Take It Like a Man
Before traveling to Iceland for the residency at ArtsIceland, I got a chance to to learn of the rich and lively knitting cultures of Scandinavia.
With background in Fashion history, and a fascination with peoples’ relationships to objects, I began investigating the design variations of hand-knitted sweaters from this region, as well as the British Isles and Ireland.
Upon arrival to Ísafjörður, things seemed to magically click together: the town was full of fishing equipment; I was told about an old custom of not teaching sailors how to swim, so that if they fall overboard they have to ‘take it like a man’ and drown instead of risking the others by trying to climb back on board, and elongating their own death; through my research I learned of another folk story, in which sailors who died at sea and washed ashore were recognized by the unique patterns on their sweaters (there is no historical evidence); and of course, dozens of people wearing their Lopapeysur all around town.
“Lopapeysa” is the signature Icelandic sweater. It regained popularity after the country’s financial collapse, which gave rise to slow-living, sourcing & using local produce and crafts.
Traditionally, knitting is mostly a women’s craft, and a practical one. As such its importance, genius and artistry were consistently disregarded - as womens labor tends to become invisible and supefluous.
There are many reasons why women are the ones who knit - being less-than is not one of them. But when such hard work goes unnoticed, especially in our day and age of fast living and social sharing - it can make any work seem pointless. And what’s more pointless than knitting a full sweater from leftover fishing equipment?
I decided to take both gender roles upon myself - and do the heroic albeit delusional task of knitting a plastic Lopapeysa that will become a soft sculpture instead of a wearable handicraft. Due to the physical strain and the time-consuming nature of the project, it is still in progress.
With background in Fashion history, and a fascination with peoples’ relationships to objects, I began investigating the design variations of hand-knitted sweaters from this region, as well as the British Isles and Ireland.
Upon arrival to Ísafjörður, things seemed to magically click together: the town was full of fishing equipment; I was told about an old custom of not teaching sailors how to swim, so that if they fall overboard they have to ‘take it like a man’ and drown instead of risking the others by trying to climb back on board, and elongating their own death; through my research I learned of another folk story, in which sailors who died at sea and washed ashore were recognized by the unique patterns on their sweaters (there is no historical evidence); and of course, dozens of people wearing their Lopapeysur all around town.
“Lopapeysa” is the signature Icelandic sweater. It regained popularity after the country’s financial collapse, which gave rise to slow-living, sourcing & using local produce and crafts.
Traditionally, knitting is mostly a women’s craft, and a practical one. As such its importance, genius and artistry were consistently disregarded - as womens labor tends to become invisible and supefluous.
There are many reasons why women are the ones who knit - being less-than is not one of them. But when such hard work goes unnoticed, especially in our day and age of fast living and social sharing - it can make any work seem pointless. And what’s more pointless than knitting a full sweater from leftover fishing equipment?
I decided to take both gender roles upon myself - and do the heroic albeit delusional task of knitting a plastic Lopapeysa that will become a soft sculpture instead of a wearable handicraft. Due to the physical strain and the time-consuming nature of the project, it is still in progress.
To conclude the residency, I hosted a “Knit & Drink” event at the Museum of Everyday Life, where Ísafjörður’s locals gathered for an artist talk and communal knitting!
Pictures from the event by Inês Quente
Pictures from the event by Inês Quente
