travelling

Sundborn and a Hand-Sewn Steek

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Sundborn

‘Var välkommen kära du, till Carl Larsson och hans fru!’ it says above the front door of Lilla Hyttnäs in the Swedish village of Sundborn. ‘Welcome to the house of Carl Larsson and his spouse!’ A warm welcome to the house that Carl and Karin Larsson made into such a special place, Carl with his paintings and Karin with her textiles.

Carl and Karin in a detail of Carl's painting When the Children have Gone to Bed.

Carl is best known for his watercolours of family life at Lilla Hyttnäs. In the house itself, beside all kinds of other decorations, he also painted his family on walls and doors.

Karin was a painter as well, but after getting married and having children she poured all of her creativity into embroidery and weaving.

Walking through and around the house, I was amazed by everything they achieved while raising eight children. Below, a photograph of their living room from the outside, with a bird decoration by Carl between the windows.

After my first visit, in the early 1980s, I had a postcard of one of Carls paintings on the wall of my 6 m2 student room for a long time. It was the well-known painting of the interior of the Larssons’ living room with one of the girls watering the plants.

In her cardigan book Koftor, knitwear designer Maja Karlsson tells us that she spent some time at Lilla Hyttnäs studying the colours and patterns of Karins textiles, and that this inspired her Sundborn cardigan design. She photographed the cardigan in the same living room, with the model watering the plants just like the girl in Carl’s painting. The stars in the cardigan’s yoke echo the stars along the edges of Karin’s blue-and-white table cloth.

I thought it would be fun to photograph my Sundborn cardigan in the same way. Only in our own living room instead of at Lilla Hyttnäs. The little red wooden Dala horse on the window sill is a souvenir of my second, more recent visit to Sundborn. And now I also have the cardigan to remind me of that wonderful place.

At this point, I’ll say goodbye to the non-knitters among you. I quite understand that you’d rather do something else than read about cutting a pullover open to turn it into a cardigan. See you again next time!

A Hand-Sewn Steek

For those of you who are interested, let’s dive into steeking. In this case, I knit the button bands on first, before cutting the steek.

Instead of machine-sewn steek reinforcements, I wanted to use hand-sewn seams this time, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Fortunately some of you came to the rescue. Helga checked the Swedish version of the pattern book and confirmed that the designer uses machine sewing thread. Angelique said that the seam might become too tight using machine sewing thread. I have never liked the idea of synthetic seams in my woollen sweaters anyway, so that was out. She also suggested trying things out on a swatch first, and that was what I did:

As an experiment, I sewed a back-stitch seam using the same yarn used for the cardigan (Léttlopi) on one side of the centre stitch and on the other using a thinner yarn (Jamieson & Smith 2-ply jumper weight). The Léttlopi was on the bulky side; the thinner yarn worked better, as L. had already predicted, so I used that on the cardigan.

L. also advised ‘piercing every row’s stitches’ and to be on the safe side I did that as well. Then, using my small embroidery scissors and holding my hand between front and back, I cut the steek.

The steek stitches looked fairly stable after cutting. (Below, the blue line through the centre of the pink stitches is one of the hand-sewn seams.)

But I’m glad that I pierced through the yarn of the knit stitches while back-stitching the seams, because at the top end the knit stitches did fray. With the extra strong reinforcements they wouldn’t unravel any further.

Finally, the steek stitches were folded over and stitched into place using whip stitches on the inside. Very neat!

All in all, I’m very happy with this hand-sewn steek reinforcement. It is easy and relaxing to do, and doesn’t stretch the knitted fabric as machine stitching can do. No more machine-reinforced steeks for me from now on. Thank you for your advice Helga, Angelique and L.! And to all of you – thank you for reading on to the end!

Links:

  • Maja Karlssons cardigan book Koftor can be found here on Ravelry, and the Sundborn cardigan here. (It has been translated into English, German and Dutch.)
  • Lilla Hyttnäs is now a museum called Carl Larsson Gården. Although only Carl’s name is mentioned in the museum’s name, the museum’s website now pays equal attention to Carl and Karin.

Sundborn Colours

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Hello! I’ve been immersing myself in colour and it’s been such a joy that I thought I’d share this small journey here. It takes us to Sweden, but let’s start at the beginning. I was going to knit a cardigan from Maja Karlsson’s cardigan book. This one:

It’s a gorgeous design, but the colours – although exciting and very well balanced – are not ‘me’ at all. The cardigan is knit from Léttlopi, an Icelandic yarn that comes in many colours. Which ones to choose to make the cardi really mine?

The cardigan design is called Sundborn, after the Swedish village where painter Carl Larsson and his wife Karin lived in their home called Lilla Hyttnäs. In the introduction to the pattern, designer Maja tells us that the surprising colour combination was inspired by Karin’s textile art and would never have occurred to herself. She ends with: ‘Challenge yourself to try something different…’

I’ve visited Sundborn (twice!) and thought the photos might inspire me. This is the entrance to Lilla Hyttnäs:

The house is that typical Swedish red, with yellow, green and white accents.

It’s an utterly lovely house, but the colours are not something I’d wear. An outbuilding has a blue-grey door decorated by Carl himself with a wreath, the name of one of their children and the year it was finished (if I understand it correctly). I quite like that shade of blue.

Hmmm. Let’s look at the garden for some more inspiration.

More red, yellow, and green, and a bit of purple and orange as well. It’s such a nice and tranquil spot and the colours are wonderfully uplifting…

…but not exactly cardigan colours for me. Another approach then – leafing through a book with Carl Larsson’s paintings. Oh, his colour palette is so attractive. In the end I chose a painting of Karin – scissors in hand, her weaving looms to the left, lush green house plants everywhere and a pink flowering azalea in the foreground.

I thought of combining the pink of the azalea and the deep blue of Karin’s dress with the green of the plants, but it was too different for me. In the end I chose the mixed colour of the ruffle at Karin’s neck to go with the blue and pink.

I’m sorry Maja, I tried to take on your challenge, but I’m staying within my comfort zone. The colours I’ve chosen will go with just about all my other clothes and I’ll love knitting with and wearing them. It’s been fun looking around for different and exciting colours, though.

Now I can’t wait to get back to my knitting. Wishing you all you a lovely weekend and hope to see you again next week!

Selbu Mittens

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Hello! After a false start – with a mitten turning out too small – my Selbu mittens are now well under way. They have a star on the top and an all-over diamond grid pattern on the palm of the hand.

I’ll tell you more about them when they’re finished. First, I’d like to take you along to the Norwegian region where these black-and-white mittens originated. We visited Selbu during one of our many travels in Scandinavia, camping on the local campsite for a couple of nights, eating outside no matter what the weather.

Selbu is a community with about 4.000 inhabitants, some 70 kilometres south-east of Trondheim, the city with these colourful warehouses along the Nidelva river:

I love the rugged Norwegian landscape, with its wild rivers…

… and wide open spaces.

We pass many interesting dwellings…

…before arriving at the old rectory that houses Selbu Bygdemuseum.

The museum shares its premises with Selby Husflidscentral, that runs the shop, and organises tours of the museum as well as workshops and talks on Selbu knitting. The museum has a fabulous collection of knitted accessories,

including a large number of gloves and mittens.

Almost all of them are in black and white, and many (but not all) of them have star and/or diamond patterns.

I am talking of star patterns, but the Norwegians call them eight-petal roses, or also Selbu roses. No pair is the same, and some pairs have dates and/or initials knit into them.

Some of the mittens have very intricate patterns knit on very fine needles, while others are simpler and knit at a larger gauge. The ones I am knitting are something in between. There is much more to write about these wonderful mittens, but I’ll leave it at this for now.

If you ever have the opportunity, Selbu Bygdemuseum is definitely worth a visit. Until then, here are some links for further reading:

Mosel Travel Knitting

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The first thing I always pack for a trip is my knitting. Do you do that too? During the last meeting of my knitting group, I discovered that most of my knitting friends do. At home, I made a small start on my knitting project for our holiday in Germany, a smaller version of my Seventh Heaven Scarf, to make sure that the yarn would work and the needles were the right size.

Arriving at our cottage on a farm in the Mosel region, we felt very welcome straightaway.

We didn’t visit any yarn shops or textile exhibitions this time, but if you keep your eyes open, there is always something knitting or textiles-related to be seen. A yarn-bombed drainpipe…

… a tiny spindle whorl no bigger than the thimble next to it…

… and a saint holding a weaving shuttle. The patron saint of weavers, I thought, but it turned out to be Saint Severus, who was a wool weaver during his lifetime.

Beside the church to which Saint Severus gave his name was a fountain with a fun owl chair next to it. At least that’s what I thought at first, but looking again, no, not an owl…

Everywhere we went, my knitting went too and I photographed it here and there along the way.

It was fun to see the colours develop and the scarf grow.

This slightly macabre picture was taken in the incredibly picturesque town of Bernkastel-Kues, with its beautiful Fachwerkhäuser and narrow alleyways.

Only a few days after our visit, after huge downpours, the centre of this little town as well as many others was flooded. In some places people had to be evacuated and there was huge damage. It was frightening to see how quickly the water rose and how fast the river flowed, now brown with silt. Viewed from above, submerged trees in what is normally a park:

Our cottage was about 150 metres above river level, and our only worry was whether my brother and German sister-in-law would be able to visit us (or we’d have to eat all the cakes ourselves). With some detours they reached us, and my animal-loving SIL immediately bonded with a cow.

A couple of days later the roads along the river were passable again and we drove to Cochem for some shopping. The water level in the river had subsided considerably, but we thought we’d better not park here just yet:

Fortunately no lives were lost this time, but it was a disaster for many of those with homes, shops, campsites or restaurants along the river.

During the rest of our holiday, we avoided the area that was hit and stayed up in the mountains. I knit some more.

And we walked in the beautiful countryside, enjoying the views…

… photographing flowers and insects in the amazing flower meadows…

… seeing fox cubs play…

… and almost stepping on a fire salamander – the first time ever we’ve seen one.

At the end of our stay, my scarf had grown quite a bit,

but it wasn’t finished yet. When it’s finished and if I’m happy with it, I’ll add the details to the Seventh Heaven scarf pattern and I’ll also tell you more about the yarn etc. The knitting is almost done now, but writing everything up may take a while, so please be patient. Meanwhile there will always be something else to write about and I hope to see you here again next week. Bye!

Oh, the Places Knitters Go!

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Hello! It’s good to be back here. Maybe you haven’t even noticed I’ve been away, but we’ve been on a late summer holiday to Germany. We spent the first half in the Mosel region, and the second half in the Eifel. Above a photo of the view on the river Mosel from our balcony, and below our first holiday home from the outside:

In my dreams, that is. In real life this is Reichsburg Cochem. And in real life we stayed in a far humbler (but lovely) abode. In real life, this was what I looked out on when I sat knitting outside our cottage.

I didn’t knit all that much during our holiday, though. Partly because we were out walking and visiting places most of the time, and partly because it was so hot that the yarn almost felted in my hands. A few rows on a scarf here and there, and half a sock was all I knit.

Halfway through the holiday, I celebrated my birthday. We had some of the famous and delicious German Kuchen, of course. (The Germans are so much better at baking cakes than we Dutch are.) And I also got to decide what we were going to do the rest of the day. I chose a visit to another castle and… a yarn shop (what else?). This is Schloss Bürresheim.

The castle is entered through a kind of tunnel that leads to a courtyard with an outdoor summer kitchen. It’s very special, like being in a film.

Actually it is in a film. In an edited form, it is the castle where Indiana Jones’ father is held captive in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

Now, let’s drive on to the yarn shop. It’s Die Kleine Wollfabrik in Kaisersesch. My guess is that tourists are a rarity in this town. It’s 30 ˚ C/86 ˚ F, with glaring sunlight and noise and dust from building activities in a colourless street. Oh, the places we knitters go! For a moment I wonder ‘what on earth am I doing here?’, and then step inside a world of colour.

There is yarn everywhere. In overflowing baskets…

… in cubbyholes, on shelves, on the floor…

… on top of storage units and in front of the windows. These skeins were dyed by the shop owner herself:

And there is also quite a bit of spinning fibre.

So, is this yarn shop worth a detour? If you’re looking for yarn for a sweater – frankly no. There is very little of that kind of yarn here. But if you’d like some yarn for socks or a shawl – absolutely. Be prepared for a kind of yarn jungle expedition, though. You’d be wise to have some kind of idea of what you’re looking for beforehand.

From all of the very colourful yarns, I chose several rather quiet ones for three pairs of socks to give away, and a variegated yarn for a pair for me. All of them yarns I haven’t knit with before – I’ll tell you more about them when I get round to knitting them up.

After all of the beautiful places we’ve been to, it’s good to be back home. In a sense, I’m a cow. Not the nicest thing to say of oneself perhaps, but what I mean is: I need time to chew things over. After ingesting lots of grass/impressions, both cows and I need some quiet time to digest everything. Sifting through my photographs and writing about my experiences helps me do that.

Thank you for reading. I hope to digest/write about a visit to another textiles-related place next week before getting back to my ordinary knitting chat. Hope to see you then!

An Afternoon in Antwerp

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Friends of ours live near the Belgian border. That’s not exactly around the corner from where we live, and we don’t see them as often as we’d like. So, when my husband was asked to give a talk in Antwerp, we decided to drive down together and invited ourselves to a meal at their place afterwards.

This meant that I had an entire afternoon to spend as I liked in a city I had only been to once, years ago. I wanted to spend my precious time well, and planned my route carefully beforehand to include some sightseeing and some shopping.

I was dropped off on the left bank of the river Scheldt and took the ferry across to the city centre.

The ferry ride, even if it lasted only 15 minutes, immediately gave me a feeling of freedom and being on a holiday. From the water, I had a lovely view of Antwerp’s skyline, with its mixture of old and modern buildings.

My first port of call was the Grote Markt, the market square with its tall and impressive guild halls. They speak of incredible wealth. Flanders once had a booming woollen cloth industry, but I think that had declined before these guild halls were built. I know very little about Belgian history, to be honest, and have no idea where all the wealth on display here came from, but I have a feeling that it cannot all have been fair trade.

The gables are adorned with ‘golden’ sculptures. I don’t suppose they really are made of gold, but they aren’t brass either, or somebody will have to climb up and polish them once a week.

High up on one of the  gables, a beautiful golden galleon was sailing through the clouds.

Leaving the market square behind, I strolled through the surrounding streets and bought some of those famous Belgian chocolates for my loved ones.

Having crossed off the most important thing on my list of things to do, I went in search of the Vlaeykensgang. I’d read about this historic alley and had located it on the map, but still had some difficulty finding it. The entrances are so narrow and inconspicuous that I’d walked past one of them several times without recognizing it as an entrance.

I’m glad that I didn’t give up, because it’s a really, really special place.

A restaurant in one of the buildings looked very inviting, with flowering plants on the window sills and the warm glow of candles inside.

But my time was limited and there was more on my list of things to do, so I walked on to Julija’s shop. Julija sells fabrics and yarns, some of which she dyes herself, like this tweed yarn.

She is best known for her knitting patterns for young children and their mums, though. She has published four ‘real’ books and many small booklets she calls magazines.

Julijas patterns are easy to knit and make me wish that I had some small people to knit for. I mean, look, isn’t this simple garter stitch cardi adorable?

Even in big cities, I always feel drawn to green spaces. In Antwerp I found a lovely place to munch a snack and give my feet a rest in the Botanical Garden.

Den Botaniek, as it’s called, used to be the herb garden of a hospital. Part of it is still planted with herbs and there are also some beautiful trees, a pond with a small waterfall and big goldfish, a glasshouse with cacti and other exotic plants, and an intriguing sculpture.

The plaque next to it says that it’s called ‘Greening II’ and is by Monique Donckers. I haven’t been able to find anything else about it. What does it mean? Could this be symbolic for man on his way to pushing up the daisies?

Refreshed by my short stop, I walked on to another yarn shop – Lana. Visiting two yarn shops on one afternoon, made me realize how different they can be. Both of these shops sell yarn, obviously, but their selection and atmosphere is very different. While Julija’s is light, fresh and modern, Lana is warm, colourful and cosy.

Lana is a Rowan flagship store and the photos above and below show several knits in their Felted Tweed yarn. Some (or all?) of them are by the famous Kaffe Fassett. I recognize Vibrant Stripe (scarf above right) and Colours in the Mist (sweater below).

I’m not sure about the striped knits below – perhaps they are just swatches to show off a beautiful yarn, or perhaps they are scarves. And I don’t remember what yarn they were in either. I only photographed them because they were so nice to look at.

I must admit that I feel a bit iffy about writing about these yarn shops. So, to be absolutely clear about my intentions: I’m not sponsored by any of them. I just write about them because I hope that some of the things that make me happy, will make others happy, too. And also because the information may be useful to other knitters with some time on their hands in this lovely city. Besides, it isn’t as if these shops are huge multinationals. They are just small businesses that deserve all the support they can get.

And did I buy anything? Often, I am so overwhelmed by everything I see, that I think, ‘Oh well, I don’t really need anything’, and leave the shop empty-handed. But this time I was well prepared. At Julija’s I bought some beautiful Japanese fabric, in a blue-green colour that looks like wide brush strokes of watercolour paint. And at Lana I chose a few balls in a thick, soft, fluffy yarn in off-white for a cosy winter accessory.

Well, time to head back. Instead of taking the ferry across the Scheldt again, I walked through St Anna’s Tunnel under it. I wasn’t entirely sure about this, but because there is no bridge, I didn’t have much choice. My fears were unfounded, though, as the tunnel is clean, well-lit and feels entirely safe. And it’s quite an experience! It’s a pedestrian tunnel dating back to the 1930s, with escalators made of wood and brass that make a fantastic rattling noise.

If you’d like to visit Antwerp too one day, I’d say take an entire day (at least) and rent a bicycle or use public transport. (I vastly underestimated the distances and walked miles and miles.)

At the end of a lovely afternoon, an even lovelier supper awaited us at our friends’ place. They prepared a special Belgian meal, with Flemish chips, spicy red cabbage and a stew made with one of Antwerp’s special beers. Thank you, dear friends!

I won’t be here, on my blog, next week. After all this gallivanting, working in the garden and a terrible computer crash, I need some time to catch up with the rest of my life. And I want to finally finish the new design I’ve been working on for a long time. I hope to tell you more about that soon.

Thanks for reading and take care!

A Visit to a Norwegian Spinning Mill

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Hello! Welcome on board the ferry from Kiel, Germany, to Oslo, the capital of Norway.

Today we’re travelling back in time to 2006. The year our family of three spent a Summer Holiday in Norway. One of our destinations is a spinning mill on the west coast, a little north of Bergen.

But before we get there, we’ll be seeing some sights along the way. I won’t bore you with our complete family photo album, but I do want to show you a bit of this beautiful, rugged country that has such a great knitting tradition.

Our accommodation for most of this holiday is a tent. It isn’t big, but it’s comfortable. And we’ve even brought some chairs.

From Oslo we are first travelling north, to Jotunheimen National Park. This mountainous area is ideal for hiking. There are miles upon miles of hiking trails, the main routes clearly marked with big red T’s on rocks.

The scenery is breathtaking, the air is clean and fresh, and – apart from the sound of wind, water and birds – silence reigns. (Click on pictures to enlarge.)

I hope you’ve enjoyed these walks and are not too stiff and sore from the unaccustomed climbing. Leaving Jotunheimen, we’re now travelling in a southwesterly direction.

At Borgund we visit a stave church from around 1200 AD. The roof of this wooden building is decorated with both dragon’s heads and crosses, and there are intricate wood carvings around the entrance. Inside it is rather dark, as the windows are small. The wood is charred and tarred for preservation, which gives off a very special smell.

Our next stop is Bergen, the second largest city of Norway (280.000 inhabitants). These are the wooden buildings at Bryggen, the colourful historic harbour front:

Bergen is notorious for its rainfall. There’s a well-known joke about it that goes like this:

A foreign tourist visiting Bergen in a downpour addresses a local boy, ‘Boy, please tell me, is it always raining in Bergen?’ The boy answers, ‘I wouldn’t know, Sir. I’m only six.’

We’d heard the joke and decided to rent a cottage in the area instead of putting up our tent again.

It is painted in Scandinavian red and one corner of the roof is supported by a knobbly tree trunk. Inside everything is made of unpainted wood – the walls, the floor, the furniture. On our menu is a lot of salmon, as well as Pytt i Panne, a traditional one-pot dish with potatoes, leeks and ham.

From the cottage it is only a short drive north to Hjelmås, where we are going to visit a spinning mill, called Hillesvåg Ullvarefabrikk.

Hillesvåg Ullvarefabrikk was founded in 1898. Some of the machinery from the early days is still in use. The front door of the building opens right into a small shop brimful with yarn and ready-knit socks, woollen underwear and sweaters.

We ask the lady behind the counter if we could, perhaps, take a look around the actual mill to see the yarn being spun. ‘Of course,’ she says, and she calls the general manager, who kindly gives us a tour of the premises. He tells us that all of the wool they process is from Norwegian sheep.

First he shows us how the wool is fed into the carding machine…

… and is carded by roll upon spiky roll to align the fibers, and produce a sliver ready for spinning.

Then we see how the carded wool is spun onto yarn spools.

The yarn is dyed in big vats, in over a hundred different colours. (Unfortunately we didn’t take any photos of those. At the time I had no idea that I’d ever be publishing this on a blog. Had I even heard of blogs in 2006?)

Back in the shop it’s time for another look at the colourful yarn display. After much deliberation, I finally decide to buy the kit for the ‘challenging’ cardigan I mentioned in my previous post.

Nowadays, Hillesvåg Ullvarefabrikk is an Economusée, which means that they are still a working mill, but now officially give guided tours.

Well, it’s high time to get back on the ferry for the return journey. I hope you’ve enjoyed your mini-holiday in Norway. Thank you for travelling with Merula Designs and I hope to see you again soon.

Note: This post is not sponsored in any way. I just like talking about knitting materials and where they come from. (Not that I would mind being sponsored by the Norwegian Tourist Board but, alas, they haven’t discovered my blog yet.)