bobbing in

Just bobbing in this week.

‘Bobbing in’ is what my sister Kate who lives in Stockport says, and it always makes me smile. You can ‘bob in’ for a brew, a chat, to just say hello, not staying long. I prefer it to ‘dropping in’ or ‘popping in’. And it should, preferably be long enough for a cup of tea, or a brew, as Kate says.

We came back from Stockholm at the end of the week, a week full of Theo and his pre-nursery routine of hoovering,

dancing (he’s got a George Harrison style at the moment), lining up pairs of shoes, and knocking on doors. It’s been lovely introducing him to games, rhymes, and words, and watching him regard us with bafflement then amusement when we attempt to speak or read a book in Swedish.

I’ve knitted him another beanie with Norwegian wool bought in Litet Nystan, eaten amazing pains au chocolat at Pascal, found one of the murder mystery books I mentioned last week impossible to get into and another with ultra-posh stereotypes and therefore more than mildly annoying. We’ve been to play parks, admired the way in which fathers just as much as mothers look after their babies and children, and taken him to and from nursery where they have a chef who makes fresh food everyday for the children (all for about £120 per month, full-time).

We did get to an excellent weaving exhibition at Sven-Harry’s Konstmuseum. I particularly loved the room full of traditional Swedish rag rugs which are different to British rag rugs in that they are woven on a loom. In fact, the exhibition was as much about the loom - there was one in each room - and its history and ever-evolving potential.

There is still a very strong, highly valued loom-weaving culture in Sweden which straddles art and craft, display and function. Many of the modern pieces were beautiful but all the older female visitors (and they/we outnumbered others) were clearly enjoying seeing the kinds of rugs that they’d known growing up. Even now, rag rugs are common in Swedish flats and houses (IKEA has a variety).

My favourite was “Slarvtjäll” (1999) by Ulla Parkdal (b1939), a flat-weave rug with short pieces of inlaid rags, in this case English cretonne, which made it a nice marriage of two rag rug traditions. It had an amazing surface texture like little bows or shells, and lying on it would be a joy with all the tiny print details on the cretonnes. Sadly, the light was not at all conducive to good photography.

By contrast, many of the examples of contemporary weaving were a mix of wild, colourful, innovative art pieces using all sorts of materials, and intricate, classic textiles made with great skill. I liked this display of refined but experimental Yoroke swatches made with linen, ramie, silk, paper, cotton, and bamboo by Åsa Pärson (b1970) whose work continues and expands the Swedish weaving tradition with this Japanese-influenced weaving technique.

I’m very keen on small weavings like these - see also Sheila Hicks’ ‘minimes’ (which Simon insists on saying as ‘mini-mes’ as per the Austin Powers films) and I love what Jessie Mordine Young did with her ‘Woven Year’. I’ve tried weaving on a four-shaft loom but oh my goodness the setting up takes soooo long, and I just don’t have that level of Zen calm. But I do like the idea of a little portable nail frame loom like the ones Sheila Hicks has used for decades (this one was made in India, c1970). So, inspired by Weaving as Metaphor which I read in the CUL as it’s so expensive to buy, I’ve signed up for a short course to see what I can do with one.

And now, after bobbing in for a metaphorical brew, I have Season 4 of Only Murders in the Building to watch, a beanie hat to knit, and two FT Weekends to read.

Happy Sunday!