reinventing the past”. 

NRK loved the twist.

So, a few months later I found myself on the reality show set. I explained to the contestants, the three celebrities hosting the show, and “the client” Iselin Shumba about the sheep, the wool, the process and the fabric – and why it is the epitome of sustainability. All the contestants received a piece of the fabric to practice sewing, as some of the designers we had worked with  said the material took some getting used to and offered some resistance. When the show aired a year later, the fantastic results rolled across the TV screen. The winning coat/jacket was chosen by Shumba, who posted pictures of her wearing it over and over again on Instagram. Which, of course, made it even more sustainable.

However, I didn’t hear how happy Iselin Shumba was with her sustainable VikingGold jacket until much later, when she debuted as a catwalk-model at the Oslo Runway show a year later. “I wear it all the time and I get so many compliments for that jacket!” Iselin Shumba exclaimed after the runway show, when she saw me and recognized the Oleana-jacket I wore during the Sewing Bee show. “And when I tell them the story about the jacket and the material, people are just mesmerized!” 

Iselin Shumba in her VikingGold jacket.

Latest development

During a conference at Selbu Spinning mill in October 2022, an American student from Rauland Academy for Traditonal Art and Folk Music presented work with fulling (or waulking) textiles with old techniques. We decided, rather on a whim, to send him 10 meters of the VikingGold material to experiment with. He will be doing both “foot-fulling” and a trial with a wooden box he has reconstructed from old instructions, and will document this for further research. 

How Iselin Shumba chose to use social media to promote climate change, and to highlight cultural sustainability, is stellar. This discourse continues in ongoing projects by the Clothing Research Group (SIFO) at Oslo Metropolitan University: CHANGE: Environmental systems shift in clothing consumption, and Wasted Textiles, a project to reduce the use of synthetic textiles and the amount that goes to waste.

Tone Skårdal Tobiasson is an author and journalist, and a board member of the Union of Concerned Researchers in Fashion. She is a co-editor, with Ingun Grimstad Klepp, of the recently-published e-book, Local, Slow and Sustainable Fashion Wool as a Fabric for Change. Palgrave Macmillan, 2022. https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-3-030-88300-3

The author giving a talk in Sweden, wearing her VikingGold coat designed by Elisabeth Stray Pedersen

November 2022

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