Belonging in a foreign landscape: A conversation with Yvette Lardinois

I have had many textile experiences in my life. When I was six years old, I attended a Roman Catholic school run by nuns where I learned a lot about textiles. Then I went to a special school to become a teacher in arts, crafts, and design where I made many textiles. During my education, I realized that I wanted to make more sculptural work. I worked with different materials and changed my focus from textile to ceramics. For me, the soft skin of clay and textile has a similar feeling. After this education, I went to the Royal Academy of Arts in Hertogenbosch in the Netherlands and finished my education in ceramics and sculpture in 1988.

After leaving art school, I started working part time in the European Ceramic Work Center. It was an exciting time. Artists from all over the world like Antony Gormley and Tony Cragg came to work with ceramics, which in the ’80s was still a material for potters and ceramic artists. After 10 years, I left the EKWC and worked for 6 years at the Textile Museum. In 2003, I moved to another area in the Netherlands, Zeeland, and worked for almost 20 years at the Zeeuws Museum. One of the most important collections in this museum is the traditional costumes. The exhibitions are always a mix from the collection and contemporary art.

I had my own studio, and I had exhibitions and was very happy. I could do what I wanted to do because I had the money from my job.

I came to Norway first to visit, about 20 years ago, and then to live with my now-husband Frank Åsnes, who is also an artist. Every time I arrived at Sola airport, I saw the åttebladrose pattern. At first, I associated it with my own feelings of love. Then I started reading about it. The åttebladrose is a very important cultural symbol. There was a priest in Norway, Eilert Sundt, who did a social survey on people around 1860. During that time, he saw that the women did such incredible textile works that were never shown outside of their own families. He was editor of the journal Folkevennen. He actively encouraged participation in exhibitions of Norwegian crafts so that women could compare their work to others’ and to show the outside world the excellent quality of their work.

The åttebladrose is a symbol of being together and is connected to the entire national bunad tradition. In the beginning when I came here, I didn’t understand why people put it on. Slowly it is becoming clear – the way clothes and traditions are passed down and recycled. It is something you can have your whole life. You don’t have to go to a store and buy a new thing every time. 

When I came to Norway, I no longer had a platform for my art. Frank was invited to make a sculpture for the sculpture park in Ålvik. It’s a very, very small town that completely revolves around a metal factory. And they have an old office that is now an artist house with a spectacular view on the Hardanger fjord. Then suddenly I had a studio again for a whole month while Frank worked next door. But I had no idea what to do. I decided to go for a walk to the library, which was only open 2 days a week. I went every day it was open for the whole month. I encountered books on traditional costumes in Norway but also all over the world.

The beauty of an artist residency is to confront oneself. What do I want to do? In the studio, there was a big architect’s table with L rulers. I just put paper on it and started drawing grids. And then I said, okay, let’s fill them in. From that point, it went very quickly. I made a long accordion book and a small exhibition, but you can’t do much in a month.

The åttebladrose is a symbol of Norwegian folk art that you can find in many designs in Norway. For me it symbolizes harmony, stability and unity. The åttebladrose tells about identity. 

When I work, my hand moves fluently over the paper. I work with watercolor paint and start to put one of the traditional patterns on the paper. From that point on I intuitively draw new motifs. I look for a balance between the patterns and the open spaces on the paper; the light and dark areas in the watercolors, but I also look for the symmetry and asymmetry in a painting.

Thank you. Yes, the drawing is an extremely meditative, repetitive process. It would have been a very different feeling if I had used printed grid paper. I tried it briefly and I said no. Drawing the lines also gives the work diversity. There are variations in the weight of the line. I also had to experiment with brush sizes and colors – it’s a continual process.

I use the traditional motifs as an inspiration for making new artworks. I look at the past works I made and this functions as an inspiration for a new work. Exactly what develops and changes in a new work which is slightly different. They slowly evolve over time.

Up to now I have made a series of watercolors and a series of embroideries. The process of embroidering is very time consuming. I have made 6 embroideries; 4 in a series with Delft Blue DMC yarn. They are all connected to the winter season (Til Vinteren). And I made 2 smaller ones on my old jeans. Now I’m working to expand the series with new works: to complete the 4 seasons, with titles as Til Sommeren, Til Våren, til Høsten.

The watercolors are autonomous but they are also working drawings for the embroidery pieces. So this was a very natural step. I started to make some small embroideries. And I started to think about a new way of using the finished works. Jeans are durable and long lasting, as is the bunad. I saw a connection there. I still have my Levi Strauss 501 Jeans, which I bought in 1985 in San Francisco. I put the first 2 embroideries on the back pocket of my jeans. 

I do research; I’m reading about the history of bunads. I have asked women and men to show me their bunads and asked them to tell me about their history and the way they use them. I look at bunads in Norwegian museums. I make embroideries inspired by this. I started with the cross stitches. And then I remembered the nuns from my childhood! I used to make many small embroidery samplers when I was small. So I started to look for other techniques. The Hardanger pattern is a very traditional stitch that they use in the bunads. I find this stitch very interesting because it makes holes and squares in the textile. I started to integrate the Hardanger Hol, which is one of the Hardangersaum stitches, in my work. I’m still learning about the Hardangersaum technique.

I like to experiment. I try to see that a ‘mistake’ is a gift in which the drawing or embroidery develops itself. I try to learn from the process. I need some time and distance from my work to understand this.

The åttebladroses and other forms in my watercolors have “corners”. I want to express those forms in the frame. I make the frames from MDF. The first series of 4 embroideries is called Til Vinteren, and the frames are painted with gesso, off white, like snow. The frames are part of the finished work in these cases.

Talking about the Norwegian bunad and heritage and how people look at this is very interesting. I love to do it, and do it often. It is part of my process and I learn a lot about Norway too!

Recently I showed my work in my studio in Stasjon K during OSS (Open Studios Stavanger and Sandes) and at the exhibition Dette er ikke en medlemsutstilling at Rogaland Kunstsenter in Stavanger. I got only very positive reactions. Most of the people are surprised about “the other way” I use the Norwegian heritage. They are proud to share their experiences of how they use and their bunads. The bunad has very strict rules on how to make it. Maybe because I come from another country, I‘m able to make my art works, and that I look at the Norwegian cultural heritage in my own way and work with my own shapes. I feel free to make it without boundaries.