GIMPING
My immediate thought was, if only the world knew what Marianne Johnstad keeps in her stores!
From bookazine 5, published September 2021
Grab your copy here
I knew, because I visited her workshop in December 2020 in connection with an exhibition she had staged: De gimpede og porcelænet mødes til the og kaffe (The gimped and the porcelain meet for tea and coffee).
The exhibition presented a table setting with ceramics by Pia Baastrup and Ann Linnemann and Marianne’s gimped cups, spoons and jugs.
I had also previously encountered Marianne’s universe, as her knitted scarves were featured in the photo series PRE-LOVED in HÅNDVÆRK bookazine no. 2.
I loved the exhibition before I even saw it, for reminding me of a technique I had forgot all about.
Gimping uses a gimping needle, a crochet hook and yarn. A gimping needle has two pins and a ‘bridge’ for keeping the pins parallel and spaced at a fixed distance. Traditional gimping needles looked like oversized hairpins. Today, you can also buy a universal, adjustable gimping needle, where you can adjust the gap between the pins.
The little exhibition was beautiful, but what was even more beautiful was that Marianne gave me a peek into her archive. Since then, I have been back for another visit. Asked her to tell me about her life with textiles and been allowed to photograph some of the many things she keeps in her neatly organized stores.
I tell her: I would like to talk to her about her life as a textile designer and a textile artist: Your expression stands out because it is so much more elegant and romantic than any other Danish textile designer of your generation that I know about. I can tell from Marianne’s face that the term ‘romantic’ does not sit right. I try again, your style is more feminine, more sensuous than what I normally see.
‘I can relate to “feminine” and “sensuous”,’ she replies in a conciliatory tone. ‘but I prefer it if when things are slightly edgy.’ My eyes are drawn to the raw, unhemmed strips of fabric on her otherwise prim silk blouse that is done up with a bow.
Li Edelkoort insists that ‘ROMANTIC’ is a key term in fashion in the time we are moving into, I say, she speaks of festoons and lace; not the sort of lace you see in old-fashioned lingerie. Speaking of a new era, she points wholeheartedly to the quality of being sensuous, handmade, unique and imperfect.
‘Lace has always been a part of my life,’ says Marianne, ‘I have boxes full of lace, and I even have a framed lace collar on the wall in our living room, but I think I’m really more focused on the sea as a source of inspiration.
At the design school, “romantic” was a negative word, just as decoration was controversial. Both the school and most of the students were interested in streamlined, industrial design. To my great disappointment, the workshops saw very little use during those years. That did not stop me from exploring materials and techniques, and some of the things I work with today come from my time at the school; that’s where I began to gimp.’
But now you’re trendy, I point out, and Marianne replies, ‘Well, that sounds bloody marvellous!’ ’Bloody’ is absolutely the only cuss word that finds its way into our conversation, Marianne speaks in muted and polite tones and carefully weighs her words. On a more quiet note, she says, ‘If you remain true to your expression, you are bound to be trendy sometimes.’ I comment that the rest of the time you have style, and style never goes out of fashion.
You began at the design school in 1999, you were 34 years old and thus an adult student; what had you done prior to this?
‘I was born and raised in Aalborg and spent all my holidays on the Danish west coast. As a child and young person I dreamed of becoming a fashion designer. I moved to Copenhagen, took my upper secondary diploma and then attended a private design and tailoring course where I spent two years learning cutting and sewing. The first time I applied to The Danish Design School, I chose the fashion line but was not accepted. Then I spent some time improving my drawing skills, I remember my drawing teacher insisted, “You’re not a fashion girl, you’re a textile girl,” which I strongly refuted.
I began as a freelance stitcher, making costumes in various Copenhagen theatres. The first production I was involved in was Fassbinder’s Blood on the Cat’s Neck in 1989 at CaféTeatret. I have been reminded of that production over and over because the poster hangs at Designmuseum Danmark, where I have periodically supplemented my income by working as a custodian.
Another valuable theatre memory is about the legendary Jean Voigt. Under his direction I was involved in making costumes for Aladdin at Gladsaxe Teater.’
(Jean Voigt, 1940–1996 – fashion designer, scenographer and artist, best known for his designs for the ballet and theatre. Jean Voigt was a trained tailor; in his youth he had worked with Balenciaga and Pierre Cardin in Paris).
‘He was talented, a complicated person but above all incredibly generous in sharing his knowledge. I had private clients that I sewed things for outside my work at the theatre. I recall an incident where I was working on a men’s jacket, I was having trouble with the sleeve. Jean Voigt walked through the room, blue everywhere, except for his teeth, he was spray-painting a costume in the basement, and with just a few, little moves, he had fitted the sleeve perfectly into the armhole for me.
In addition to the costume work, which was unpredictable and with no guarantee of having any work once a production was over, I also designed small collections that I sold through a shop in Copenhagen. I made wedding dresses on commission and tried to launch an underwear collection.
By this time, I had a family of my own, and I realized that if I was going to get an education, I had to act now. I also realized that my drawing teacher was right, I was more interested in the material than in design, so I applied and was accepted into the textile line at The Danish Design School in 1999. I graduated in 2004 as a textile designer specializing in knitting.’
‘I have had my own business since I graduated. I had my workshop space since 2007, it’s in the basement of the building where we live. I have worked with product development for the fashion industry, made my own products, mainly knitted scarves but also clothing, for example the blouse I am wearing. In recent years, my focus has moved gradually towards textile art, and the functional textiles have been, if not shelved, then certainly pushed into the background.’
‘I also teach, I enjoy that. I sometimes have small groups here, but I also teach a night class for psychologically vulnerable people at the Fountain House; that is very meaningful, and I believe that I am good at it. Two days a week I work at Spektrum, a specialty shop that sells dye and quality fabric for textile dyeing and printing.’
Marianne’s husband, Henrik Paludan, pops his head in to say hello and wish us a nice day, he is leaving to go to work. He works with theatre, says Marianne. He directs at Teaterbutikken (the Theatre Shop), which is a drama school for children and young people, and also his own theatre, Teater Portamento.
I dive into Marianne’s archive boxes, superlatives lining up.
‘That one,’ says Marianne, ‘is one of the earliest samples. I never used it for anything. I gimped it on a very large-gauge needle that I had a blacksmith at the design school make for me.’
How did you turn to gimping? I ask. ‘I actually don’t know,’ says Marianne, ‘except that I’ve always been fascinated with testing new techniques and poring over old books on needlecraft. I don’t recall anyone in my family ever gimping, although my mother tells me that as a child, she would gimp frilly borders for homemade slippers.’
I say, half asking, half stating a fact, gimping has never had a real function besides being decorative, has it? That is not entirely true, says Marianne, she has seen gimped collars, but then, a collar is really a form of ornament, isn’t it? In Sweden she saw a shawl at Höganäs Museum, ‘This sample was inspired by it, they also sewed gimped braids into blouses – Lis Paludan has a picture of one in her book on crocheting and gimping techniques.’
One of the archive boxes contains samples developed for Saga Furs, ‘Say what you will about animal welfare, and I do, but Saga Furs was an amazing partner. This must have been in 2007–09, I was developing concepts for them,’ says Marianne. ‘I gimped these for the fashion company Ann Hagen in 2008. – Gimped bonnets as showpieces. Generally, product development was part of my business, back when I had an agent who sold my own and other textile designers’ ideas to the international fashion scene.’
What do you use the gimping technique for now? ‘I have been making gimped prints, dipping the gimped elements, in various yarn qualities, in dye and then made prints on paper or silk in several stages. Some of them are framed, others are boxed up.’
We unbox the boxed-up pieces! ‘I also made items of clothing with crude, gimped yoke,’ I see a dress on a hanger in a corner of the room. ‘I went on to make the cups from the exhibition, in fact I began making those in 2016 for an exhibition at Designer Zoo, I enjoy making them, and there is a demand for them. I just sold one to the Kunstforeningen af 14. august (Art Association of 14 August). I also made Christmas ornaments for jewellery designer Kasia Gasparski’s Christmas exhibition, and here are some “medals” I gimped.’
I would love one of those medals, you could use it as a brooch, or maybe in your hair?
It turns out Marianne had the same idea; she tells me enthusiastically about Designmuseum Danmark’s beautiful collections, which contain wonderful examples of hair ornaments. Even if the roaring 20s were cancelled, with the TV series Babylon Berlin fairly fresh in my memory, I dream aloud of headbands and tiny crocheted hats decorated with gimped medals. ‘If only I had the time,’ says Marianne. ‘After pulling out all these things for me, I so want to delve into my archives. On the other hand, I am also busy with my knitted objects. I held the solo exhibition Becoming in 2018, and I presented at the Artists’ Autumn Exhibition in 2020 in Copenhagen. That gave me the appetite for more. I have a fairly clear idea of my big solo exhibition, and I have support from the Danish Arts Foundation, so I have the funding, and I’m able to focus on my work. Besides, I am working on a book in collaboration with a graphic designer and three researchers. The book and the exhibition deal with the topics of grief and emergence.’
Min umiddelbare tanke var da jeg besøgte marianne Johnstad i 2021: verden skulle bare vide, hvad Marianne Johnstad har i sine gemmer!
Jeg vidste det på forhånd, fordi jeg besøgte hendes værksted første gang i december 2020 i forbindelse med en udstilling, hun havde iscenesat: ‘De gimpede og porcelænet mødes til the og kaffe’.
Udstillingen præsenterede en bordækning med keramik af Pia Baastrup og Ann Linnemann og gimpede kopper, skeer og kander fra hendes egen hånd.
Jeg havde også tidligere været forbi Mariannes univers, idet hendes strikkede halstørklæder indgik i billedserien PRE-LOVED i HÅNDVÆRK bookazine no. 2.
Udstillingen elskede jeg på forhånd, fordi hun mindede mig om en teknik, hvis eksistens jeg næsten havde glemt.
Gimpning kaldes også for gaffelhækling. Til gimpning anvendes en gimpenål, en hæklenål og garn. En gimpenål har to ben og en ‘bro’, der holder benene i samme afstand. Tidligere tiders nåle så ud som en kæmpe hårnål, de fandtes i forskellige størrelser. I dag findes der, foruden ‘hårnålene’, en universel gimpenål. Det vil sige, at man på samme nål kan gøre afstanden større eller mindre.
Udstillingen var i sin lidenhed smuk, men hvad der var endnu smukkere, var, at Marianne åbnede lidt af sit arkiv for mig. Nu har jeg genbesøgt hende. Bedt hende fortælle om sit liv med tekstiler og fået lov til at fotografere noget af alt det, hun har i sine velorganiserede gemmer.
Jeg indleder med: Jeg vil gerne tale med dig om dit arbejde som tekstildesigner og tekstilkunstner. Du er påfaldende mere elegant og romantisk i dit udtryk end nogen anden dansk, jævnaldrende tekstildesigner, som jeg har kendskab til. Jeg kan se på Mariannes afvisende ansigtsudtryk, at ordet romantisk skurrer. Jeg forsøger igen: Din stil er mere feminin og mere sanselig end det gennemsnitlige.
“Feminin og sanselig kan jeg godt forbinde mig med”, svarer hun forsonende, “men jeg kan bedst lide, hvis der er lidt kant”. Mine øjne søger de rå, u-kantede stofstrimler på hendes ellers noble silkebluse, som er bundet i halsen med en sløjfe.
Li Edelkoort insisterer på, at ‘ROMANTISK’ er et af modens absolutte nøgleord i den periode, vi går i møde, fortsætter jeg, hun agiterer for festoner og blonder, vel at mærke ikke den slags blonder, som indgår i den gamle tids sexede undertøj. Det er en ny tid, hun taler om, hun peger med hele hånden på det sanselige, det håndlavede, det unikke og det uperfekte.
“Blonderne har altid været i mit liv”, siger Marianne, “jeg har kasser fyldt med dem, og jeg har sågar en indrammet blondekrave på væggen i stuen, men jeg er nu trods alt nok mest optaget af havet som inspirationskilde.
På Designskolen var romantik et negativt ord, ligesom dekoration var kontroversielt. Både skolen og de studerende, som de var flest, var optaget af strømlinet, industrielt design. Værkstederne blev til min store skuffelse brugt ganske lidt de år. Det afholdt mig imidlertid ikke fra at udforske materialer og teknikker; noget af det, jeg har fundet frem til i dag, stammer fra mine år på skolen, det var der, jeg begyndte at gimpe.”
Men nu er du moderne, konstater jeg, og Marianne svarer, “det lyder fandeme godt”; fandeme er samtalens absolut eneste bandeord, Marianne taler afdæmpet og dannet og udtaler sig kun efter at have vejet sine ord på en guldvægt og siger mere stille, “hvis man forbliver tro mod sit udtryk, så bliver man moderne engang imellem”, og jeg tilføjer, at resten af tiden har man stil, og stil går aldrig af mode.
Du begyndte på designskolen i 1999, du var 34 år og dermed en voksen studerende, hvad lå forud?
“Jeg er født og opvokset i Aalborg og har tilbragt alle mine ferier ved Vesterhavet. Som barn og ung drømte jeg om at blive modedesigner. Jeg flyttede til København, gik på HF og derefter på en privat design- og syskole, hvor jeg over to år lærte tilskæring og syning. Første gang jeg søgte ind på Danmarks Designskole, var det på beklædningslinjen, jeg kom ikke ind. Herefter brugte jeg tid på at blive bedre til at tegne, jeg husker, at min tegnelærer insisterede, “du er ikke modepige, men tekstilpige”. Det afviste jeg på det bestemteste.
Jeg begyndte som freelancesyerske at sy kostumer på forskellige københavnske teatre. Den første produktion, jeg var med på, var Fassbinders ‘Blodet ved kattens hals’ i 1989 på CaféTeatret. Forestillingen er jeg igen og igen blevet mindet om, fordi plakaten hænger på Designmuseum Danmark, hvor jeg i perioder har suppleret min indtægt ved at arbejde som vagt.
Et af mine andre værdifulde teaterminder handler om den legendariske Jean Voigt. Jeg syede under hans direktion til forestillingen ‘Aladdin’ på Gladsaxe Teater.”
(Jean Voigt, 1940-1996 – modeskaber, scenograf og billedkunstner, mest kendt for sine kreationer til ballet og teater. Jean Voigt var uddannet skrædder og arbejdede som ung hos Balenciaga og Pierre Cardin i Paris).
“Han var talentfuld, som person sammensat, men mest af alt utrolig generøs med sin viden. Jeg havde private kunder, som jeg syede til uden for teatrets arbejdstid. Jeg husker en episode, hvor jeg var i gang med en herrejakke, jeg kæmpede med ærmet; Jean Voigt kom igennem lokalet, blå over alt inklusive på tænderne, han var i gang med at spraymale et kostume i kælderen, med få snuptag fik han lirket ærmet på plads i ærmegabet for mig, så det sad helt perfekt.
Foruden kostumearbejdet, som var usikkert og uden nogen garanti for at have ansættelse efter igangværende produktion, lavede jeg også små kollektioner, som jeg solgte gennem en butik i København, jeg lavede brudekjoler på bestilling, og jeg forsøgte mig med en undertøjskollektion.
Jeg havde i mellemtiden fået familie og indså, at skulle jeg tage en uddannelse, var tiden inde. Jeg havde også indset, at min tegnelærer havde ret, jeg var mere optaget af materialet end af formgivning, hvorfor jeg søgte og kom ind på tekstillinjen på Danmarks Designskole i 1999. Jeg blev færdig i 2004 som tekstildesigner med speciale i strik.”
“Jeg har været selvstændig, siden jeg blev færdiguddannet. Mit værkstedslokale har jeg haft siden 2007, det ligger i kælderen i den ejendom, hvor vi bor. Jeg har både arbejdet med produktudvikling til modebranchen, lavet mine egne produkter, primært strikkede tørklæder, men også tøj som for eksempel den bluse, jeg har på. De senere år har mit fokus gradvist bevæget sig mere og mere i retning af tekstilkunst, og brugstekstilerne er, om ikke lagt på hylden, så skubbet i baggrunden.”
“Jeg underviser også, det kan jeg godt lide, dels har jeg nu og da små hold her, men jeg underviser også på aftenskolen for psykisk sårbare i Fountain House, det er meget meningsfuldt, og jeg tror, at jeg er god til det. To dage om ugen arbejder jeg i Spektrum, som er en specialbutik, der sælger farve og tilbehør og gode metervarer til indfarvning og tryk af tekstiler.”
Mariannes mand, Henrik Paludan, stikker hovedet ind og ønsker god dag og god arbejdslyst, han er på vej på job. Han arbejder med teater, fortæller Marianne. Han er instruktør – i Teaterbutikken, som er en teaterskole for børn og unge. Desuden har han sit eget teater, Teater Portamento.
Jeg står på hovedet i arkivkasserne, superlativerne står i kø.
“Den der”, fortæller Marianne, “er en af de tidligste prøver. Jeg har aldrig brugt den til noget. Den er gimpet på meget stor nål, som jeg fik designskolens smed til at lave for mig.”
Hvordan kom du i tanke om at gimpe, vil jeg vide. “Jeg ved det faktisk ikke”, svarer Marianne, “bare har jeg altid været optaget af at teste nye teknikker og af at kigge i gamle håndarbejdsbøger. Jeg kan ikke erindre, at nogen i min familie har gimpet, min mor fortæller dog, at hun som barn gimpede frynsekanter til hjemmesyede indetøfler.”
Jeg halvt spørger, halvt konstaterer: Gimpning har vel aldrig haft en egentlig funktion ud over at være dekorativ? Det er ikke helt korrekt, mener Marianne, hun har set gimpede kraver, men en krave er vel dybest set også til pynt? Hun har også i Sverige set et sjal på Höganäs Museum, “denne her prøve er inspireret af det, man sammensatte også gimpelidserne til hele bluser – Lis Paludan har et billede af en i sin bog om hækle- og gimpeteknik”.
I en af arkivkasserne ligger prøver udviklet for Saga Furs, “man kan mene meget om dyrevelfærd, og det gør jeg, men Saga Furs var en fantastisk samarbejdspartner. Det må have været i perioden 2007-2009, jeg idéudviklede for dem”, fortæller Marianne, “disse har jeg gimpet for modevirksomheden Ann Hagen i 2008. – Gimpede kyser, det var showpieces. Produktudvikling var i det hele taget en del af min metier, dengang jeg var tilknyttet en agent, som solgte mine og andre tekstildesigneres ideer til den internationale modescene.”
Hvad bruger du nu gimpeteknikken til? “Jeg har lavet gimpetryk. Det gimpede, i flere forskellige garnkvaliteter, har jeg dyppet i farve, og derefter har jeg sat aftryk på papir og silke ad flere omgange. Nogle af dem er indrammet, andre ligger pakket ned.”
Det nedpakkede pakker vi op! “Jeg har også lavet beklædningsgenstande med grove gimpede bærestykker”, der hænger en kjole på en bøjle i et hjørne af rummet. “Jeg fortsætter med kopperne fra udstillingen, egentlig begyndte jeg på dem i 2016 til en udstilling i Designer Zoo, jeg kan godt lide at lave dem, og de efterspørges. Jeg har lige solgt en til Kunstforeningen af 14. august. Jeg har også lavet julepynt til smykkedesigner Kasia Gasparskis julekunstnerudstilling, og her er nogle ‘medaljer’, jeg har gimpet.”
Jeg vil gerne have en sådan medalje, den kunne vel være en broche eller hvad med hårpynt?
Det viser sig, at den tanke har Marianne haft, hun fortæller begejstret om Designmuseum Danmarks smukke samlinger, hvor der ligger den fineste hårpynt. Nok er de brølende 20’ere aflyst, men med TV-serien ‘Babylon Berlin’ i forholdsvis frisk erindring drømmer jeg højt om hårbøjler og små hæklede hatte pyntet med de gimpede medaljer. “Der er bare det med tiden”, siger Marianne. “Jeg har fået så meget lyst til at dykke ned i mine arkiver efter at have fundet alt dette frem til dig. På den anden side så er jeg også optaget af mine strikkede objekter. Jeg afholdt soloudstillingen ‘Becoming’ i 2018, og jeg udstillede på ‘Kunstnernes Efterårsudstilling’ i 2020 i København. Det har givet blod på tanden. Jeg ved ret præcist, hvordan min store soloudstilling skal være, og jeg har fået støtte af Statens Kunstfond, så jeg har råd og ro til arbejdet. Desuden er jeg ved at lave en bog i samarbejde med en grafiker og tre forskere. Bogen og udstillingen handler om sorg og tilblivelse.”
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