Fascinating Textile Discovery in Scotland

From BBC.com we have an article about a fascinating rare Iron Age textile find on display at the Scottish Crannog Centre in Kenmore, Perthshire. The article can be read here.

The wool textile, radiocarbon dated at the University of Glasgow to be between 480-390 BCE, was discovered in 1979 when an Iron Age dwelling, known as the Oakbank Crannog, was excavated on Loch Tay. (Sadly, that structure was destroyed by fire in 2021.) Previously believed to be too fragile for display, recent conservation work has made it possible to be on display at the Scottish Crannog Centre. The textile, woven of unusually fine yarn for the era, also bears remnants of what may be a hem, make it particularly interesting to historian of early costume. The BBC.com article includes a photograph of the find, which displays an interesting pinstripe textural effect.

If anyone who reads this post has a chance to visit the Crannog Centre and view the textile, please post and let me know!

Margrethe Hald Archive

I have spent too much time being, alternately, busy, exhausted, and sick, to want to blog much. But the discovery I made on the Internet today is worth sharing. The Centre for Textile Research at the University of Copenhagen has made the Margrethe Hald Archive available on the Internet! The archive consists of PDF copies of papers that Professor Hald authored or co-authored during her lifetime, free to download. The page you need to access is here. Please note; most of these papers were written in Danish, not English; the PDFs are of pre-computer age originals. I first learned about Professor Hald with regard to her work on Danish textiles and shoes worn during the Iron Age, she also worked on other ancient textiles, notably in Peru. Enjoy exploring!

A Late Iron Age Grave in Switzerland

Grave reconstruction including tree coffin.
[Reproduced in Archaeology News Network article.
Image from: Amt für Städtebau, City of Zurich]

A recent article from Archaeology News Network provides some fascinating information about a grave found in the city of Zurich, Switzerland, back in March 2017. The archaeologists have completed their evaluation of the find, the remains of a Celtic woman buried in a log coffin, which has been dated to around 200 BCE.

The remains yielded a substantial amount of information about the woman and the clothing in which she was buried.  They have ascertained that the woman was about 40 years old when she died, but had not done a lot of physical labor during her lifetime and had eaten a lot of starchy or sweetened foods.  Isotope analysis confirmed that she was from the Limmat Valley--what is now the Zurich area.

Analysis of the clothing remains further supports the view that she was wealthy.  Analysis of the textile, fur, leather and jewelry remains in the grave show that she was buried in a fine wool dress, fastened with T-shaped fibulae, a wool layer (possibly a cloak or overdress) over her dress, and a wool coat lined with sheepskin over that. The artists' renditions show her wearing a white veil, though the article does not explain what part of the find, if any, supports that deduction.  A strand of blue and yellow beads was worn over her chest, fastened by the fibulae.  

The full article can be read here.  It is illustrated with artists' renditions of the woman's clothing and of the layout of her grave, as well as color photographs of the jewelry found in the grave.  It will be worth keeping an eye out for any scientific analyses that may be published about this find.

Anna Zariņa's Legacy

From Balticsmith's post on the Facebook group Viking Era Textiles and Fiber Arts, I learned tonight that archaeologist and costume historian Anna Zariņa passed away earlier this year.

I knew that Professor Zariņa was the authority on early Latvian costume, but Balticsmith's post includes a short obituary/biography that underscores the impressiveness of her achievements.  She was born into a farming family.  Her original degrees were in agriculture and home economics, but while she was at university she was exposed to Latvian folk costume and began to study it. Eventually, she learned archaeological field methods and began expanding her research into Latvian prehistory, as far back as the Bronze Age.

In short, if you know anything at all about Latvian costume, chances are you are recalling something Professor Zariņa wrote, or a summary of something Professor Zariņa wrote that was written by someone else.

Balticsmith's post includes a link to a PDF copy of a book by Professor Zariņa whose title means, in English, "Garments in Latvia from the 7th to 17th Centuries." That book can be downloaded from here.  It is written in Latvian, with a German language summary, but it is well-enough illustrated that it should be of use, and of interest, to costume scholars who don't read Latvian (or German).  I am passing the link on in the hope that it will be of use to researchers interested in clothing of the Baltic countries.  Professor Zariņa's legacy is the knowledge she researched and published, and I can think of no better way to honor her than to use and spread that knowledge.

Early Period Links

I'm still not ready to return to regular costume blogging, but over the past day I've found a number of fascinating Early Period links that I'd like to bring to the attention of my readers.  Most of these involve serious reproduction projects.

First of all, textile geeks and Early Period costuming buffs will want to check out Carolyn Priest-Dorman's latest post (just a day after her re-posted Viking double weave article) about her project to attempt to replicate textile specimen Jorvik 1307.  She started by spinning warp and weft yarns of  thicknesses and wool types to match the original.  I'm always humbled when I read about people taking clothing recreations to this level.

Over at The Reverend's Big Blog of Leather, I found an article by the eponymous Wayne Robinson describing how he made a pair of 6th-7th century CE Anglo-Saxon shoes he made, based on one of the Sutton Hoo finds.  Recent posts by "the Reverend" that are also shoe-related include this short post, with large, clear color pictures, about the world's oldest shoe, and this post and this post about late 16th century shoe horns.

From Irish Archaeology's website comes this recent article about an Iron Age body found in County Offaly wearing a very modern-looking leather-and-metal armband. Known as Old Croghan Man, the find is dated to between 362 BCE and 175 BCE. The article features a beautiful photograph of the armband that deserves a place on one of my Pinterest boards.

Finally, The Greenland Gown Project by Doreen M. Gunkel merits a serious look from students of early and medieval costume. She is in the process of making a replica of one of the 13th century Norse gowns discovered at Herjolfsnaes in Greenland.  She is starting by researching and searching for an appropriate breed of sheep from which to obtain suitable wool fleece to spin into yarn to use to weave fabric for the gown. Ms. Gunkel asks interested readers to register, but registration is free and gets you e-mail updates as she writes about new developments in the project. 

Happy reading!

The Blue Iron Age Skirt--In Living Color!

Fortunately, I did not have a second misadventure with my February project; the Iron Age skirt I made fits just fine.  I persuaded my wonderful husband, Eric, to take some photographs of me wearing it with the bog blouse I made for an HSF challenge last year; this is the photograph that worked best with this post.  Unfortunately, the weather here is far too cold for me to want to wear such thin garments outdoors, so the backgrounds are not even remotely authentic. 

It occurred to me after I wrote my previous post about this skirt that I *do* have a source of suitable blue wool for my peplos.  I bought 5 yards of blue wool flannel some years ago, to make a copy of the tunic shown in the Historiska Museet's Viking woman's costume reconstruction. As I wrote here a while ago, I ultimately decided not to imitate the Historiska Museet's tunic, but I did not find a different use for the fabric. Last summer, I cut an approximately two-yard-long piece of the flannel to use as an impromptu cloak for an improvised costume, and that piece should be long enough for my purposes. Even if it's not, I can get more than enough fabric from the remaining three yards.  March's HSM challenge is "Stashbusting", so such a use of my blue flannel should be ideal for March's project. Perhaps as the year wears on I'll have time to work on a project that requires more challenge to my skills. 

NOTE:  In my last post on the Huldremose skirt, I cited the Science Nordic article about Professor Mannering's recent work, which states that the lady's costume included "a petticoat of nettle."  Somehow, I missed that detail when I read the article the first time!  

The Find of the Century

The article that has excited me the most in NESAT XI is one about a grave find that I hadn't even been aware of before I started reading the book.  That article describes a grave find in Hammerum, Denmark that has been dated to the early third century C.E.:  

Mannering, Ulla and Knudsen, Lise Raeder.  Hammerum:  The Find of the Century. NESAT XI (pp. 154-160).

Three graves have thus far been excavated at Hammerum, but it's Grave 83 that Professors Mannering and Knudsen call the "find of the century."  This find contains the complete costume of the young woman buried there, along with two other textiles whose functions are tantalizingly suggestive.   The woman's coiffure also survived nearly intact, which may well provide information that will eventually allow her entire appearance to be reconstructed even though no remains of the rest of her body--not even a single bone--survive. The find is all the more exciting because the grave goods found with her body were not extensive or rich, which may indicate that the woman in Grave 83 at Hammerum shows how ordinary women dressed in Denmark during this period.

The most striking element of the find is the survival of a nearly complete peplos, or tube-shaped dress, which was generally worn by women throughout Europe during this period.  This peplos was woven in wool in a 2/2 twill.  The Mannering-Knudsen article indicates that this is the presently visible color; dye testing has been completed but the results are being reserved for the final write-up about the find. (p. 160)  Missing warp threads fall in narrow stripes, and some parts of that warp pattern are preserved, indicating that the stripes were woven from white wool. The peplos was trimmed with a woven band in red, white, and blue.  No metal was found in the grave, and it is unclear whether the dress was fastened at the shoulders with wood or bone pins or was sewn together.

Two other textiles were found in the Hammerum grave, both in a fragmentary form; Professors Mannering and Knudsen refer to them as Textile 2 and Textile 3 (the peplos is called The Dress in the article).  Textile 2 is a also a 2/2 twill, woven from a "whitish" wool.  It too has stripes, but here the stripes appear also to be in white wool, indicating that the striping was done with wool of a different texture creating a tone-on-tone pattern.  The pieces of this textile were found on the top part of the Dress and around its back.  The authors do not speculate about its function, but that location suggests a scarf or small shawl, as does its probable size--127 cm wide (about 50 inches).  Textile 3 is woven from white and red wool in a 2/2 twill.  It was found underneath the woman and near her knees, but it is too fragmentary to ascertain the textile's pattern, let alone its clothing function.  Professors Mannering and Knudsen have determined that this textile was at least 23 cm wide by 48 cm high (about 9 inches by 18 inches).

The most exciting part about the clothing of the woman in Grave 83 is the evidence that she was not particularly wealthy--i.e. the total absence of metal jewelry or other metal grave goods.  The authors believe this indicates that the woman in grave 83 is wearing the type of clothing an ordinary woman might have worn in third century Denmark. That's a true rarity in archaeological finds (though NESAT XI also has articles that discuss a different "ordinary person" outfit--that of the Gunnister Man--in great detail).  It's wonderful to see archaeology  giving the world information about the clothing of the ordinary person in ancient times. 

The Bog Blouse, in wear

Here are some long awaited photographs of my Bog Blouse, being worn.  The images are clickable for a larger version.

The blouse tends to pull uncomfortably around the armpits and the tops of the breasts, and the neckline binds a bit when the blouse rides up, but it looks surprisingly good when I have it on.  I made the skirt years ago, based on the Huldremose skirt; it's 100% wool in a 2/2 twill weave (which is period) but my idea that the pattern of the plaid is period is based upon rank speculation.    Still, the two garments look well together--and what's more, they look period, and that pleases me.  (I'll make a better-fitting bog blouse again, sometime).  All three photographs were taken by my loving husband.  Please forgive the funny facial expressions--I can't always manage to smile on command.

On my haunches--a more period posture, at least

The blouse, at rest

The outfit in (too) bright sunshine

Penelope Walton Rogers on Dyed Fabric From Iron Age Norway and Denmark

About three years ago, I wrote a post about likely colors for Viking apron dresses that attracted a significant number of comments.  One of the commenters was Hilde Thunem, who has written a lot about Viking costume herself. Hilde mentioned that Penelope Walton (now Penelope Walton Rogers), a British archaeologist who has done a significant amount of chemical analysis of dyes on early European textiles, had said anything of relevance to our discussion in either of two articles she had published about her work on Viking age textiles. I have a copy of one of the articles, and offered to re-read it to see whether it had information that might be useful on the question of apron dress colors.

That was in December 2010. Oops.

Anyway, I was reminded of that discussion when someone else recently posted a new comment in it, and I decided that it was high time for me to re-read the article and summarize the most useful parts. The citation for the article is:

Walton, Penelope. Dyes and Wools in Iron Age Textiles from Norway and Denmark. Journal of Danish Archaeology, vol. 7, pp. 144-158 (1988).

More than half of the article consists of a detailed and technical analysis of surviving fabric fragments to ascertain what types of sheep, and what parts of the sheep, the fibers in the fabrics came from, but the last six pages or so discuss Walton's dye analysis of Viking age textile finds.  Because most of Walton's analysis is not linked to what types of garments the tested specimens may have come from, and many of the samples discussed by Walton pre-date the Viking period, her analysis is not obviously relevant to our apron dress question, but the information it does provide supplies some interesting support for further inference and deduction.

Walton begins her discussion of dyes by saying that indigotin, the blue pigment from woad and (in countries where it grows) indigo, was the most common dye substance found in the Viking age wool fragments and that it was found in both coarse and fine textiles. She notes that, though woad was not originally native to northern Europe, archaeological finds of woad seeds suggest that it had reached Scandinavia by the Roman period.

Walton points out that some of the Scandinavian wool samples contained enough indigotin to have been very dark shades of blue.  In some of the Evebo/Eide samples it formed a "rich, deep stripe" on a red or orange background; in some of the Veka textiles it was used only on warp threads, so those twills would show dark diagonal lines of twill on a white background, and the Birka diamond twills were so dark as to be nearly black.  Walton also noted that when some specimens from Sandanger, Skjervum, and Sandegaard were tested, the indigotin was easily removed by tests for mordant dyes, though not by tests for vat dyes (which woad is).  Walton concluded from this that the indigotin had been applied over a mordant dye, though no mordant dyes proper were detected.  Walton suggested that this mysterious mordant dye might have produced a yellow color, and notes that tests of other textiles clearly indicated that woad had been used together with a yellow dye (possibly to produce a green).

Then Walton discussed specimens that tested positive for dyes that produce red shades.  She found that textiles from three of the wealthier graves in Norway, namely, Snartemo V, Veiem, and Evebø/Eide, tested positive for the substance alizarin, indicating that those textiles had been dyed with Rubia tinctorum L., otherwise known as dyers' madder.  This is curious because these graves date to the Migration Period. Although madder has been known to have been cultivated in Paris (by the 9th century CE) and England (about the same time), there's no clear evidence that it was found in Gaul, or in Scandinavia, during the Migration Period.  Walton suggests that either the dye, or madder-dyed textiles, may have been imported, given the wealth of the graves where it was found.  On the other hand, in textiles from Sejlflod and Hejrhøj in Denmark, a similar red dye that did not test positive for alizarin was found, ruling out dyers' madder as a source but suggesting that a similar, native-grown dye plant was used; Walton suggests Galium verum L. and Galium odoratum (L) as possibilities.  Walton did not succeed in ascertaining what substance produced the red seen on the Lønne Hede textiles, but eliminated some possibilities, including kermes, fungus red dyes, Rumex crispus, and Rubia and Galium discussed above.

Two Norwegian samples in particular, Veiem C348 and Evebø/Eide B4590, tested positive for one of the red insect dyes.  An extraction test ruled out cochineal (highly unlikely this early in Europe anyway) and lac. Walton suggests that the results for the Veiem sample are consistent with Polish cochineal; the Evebø/Eide specimen gave results that could be consistent either with kermes or Polish cochineal.  Polish cochineal might, Walton notes, have been available to Scandinavians through trade with the Baltic region during the Migration Period, and kermes from trade with the eastern Mediterranean or Near East.

Finally, textiles from Thorsbjerg in northern Germany and Fløjstrup in Denmark were detected to contain a lichen-based purple dye.  Some of the plants that can be used to produce such a dye are native to Scandinavia, but their use of dye plants does not seem to have been part of the native repertoire.  Walton accordingly suggests that this dye, or the textiles on which it was found, came from Frisia.  The Fløjstrup textile was particularly likely to be an import because it was made in an "unusual weave" (Walton references Margrethe Hald's Ancient Danish Textiles from Bogs and Burials, at page 100, on this point), and opines that it will not be possible to identify the source of the purple dye without identifying the provenance of the weave used to make the fabric where it was found.

I hope Hilde Thunem, and anyone else with an interest in dyeing, textiles, or clothing of early northern Europe, finds this summary interesting.  Anyone who is interested in obtaining this article for research purposes, please contact me via Google + or leave a comment.

New Books of Interest to Early Period Costumers

Over the past day or so, I have learned of three books that are coming soon that are of great interest to me, and may interest other costumers intrigued by the Viking Era.

One of those books comes from Finland, and is written in both Finnish and English. It is about Finnish tablet weaving patterns during the Iron Age (which includes what many of us think of as the "Viking age") and is coming out on June 20, 2013. Here is the citation information (in English):

Karisto, Maikki & Pasanen, Mervi. Applesies and Fox Noses - Finnish Tabletwoven Bands. Salakirjat, 2013.

Annika Madejska wrote about this book, and about her experience in beta testing a tablet weaving pattern described in the book, in her blog, Textile Time Travels. The post includes a beautiful photograph of the band Annika wove using the directions from the book. You can read her post about the book here. The book will sell for 25 Euros, and can be pre-ordered here. (Note: they take Paypal.)

The second book, which is being published and sold through Oxbow/David Brown, is a book about textile experiments intended to help us learn more about ancient textiles. More specifically, it contains lectures and reports on experiments from the First and Second European Textile Forums in 2009 and 2010. An article by Katrin Kania of a stitch in time is one of the articles in the book, which is going to be published later this year. This page from Oxbow's website contains pricing information (Oxbow will, as the publisher, be offering the book for less than the price quoted by Amazon) as well as the table of contents for the book. The citation information is as follows:

Hopkins, Heather (ed.) Ancient Textiles, Modern Science. Oxbow Books (2013).

Finally, the third book, which is will also be an Oxbow Books publication, addresses "Viking" costume. Specifically, it's about the use of silk by the Vikings to decorate clothing. Here's the citation information:

Vedeler, Marianne. Silk for the Vikings. Oxbow Books (2014).

Judging from Oxbow's description, this book will cover everything from the actual silk finds in the graves, to how silk found its way to Viking age Scandinavia, to the social roles silk played in Viking society. Oxbow's page about the book may be found here.

I am immensely pleased to see more and more books being published about early period costume and textiles, though I'm also frustrated that so much good material is being published at a time when I cannot afford to purchase a lot of expensive books. Hopefully, my finances will improve before the tide of good publications abates.

An Observation About Tablet-Weaving Patterns

Like many Americans, I first learned how to do tablet weaving from Candace Crockett's book, Card Weaving.

Crockett's book is a godsend to the would-be weaver in a number of ways. For one, if you purchase it new it comes with a set of pre-marked, 4-hole cardboard weaving tablets that are sturdy enough for many uses, so that if you decide tablet weaving is not for you, you're only out the amount of money you paid for your book and for the yarn. For another, the book is written in very clear language with good illustrations, so that it's pretty easy to learn the basic process from the book alone. Finally, the book includes a number of different, simple patterns for a new weaver to try.

As I learn more about the construction of historical tablet weaving bands, particularly those from the Migration Period and the early Middle Ages, it occurs to me that there is a big disadvantage to the Crockett book. That disadvantage is that it inadvertently misleads the reader as to the types of tablet weaving techniques that were common during the periods when tablet weaving was used in the West. One easy-to-spot consequence of this is the prevalence of the "Kivrim" or "Ram's Horn" pattern (images and tutorial here for those interested) that Crockett's book teaches and that a lot of new tablet weavers start with. It's a lovely pattern, but one doesn't see examples of it among Migration Period or medieval European finds.

What one does see in the early European finds are patterns based on short diagonal motifs, such as the Snartnemo II pattern I'm hoping to recreate. As I spotted more and more of such patterns on the Internet, I learned that many, if not all, of such patterns use what has been called the "skip hole" technique--i.e., they are woven with tablets that do not have threads in every hole.  The Lagore Crannog band that I struggled with is another example of such a band, and there are others, including, but by no means limited to, this band from Laceby, England, this band from 13th-14th century CE Estonia, and this band from 6th century BCE Hochdorf.   Although it certainly cannot be said that all ancient bands used a missed-hole technique (this band from the grave of 7th century CE Queen Bathilde in France did not, though a different band in the grave does), the missed-hole technique was much more commonly used in early European tablet-woven bands than  Ms. Crockett's book seems to imply.

I suspect that Ms. Crockett downplayed the use of missed-hole technique because her book was aimed at beginners and, as my experience of the Lagore Crannog band demonstrated, missed-hole weaving can be tricky because the cards are more likely to shift during weaving.  Given how many early bands use the technique, however, I think more SCA members and early period reeenactors should experiment with it. It's a great way to develop a feel for the type of band patterns that are "period" for those times and to generate trim that is appropriate and attractive for period costume.

Interesting Article On Iron Age Clothes

I'm not up for doing a long, detailed post tonight, but I'd like to direct those of you who may be interested in Iron Age Scandinavian clothing to this article that appeared recently on the Science Nordic site.

Archaeologist Ulla Mannering is taking another look at the Huldremose woman's clothing, which consists of a wool plaid skirt, a scarf, and two sheepskin capes.  It's been determined that the Huldremose woman was placed in the bog sometime in the second century BCE, information that's been available on the website of the National Museum of Denmark, which is where the Huldremose remains are kept. (You can find an excellent, zoomable picture of the entire ensemble, minus accessories, here.)

Two interesting facts are highlighted by the Science Nordic article.  One is that the Huldremose woman's clothing was originally dyed in bright colors--yellow, red, and blue--though it does not look like that today. Moreover, her outfit consists of a number of different types of textiles (including a cape that was made from the skins of at least 14 different sheep). The amount of different resources involved in making her costume shows that she was a high-ranking person in her place and time period.

But the more fascinating detail in the article, to me, is Mannering's suggestion that both bright color and pattern--such as the plaid of the Huldremose woman's skirt--first came to European clothing in the Iron Age. "That's 500 years earlier than previously thought," the article quotes her as saying.  Bronze Age clothing was uniformly monotone and undyed--something I hadn't realized.

The Science Nordic article doesn't mention whether Mannering is going to write a book or article on her new analysis and discovery, but I would be surprised if she does not, and I intend to keep a lookout for one.