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These are Ñandutí doilies, a traditional lace technique made in Paraguay. The name means "spider web" in Guaraní, the native language of Paraguay. Ñandutí was originally introduced by Spaniards who brought with them Teneriffe lace.
More examples here.
Watch here the first minutes of a documentary of Ñandutí lace.
There was this time in Stockholm when I saw a subtle green latch hooked rug in a weaving loom and decided I should try making a rug like that one. Apart from some basic knowledge from design school, I can't say I know how to weave so I started looking for lessons and tools. I was immediately discouraged when I found out how expensive it was to pay for a medium-sized loom of my own, some quality yarn and the weaving classes (besides having to carry the loom for each lesson). So, if my final objective was a hooked rug, then I could try a simpler but somehow less noble version: using rug canvas.
So here's my first attempt. Inspired by a crocheted bedspread, I created this geometric and very easy to follow pattern. The technique is rather slow so I'm not sure when I'll be posting the finished rug (I do hope to finish the nine squares originally intended and not give up on the way).
What's been really fun with this technique is that I've discovered the realm of bad taste and kitschiness. Just search around the web and you'll find sheer kitsch in pillows, rugs and wall hangings. I wouldn't like to offend anyone's work, but for one reason or the other, hand latch hooked rugs have ended being the canvas of cartoons, animals' portraits or holiday themes. Has it something to do with its resemblance to bathroom rugs that this technique has totally fallen from grace?
I'm always intrigued by cultural and social connotations given to some crafts (tie-dye will always be hippie, latch hooked rugs will always be kitsch) and how they can really change when approached to with an original focus. Sandra Backlund's knits never feel unflattering nor Subversive Cross Stitch embroideries look boring. So, is there any future with latch hooking?
Copihue, also known as Chilean Bellflower, is Chile's floral emblem and it's usually seen on crafts and touristic souvenirs or as a graphic icon for symbolising traditional events and locally made products. As with any other national emblem, copihues often end up relegated to the tourism business and are certainly ignored by locals but seen as folkloric and nice by visitors.
For some time I've been wondering if it is possible to take these symbols and actually create something (a pattern?) that doesn't feel like a tacky souvenir. The thing is, will ever a person want a product based on their own national emblems? Will French really like something inspired in the Eiffel Tower? Or Dutch want any more tulips in their homes? Will Chileans take in copihues for their house decoration?
I felt I needed my own share of copihues to figure it out so I added some into my home space. I was inspired by Mapuche woven textiles motifs which are very geometric and bold. Then I worked with wool felt for making this tray holder that doubles perfectly as a folder holder.
And some days ago, while visiting Pueblito Los Dominicos here in Santiago, I found these beautiful hand-painted doilies. Of course, I couldn't resist and had to buy a pair with copihues. Let's see how it feels to live surrounded by a bunch of them.
Yesterday I finally visited this mill-museum I've been meaning to know since I read about it on Redgate Studios' blog (Rebecca came to Stockholm last year for the International Wallpaper Conference and got the chance to visit some other wonderful places). The Almgren silk weaving mill has been in production for almost 170 years which makes it a real living museum. Though I don't know much about weaving, I was equally impressed with the antique looms, the exquisite patterns and diagrams and the untouched working rooms, which are preserved just as they were originally arranged.
Monocle's last edition cover caught my attention: Craft makes a comeback. Along with the eye-catching illustrations by Gaku Nakagawa it outlines the main points of this phenomenon: 'The rise of real provenance', ' Why China's out of fashion for manufacturers' and 'That's right, we're making everything in Europe again'. The main article points out how many companies are bringing manufacturing back to their own countries after the recent rise of oil price and a general unease about outsourcing jobs to unscrupulous factories. After this past 20 years trend of outsourced production, it seems that the "Made In Where You Think It Should Be Made" is enjoying a revival. And as for the current tough times in world economy, the likely favoured are going to be the companies that offer products with lasting values as opposed to goods created to being on-trend for two seasons.
Monocle October 2008 issue photographed on IKEA's 365+ RISP quilt cover in black (which is, by the way, made in Turkey but designed in Sweden by designer Maria Vinka).
There are some splendid textile samples at National Museum in Stockholm. From above: Blåblad (1939) by Astrid Sampe for NK:s Textilkammare; Anglar (1972) by Lotta Hagerman for Tiogruppen; Oppo (1966) by Sven Fristedt.
Since being in Stockholm I've noticed a lot of muted yellow hues in design and architecture. I have always disregarded the use of this palette as I believe it could not be any less flattering (ok, I'm biased because I really look sick when wearing these colours). But here half of the buildings are painted in this dull yellow (and the other half in a soft terracotta) and people actually wear it in their outfits (it beautifully enhances golden hair). So now that autumn has officially arrived and I have found some wonderful examples, I think I could seriously welcome these colours into my primary design palette. Straw, gold, mustard, ochre, amber, butterscotch, beeswax, bamboo, bronze. And some olive, moss, fern, celery and lime to blend in.
(From above) Marimekko's shop windows for this coming autumn: La Botte floral pattern by Maija Isola; I love the beautiful detail of Isola's handwritting in the pattern (10.8.75 Helsinki "La Botte" Maija Isola); glass jars in Parnukka by Erja Hirvi.
(Bottom picture) When looking for some extra covers for this chilly autumn, I found this old bedspread in the attic of my apartment building. It's a bold printed bedspread by bedroom furniture company Lagans.
And have a look at what I also found going through a cupboard in this apartment.
Today is Chile's Independence Day and I felt like doing something to celebrate the day and make my kitchen resemble a Chilean fonda. I know it's not looking any similar to those picturesque fondas, but at least I have copihues and kites and that nice feeling that spring is finally coming (well, in Chile). Now, I have to go out and get some red wine! ¡Feliz 18 a todos!
Yesterday while visiting the National Museum in Stockholm I saw this interesting screen-printed fabric inspired by Stig Lindberg's popular Berså motif. The young artist, Erik Åleby (b.1985) changed the calm leaves for hand grenades aiming to draw attention to current problems in the world, such as war in Irak and starvation in Sudanese region of Darfur. Bomber och granater (Bombs and grenades-2006) is printed on cotton and belongs to the current exhibition of modern Swedish design at the National Museum.
Berså (arbor) is probably the most well-known ceramic motif by Stig Lindberg. Berså tableware was produced by Gustavbergs Porcelain Factory from 1960 until 1974 and achieved immediate success when launched.
I'm so happy that I was able to visit Formex fair here in Stockholm. This season's theme was Celebrating Traditions, a tribute to Swedish traditions (Midsummer, snaps and national costumes) and craftsmanship (weaving, embroidery, needlework, lacework, silversmithing, etc.). I can't think of a better country than Sweden to hold a fair inspired by crafts and traditions. It always marvels me how they appreciate their traditional work and let it slip into their contemporary design. And I'm certain to say that the major influence as a designer after staying here probably is not the design or aesthetic itself, but the sense of national identity, respect and attachment to locally created things that makes you long for your own roots.
Talking about this I'd like to quote Ebba Redman from Domestic Craft who has an interesting view on Swedish crafts and how Scotland (or any other country given the case) could follow a similar path:
"There was Swedish tourist tat too. I could have bought myself a Viking helmet complete with yellow braids, or moose antler headband, anything with a Swedish flag on... Basically the same sort of Scottish tourist stuff you get. It just seemed there was also the good quality stuff, things that were handmade and traditional but also cool and really very funky (...) I think it's interesting what you said about national designs. Sweden is very nationalistic, perhaps more so than Scotland. I think it is fantastic living in a multicultural society and I think this adds so much to our lives. I think we need to use a broader language of Scottish designs, as you say there's tartan, thistles and Celtic knots... but there is also Fair Isle patterns, Arts and Crafts motifs, the dramatic scenery that surrounds us, all to take inspiration from. It seems there is actually a lot to be worked with not to mention the actual making skills themselves. I think we need to get out of the rut of making the same old 'Scottish' things and try and reestablish a new language of Scottish design. There is no reason why this couldn't reflect our society now and take on influences and ideas from the other cultures and people now living in Scotland. I think it is nice to have a theme or design motifs to associate with Scotland. The traditional crafts I saw in Sweden often used similar painted stencils or colours, or one element would be kept to tie it in as something traditional but the other elements of the design would be changed/modified. If there were somewhere showing traditional Scottish craft it would be great to not see a place only filled with tartan and thistles but have things made from local materials, or using traditional skills but in a contemporary way."The pictures above belong to the "concept rooms" at Formex which were designed by Jan Rundgren and Lars Eriksson. Arranged by colours they contain objects that characterise the new and the old- from handicrafts to the new design. The fair's theme confirms the huge handmade/folklore/traditional trend for this coming year.
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Among the overwhelming display of objects at the fair, I spotted my already favourite brands and also discovered some new names that I'd like to share here.
Linda Svensson (Sweden) - After working for clients such as IKEA, now this textile designer is launching her own collection of fabrics and pillows.
Lena Håkanson from Non Stop Design (Sweden) - Her design work is influenced by local traditions and crafts.
Pappelina (Sweden) - Bold patterns on plastic rugs, blankets, tablecloths and kitchen towels.
Erika Tubbin (Sweden) - Accessories, t-shirts and beautiful embroidered clogs (shown above), all surfaced with her signature pattern.
Stoffen & Sloffen (Neatherlands) - Vintage fabrics and the sweetest embroidered slippers imported from Greece.
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For more pictures from Formex Autumn 08, go here.
This is the final post on Nordiska Museet. From above: Braille sign system with 3D models of costumes; antique embroidery; traditional paper flowers.
Nordiska Museet is probably the museum I enjoy most. I love how they mix renowned designers, annonymous handcrafters and tradition into an exhibition that always feels fresh and modern. Here some pictures of textiles exhibited there.
From above: Applet (1959) by Annika Malmström for Mölnlycke Väveri. Screen printed and hand stenciled; (back) Pythagoras (1952) by architect Sven Markelius, one of the prominent figures of Swedish functionalism, (front) Abstraktion, curtain by Stig Lindberg, artistic leader at Gustavbergs Porcelain Factory; (front) two colourways of Windy Way (1955) by Astrid Sampe for NK:s Textilkammare (Nordiska Kompaniet's Textiles Chambers); "The 1950s was the promised decade of textile design. After the Second World War, people wanted light, flowery motifs. This changed with the breakthrough of abstract art and its effect upon textile design. Fabric patterns that had previously only been decorative now gained intrinsic artistic value. Designers began to sign their textile prints. Even the large, colourful patterns from furnishing fabrics were used in fabrics for clothes."
Last week I met Ebba Redman from Domestic Craft and had a wonderful time talking about design, crafts and, of course, Nordiska Museet! She's a very nice, friendly and down-to-earth girl and much interested in how design and crafts are evolving. And, don't be fooled by the cocktails! We were celebrating being in Stockholm! ;)
These wrist warmers are a modern approach to a traditional Swedish accessory. Wrist warmers along with mittens and gloves are main accessories of the traditional Swedish outfit. Seen at Nordiska Museet in Stockholm.
