NORWEGIAN TEXTILE LETTER
Vol. IX No. 1, November, 2002

A SOJOURN IN TELEMARK
by Lila Nelson

My intent from the moment of signing up for the course Artisan Clothing: Weaving and Design in Vadmel, to be held June 25-July 5, 2002, in Vinje, Telemark, Norway, was to engage in a serious study of vadmel, experience the actual production of a piece of vadmel, and then to document the entire process as carefully as possible. This article was to share that documentation through the NORWEGIAN TEXTILE LETTER.

But adhering to those rigid academic boundaries would actually have given an incomplete, arid, and even inaccurate account of what was a marvelous and unforgettable immersion in the richness of past and present traditions in Vinje, Telemark. My vadmel documentation is therefore going to be like the description of a grand feast, with vadmel being one of many courses contributing to the noble banquet.

As described by Carol Colburn, Professor in Theatre and Costume Design at the University of Northern Iowa in Cedar Falls, the workshop would include planning a garment, weaving the necessary yardage and putting it through the stampa (stamping mill) to produce vadmel, and then fitting, cutting, and sewing the garment. Carol's professionalism was immediately evident as through correspondence with individual participants, she guided each in deciding the nature of her garment and eventually providing early sketches and helpful suggestions. Then decisions were made regarding weight of wool (local wool from the spelsau sheep would be used for warp and weft), color choices for materials, possible trims, and lining. Later, from measurements provided by each participant, Carol made muslin patterns for fitting and cutting guides.

Seven participants arrived in accordance with their respective schedules. For most people this included a comfortable four-hour bus ride from Oslo to Vinje through a landscape of green forests, farms, and winding lupine-lined roads, the bus climbing gradually toward the distant snow-topped mountains. At Vinje, 550 meters above sea level, we were met by car and whisked off to Vesaas farm, the location of our workshop and living quarters.

The Vesaas name goes back several hundred or more years in Telemark history, and Olav Vesaas, the present farm owner, is a direct descendant. Vesaas people were distinguished poets, historians, and craftsmen; Olav carries on the illustrious reputation in his production of the highest quality traditional Telemark jewelry, which he creates in his studio in the main house. His wife Eli is an accomplished weaver, an excellent teacher, a skilled manager of the weaving studio in which we worked, and above all a warm, generous, and welcoming hostess.

The present farm is fully operational with around 40 spelsau sheep, and also supplies the community with smoked lamb sausage, which Olav smokes with damp juniper branches in one of the ancient log storage buildings on the farm. Living and weaving in this historic atmosphere was indeed like walking on hallowed ground.

Most of us lived in old but internally modernized and comfortable buildings on the farm. On the edge of the surrounding woods, a salt lick visible with binoculars provided us a view of the moose who quite regularly stopped by, a reminder of the 2 deer, foxes, and other wild life sharing the area with us. The old sheep barn's totally updated and outfitted second floor was our workshop location. The looms were primarily modern countermarch Scandinavian, some of which had been loaned temporarily by weavers in the community.

Our first evening set the pattern of warmth and hospitality which enveloped us throughout our stay. Locally baked bread in a wood trough and fish soup from a monumental tureen on the long trestle table with tea served in the dining room of the main house was followed by an introductory walk around the area, and culminated in a festive dinner at the nearby summer home of Ingebjorg Vaagen, a native Telemarken who would work with Eli and also, as official Husflid consultant on crafts for the Telemark region, would provide background information regarding the history and traditions of the area. As she shared her broad knowledge of her home region, she also exhibited a contagious and an unabashed pride in everything Telemark that made her a skilled representative in official circles as well as a delight to us.

A loose pattern was established on Monday morning. After making our breakfast we met in the studio at 9:00 a.m. for an introduction by Ingebjorg, located the looms assigned to each student, and worked until a late morning tea break, followed by weaving until lunch, an afternoon tea break, dinner at 6:00 and continued evening work in the studio. Interesting extra activities, studio visitors, or simply the lure of the natural beauty around us often added variety to that daily schedule.

The chosen warp yarns had been wound on warp beams for us, the modern Scandinavian looms ranging from Finnish Karelias and a Berga-Savonia to a Norwegian Tele-flid from the Seljord area. Some were provided temporarily by weavers in the community. The one old loom, an ingenious creation by a Vesaas ancestor, was used only by Eli and is described in detail in a separate article by Janet Meany. For every participant and the three teachers, each of us provided a final record of our specific garment, which included warp, weft, and lining materials, warp length and width before and after weaving, reed measurements, weaving pattern, weight before stamping, length of stamping time, and measurements after stamping.

In addition, participants shared samples of the lining, of all yardage both before and after stamping, and butterflies of each yam used. Warp and weft were two-ply spelsau wool and the linings a Thai silk from California provided by Carol Colburn in a variety of colors. The warp lengths averaged 8 meters, woven length about 7 1/2 meters, width about .80 meters before and .75 meters after weaving. Through stamping, the material lost about one meter in length and 10 centimeters in width. Reeds were primarily 50/10 set at 1/1. The weaving patterns were a 3/1 twill with the exception of a 2/2 pattern for Janet Meany. Apparently 2/2 was traditionally considered a good weave for trousers because of its strength while 2/1 was a choice when shedding moisture was a factor, as in jackets, and 3/1 was chosen when pleasing draping was desirable. The stamping length varied but averaged about an hour. It was decided to limit the stamping time in order to produce a material that would lend itself to modern clothing; traditional material, especially for outer garments, was probably considerably more stiff and tight.

A break in the routine developed already on the first day, when shopping in a well-stocked Vinje market provided breakfast and lunch supplies for our kitchen. Fine quality fruits and vegetables were plentiful; we included Norwegian staples such as a variety of herrings, gjetost (goat cheese), and lefse, the fish supply later augmented by a fish vendor who visited the farm with shrimp, lox, and fish cakes. Ingebjorg also felt that we should see the Oleana sweater shop with its superb examples of that company's modern sweaters based on the earliest of sweater styles in Norway.

Our evening meals were generally provided at nearby Mjonoy Handicraft and Cultural Center, owned by a Vinje foundation, which included cabins, a bakery, cafe, conference facilities, exhibition areas; and, of major import to us, it was the locale of the mountain stream on whose banks the stampa was located.

At this point we had only a brief glimpse after dinner of a small open wood hut, a large water wheel beside it, and a long sluice for diverting part of the flowing water when needed. The water wheel obviously powered the device which activated vertical boards that pounded the wool, but we had no time to examine the specific stamping mechanism more carefully.

Our dinner site was one of the log structures with the usual high entry step and low door typical of the old buildings. A fireplace gave welcome in the cooling evening air as did the wood trestle table and benches which held us all plus our three teachers and various casual guests. This evening we were welcomed by songs from Mjonoy's director Ellen Nordstoga and her young granddaughter. Our meal, served family style, was wholesome and delicious, including products raised in the area and baked along with the breads in the huge oven of an adjoining building. This evening it was lamb sausage,mashed rutabagas, boiled potatoes, cream sauce, tomato salad, fruit juice, and, for dessert, a crepe-wrapped sauteed banana with huckleberry sauce. Returning to the farm, we worked long enough to sley our reeds and be prepared to start weaving the next morning.

Ingebjorg's introductory remarks covered the sparse nature of information about vadmel. The only book is TRADITION OCH FORNYELSE (1992. ISBN 91-971045-4-X) by Swedish author Kerstin Gustafsson who Ingebjorg surmised might be willing to come to America. Evidently Gustafsson had researched existing stampa, for she considered the example at Mjonoy to be the best one remaining. Dating back at least to the 17th century, stampa had evidently been a common sight near mountain fed streams. Prior to that time, stamping was done with the feet. The impression received was that modern efforts to reproduce the early stampa had been less than successful. One which dates from 1750 is said to be in the Eidsborg Museum collection, but there is no nearby water source to activate it.

After two days of fairly concentrated weaving, we felt ourselves developing a hoped-for rhythm and control, and we cautiously entertained hope of actually being ready for the historic stamping to occur on Saturday, June 28, as scheduled. (Some participants, already skilled production weavers, were confident from the start, but I was not among that number.)

Fortunately, a cooperative rather than competitive spirit was present from the very beginning, and helping hands from both teachers and other participants were always extended when needed. Ingebjorg, for example, was christened the bobbin lady because she kept us supplied much of the time. Little sheepskin pads were mercifully available when bench fatigue hit. Brief respites of coffee, tea, and tasty treats by Eli broke many morning and afternoon sessions. Nature also cooperated; simply walking outside to look up at the high hills and not-distant mountains with areas of visible snow, or to admire the wild flowers growing everywhere was a rejuvenating exercise.

Carol Colburn was to play a similar helpful role, but she was forced into temporary solitude by an allergy which affected her throat and demanded complete silence. So she worked on muslin patterns and was able to take over when her expertise was demanded for the sewing of our garments during the last week. To reward our efforts late Thursday afternoon, Eli appeared with tea and Norwegian vaffler (waffles) which we ate at the outdoor picnic table.

Then well fortified, we were driven to the foot of a respectably challenging hill and a tree and flower-lined dirt path which led to Vinje Billedgalleri, a severe stone structure looking nearly like a natural outcropping in the surrounding forest. It is a shrine to the artists Henrik Sorensen and Harald Kihie who lived and painted in Vinje nearly every summer from 1927 to 1961. The gallery is devoted exclusively to their works, which reflect the rich color, rugged terrain and austere life that drew them back to the area. Situated at the entrance to Smorklepp Valley, it was built by local craftsmen under the direction of Sven Sorensen, who donated it to Vinje township upon its completion in 1991. Used also as a community center, we heard a violinist and a female stev singer as well as a homily from the local minister. Back at Mjonoy during our evening meal, a man of ninety plus years told us stories of the area and sang old songs. From him we learned something of the wood Vinje church built on the site of a dismantled 12th century stave church. Olav Vesaas' mother had helped paint the church interior. We were not able to see that interior, but we noted the large graveyard around the church and the Vesaas names on many stones.

Friday, June 28, marked a day of individual and communal jubilation as at various times each weaver reached the end of her warp and, with cameras flashing, ceremoniously cut her weaving off the loom. At a cleared path along the floor for the entire length of the room each piece was carefully measured, examined, photographed, admired back and front and then rolled up for its transport to the stampa the next morning.

A still silent but smiling Carol did my fitting of her muslin pattern. I will have a long tabard-like garment in muted gray tones for wear over black slacks and warm colorful turtle-neck sweaters. It will be below calf length with closures only at waist front, sleeveless with high slits at sides and back. Other weavers were choosing jackets of varied lengths with differing neck and sleeve treatments as well as closures and trims. Other color choices will also be evident, ranging from reds to blues and browns.

Saturday arrived sunny and rainless as we carried the rolls of woven cloth to IngebJ0rg's car trunk and then to the stampa site. We were augmented for the first time by male helpers, the owner of the stampa and also Eli's husband Olav. They had opened the sluice gates and heated a good supply of water in a huge iron tub for wetting the wool. Though the healthily moving stream looked active enough to power the water wheel, an auxiliary motor was on hand and was indeed put to use at some later part of the stamping process.

Eli and Ingebjorg carefully layered the yards of cloth one on the other into the two deep troughs, soaked them with the steaming water, and then the stampa was activated. The turning water wheel set in motion a beam with heavy wood projections which in turn forced vertical action from projections on the wood walls that moved the solid stamping boards to slide forcefully down on the cloth beneath. Stepped cuts in the base of the four stamping boards caused the cloth to rotate slowly. This action was constantly and closely monitored by Ingebjorg, Eli, and the men. The cloth sometimes rotated unevenly or tended toward spilling over the trough edges; then it was cautiously prodded back with a long pole, or action stopped to allow refolding of the cloth.

This action was also monitored by Carol, seven intent and fascinated students, and by three Telemark newsmen. On the scene early was Stein Olav Lie for his first major assignment after a career change led him to journalism and the Vest-Telemark Blad. He covered this one with enthusiasm equaling our own and thereafter became a welcome onlooker who followed our
continued progress through to the final day of modeling the completed garments. The other two perhaps more blase veterans represented Varden, Telemark's major paper, and focused primary interest on the 150 year-old loom back on Vesaas farm.

The stamping process varied in length from under an hour to nearly two for the various pieces, averaging about sixty minutes. Each piece was first hung briefly, dripping, over a beam. Then care was taken at all points in the entire important drying process to keep the warp and weft in alignment. Each was carefully and evenly rolled over and around a series of dowels
on a wood rack, culminating on the top roller, where it was carefully smoothed and evened as it accumulated. Then with equal care, it was unrolled to its full length and, with one person on each corner, stretched firmly and with even pressure. This was followed by rerolling on the
rack and preparation for the return ride in the trunk of Ingebjorg's car.

Back at the farm, there was a growing awareness that a significant bulk of solid and very damp wool had to be totally dry before the next major step on Monday morning. We had also experienced a week of typical Vinje weather; it was pleasantly cool and damp but it was definitely not for drying. So, between other activities, we were deeply involved in coaxing our cloth to demoisturize. Some was spread out on the lawn, some nailed full length across one barn wall, and others were repeatedly unrolled, gently smoothed, and then rerolled. Finally, the classroom floor and loom castles ended up
totally draped with yards of vadmel. I think that supplementary electric heaters may even have been involved. At any rate, on Monday morning every yard was nicely dry, and we felt a little like having climbed another mountain or forded yet another stream.

Eli and Ingebjorg with great insight hit upon a sure way of getting our minds off the wet wool; they opened for us the stabbur (storage buildings) which housed the textiles and other objects from hundreds of years in Vesaas family history. In the clean air, unlighted space, and buildings on rock foundations with extended upper floors to discourage rodents, they could
well last for hundreds of years into the future. The examples of bunader (dress for special occasions) nearly covered the history of changing styles in the Vinje area of Telemark. Three had been made by Olav's mother, a skilled seamstress who had made nine altogether. Dresses from the 1900s showed an Art Nouveau influence in the nature of roses and silk embroidered trims. Limited sources of dyes during World War I led to limited varieties of reds for embroidery, but later there was a desire for return to designs from previous centuries. Ingebjorg stressed the variety allowed and enjoyed in bunader, but she said there were still people who tried to establish a right and wrong in the modem bunad. Vesaas bunader were stored draped over poles, a traditional way, or hung from tabs sewn at the waistline.

Among many other textiles were leather throws with fur on one side and stamped designs on the other; krokbragd coverlets with black bands between the designed areas, which was typical for Vinje; fine woven linens; back packs made from a full sheepskin, the legs providing shoulder straps; and large booties in nalbinding which fitted over outer shoes to provide extra warmth and moisture protection.

Sunday was also a day for exhibitions, one at nearby Mjonoy of their sale and exhibit areas, serving artists and patrons around Vinje, and the other to Rauland Academy, a folk school which invites teachers from abroad (we were delighted to meet Harley Refsal from Decorah, Iowa, about to begin a wood carving course the next day). A drive farther north and west took us to the beginning of the Hardangervidda, the largest in northern Europe, with its flat, stark, treeless terrain and unique animal and plant life adapted to the high windswept land.

Monday found us making the first dubious cuts into our precious vadmel, excepting for the small squares we clipped from one end to provide samples for each other. Carol with rejuvenated speech focused on the joy of being able to forget about raveled edges since the vadmel process erased this usual concern with handwoven materials. She guided us in choosing lining
colors, possible trims, proper shades of sewing thread for handwork, and instructed us in the first steps of laying out and cutting our garments.

Sections of the pattern were laid out with right sides together, and the lining was cut with a 5/8 additional width because no seam allowance was made in the muslin guide. The right sides of the lining and vadmel were facing each other and joined by sewing with one of the very fine
modem sewing machines provided us. A small slit was left open for reaching the hand into the interior and turning the whole section inside out (a system Carol referred to as bagging). Lining seams were trimmed first, and then the wool. To deal with comers, they were rounded off after
turning. Then, sticking an index finger inside, the seams were folded forward and held with the thumb while turning the material. To work out the seam edges, muslin was placed over a cloth above which the steam iron was held without allowing the weight of the iron on the material beneath. The iron was lifted up and down; then the seams were gently flattened with the palm of the hand. Carol called our attention to such concerns as being sure that open side seams would meet at the hemline, that underarm and shoulder seams would mesh, and that closures would function evenly. She also taught ways of doing hand stitching of the lining and then the wool seams to give a professional final appearance to our work. She introduced some methods of cording to provide functional as well as decorative edgings. Her keen eye and sensitivity to personal style were key factors in
the final finished look our pieces achieved.

On Wednesday afternoon, Ingebjorg issued a surprise invitation for a visit to the museum at Eidsborg. People made a difficult choice between more final attention to their garments and making the trip. Having heard of this small but exquisite site, I opted for Eidsborg, as did several other people. The Museum is just one attraction, which includes the Eidsborg farm
buildings and a stave church as well. The 12th century stave church was enlarged in two later periods, and a partially exposed ceiling reveals the changes in each. Because at one time the lively 12th century painting covering the walls was modestly covered by boards, which fortunately preserved its amazingly strong colors. A candelabra from the 15th century and a medieval wood crucifix together with a more modern altar painting of the head of Christ by a local unknown painter all fit harmoniously into the interior.

Ingebjorg related that the church was probably consecrated to St. Nicholas and that an early statue of him as a boy stood before the choir door. Yearly the statue was gently bathed, paraded around the church grounds three times and then returned to its niche. Some time in the 19th century, the statue was moved to the Oslo University Collection of Antiquities and a replica put in its place. The mayor of Eidsborg was said to have taken ill and died shortly after having effected this change, and Ingebjarg said that the people have continued to work for the return of St. Nicholas. She was confident this would eventually happen because people from Telemark are the most independent in all of Norway. This characteristic, she related, went back to the days of domination by Denmark from around 1400 to 1800, when the tax gatherers for the Danish king managed to bring in the revenues from all the interior rural areas excepting Telemark. After the continued disappearance of every tax gatherer who entered the region, it was decided to leave Telemark strictly alone.

The farm buildings, showing that the owners were prosperous members of the area, were a pleasure to visit, but the most memorable place to me was the building that housed the museum artifacts. Small and modest, it focused total attention on the objects themselves. The well lit cases, which made things easily visible, were painted a neutral noncompetitive shade. The objects rested against pieces of gray whetstone, an ideal way of calling attention to this important export of the area without detracting from what was being displayed. The collection was a marvelous and unforgettable one.

The return drive to Vinje was via the community of Dalen, which meant a drop to sea level after a near constant series of hairpin turns all the way. We marked a definitely warmer climate as we descended. There was time to walk through the foyer of Dalen's exuberantly Victorian hotel before returning in time for our dinner at Mjonoy.

We observed July 4 by doing our best to complete our workshop goals and begin to clean up the area. But enjoyable interruptions were constant. The afternoon was filled when a half dozen or more weavers and friends from the area came to call, bringing with them lefse, kringia, and bars to supplement Eli's already generous waffles, tea, and coffee. It took very little
coaxing to get all of us to model our creations and then pose for endless photographs. The wool sorter for the area, who carries on the work begun by his father, came with his wife and told us something of his work. He explained that spelsau sheep are sheared in September for wool
of the best quality. The next coat, of lesser quality, grows quickly, and the sheep are sheared again just before lambing, when they are kept in the barn. If I understood him correctly, farmers get paid individually for their own wool.

At a final festive dinner in the main house the mayor joined us, as well as Per Hochfeldt-Luund from Norsk Kunstvevgarn and his wife together with our journalist friend Stein Olav Lie. Sarah Granskou, a sparkling young woman studying in Canada and working as a summer tour guide in Vinje, in a talented, imaginative, and totally individual rap style, entertained us with a musical portrait of a Canadian mailman.

Our last major challenge was closing suitcases now filled with hefty vadmel garments and considerable remaining yardage in addition to mementoes and other purchases. This was accomplished early the next morning, giving us time to visit the charming farm home of Ingebjorg's cousin and see the fine linens, weavings, and bunader in still another Vinje storehouse.

After a final valedictory lunch at Ingebjorg's nearby summer home, we separated to travel again on our individual journeys. I hope that this experience will be just the beginning of a continued interest in and experimentation with vadmel. Vesaas farm plans to continue future vadmel classes, and the Vinje stampa appears to be an excellent example of what the early mills were like. Ingebjerg points out that the reproduction of that mill for teaching in America would be a logical direction for a museum like Vesterheim in Decorah, Iowa, where a water supply nearby was used for the early grain mill there. Producing vadmel was familiar to immigrants coming from Norway to this country as late as the mid 1800's; we know that the mother of the famous economist Torstein Veblen was frustrated in her weaving activities in this country by having to resort to fulling material by hand and footwork because she could find no stampa available.