Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.188-204
Malvo Tominga
The article recounts a story of a traditional Estonian earth building renovation. It was the first project for the author as an independent entrepreneur in the field of earth building. The project started in 2018 and has continued until the present day. The article gives a detailed description of the works carried out during the summer of 2018, which contained renovation of the earthen walls. The building consists of three sections (drawing 1); the present article focuses on the renovation works of the northernmost part. Special attention is paid to the issues of drawing up the budget in four steps: initial visit to the site; budgeting, assembling the team, and actual work on the site. The work on the site, in turn, consists of three major segments of different natures: the rooting of a tree stump and renovation of the foundation behind it, reconstructing a dilapidated and unstable partition wall, and reconstructing the northern outer wall. The process is relayed in an autoethnographic way, by combining detailed and informal description. For the author it was his first experience in independently drawing up a budget for a major renovation work. The photos taken during the initial visit to the site turned out to be deficient in terms of estimating the amount of necessary repairs. The duration of time for carrying out all the necessary work was estimated by following the advice of a mentor: think of how long it would take if you did all the work alone. The team was formed of fellow students who had some previous experience in earth building renovation. Members of the team had to be willing to live on the site in rather limited camping conditions, as no reasonably priced lodging was available in the area. Over the course of the actual renovation, it became evident that the amount of cob mix initially ordered was considerably less than what was actually needed. Fortunately, the providers of the material were flexible. In addition, the time for carrying out the work was also underestimated. One of the most intriguing challenges of the project was the renovation of a heavily dilapidated partition wall. Economically, such an undertaking was not a feasible idea, but it provided invaluable experience as a learning process. On the outer, northern wall of the building, traces of earlier repair attempts had to be removed before starting the actual renovation works. Layers of adhesion mix and cob mix were applied, following the original layers of the wall. This work took a week. As it had been difficult to estimate the volume of the work on this wall beforehand, it had been left out of the initial budgeting plan, which in turn provided the opportunity to make corrections in the final expenses and to finish the first phase of the project without falling into financial deficit. In conclusion – the project provided more priceless experiences than any other subcontracted work previously done. Keywords: earth building renovation, earth building, clay, traditi
{"title":"Savihoone renoveerimise lugu: tagasivaateid esimesele projektile / Renovating a traditional Estonian earth building: reflections on my first project","authors":"Malvo Tominga","doi":"10.12697/sv.2022.14.188-204","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.12697/sv.2022.14.188-204","url":null,"abstract":"The article recounts a story of a traditional Estonian earth building renovation. It was the first project for the author as an independent entrepreneur in the field of earth building. The project started in 2018 and has continued until the present day. The article gives a detailed description of the works carried out during the summer of 2018, which contained renovation of the earthen walls. The building consists of three sections (drawing 1); the present article focuses on the renovation works of the northernmost part. Special attention is paid to the issues of drawing up the budget in four steps: initial visit to the site; budgeting, assembling the team, and actual work on the site. The work on the site, in turn, consists of three major segments of different natures: the rooting of a tree stump and renovation of the foundation behind it, reconstructing a dilapidated and unstable partition wall, and reconstructing the northern outer wall. The process is relayed in an autoethnographic way, by combining detailed and informal description. \u0000For the author it was his first experience in independently drawing up a budget for a major renovation work. The photos taken during the initial visit to the site turned out to be deficient in terms of estimating the amount of necessary repairs. The duration of time for carrying out all the necessary work was estimated by following the advice of a mentor: think of how long it would take if you did all the work alone. The team was formed of fellow students who had some previous experience in earth building renovation. Members of the team had to be willing to live on the site in rather limited camping conditions, as no reasonably priced lodging was available in the area. \u0000Over the course of the actual renovation, it became evident that the amount of cob mix initially ordered was considerably less than what was actually needed. Fortunately, the providers of the material were flexible. In addition, the time for carrying out the work was also underestimated. \u0000One of the most intriguing challenges of the project was the renovation of a heavily dilapidated partition wall. Economically, such an undertaking was not a feasible idea, but it provided invaluable experience as a learning process. \u0000On the outer, northern wall of the building, traces of earlier repair attempts had to be removed before starting the actual renovation works. Layers of adhesion mix and cob mix were applied, following the original layers of the wall. This work took a week. As it had been difficult to estimate the volume of the work on this wall beforehand, it had been left out of the initial budgeting plan, which in turn provided the opportunity to make corrections in the final expenses and to finish the first phase of the project without falling into financial deficit. In conclusion – the project provided more priceless experiences than any other subcontracted work previously done. \u0000Keywords: earth building renovation, earth building, clay, traditi","PeriodicalId":245575,"journal":{"name":"Studia Vernacula","volume":"22 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-11-14","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"115447062","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.35-42
M. Arukask
The translation article of this volume of Studia Vernacula is an essay on cultural appropriation by the American folklorist Jason Baird Jackson. This is an abridged version of the original article, which the author has reworked for our journal. Cultural appropriation is a phenomenon that can occur whenever there is contact between two (or more) social groups, especially when the balance of power (economic, political, symbolic, etc.) between them is not equal. The group in a position of power appropriates (takes over, essentially robs) the cultural phenomena – both spiritual and material – of the other and misuses them. As might be expected, the most obvious cases of cultural appropriation occur in countries and regions with a long colonial heritage, more precisely, in those where the problem has later been thoroughly acknowledged and a voice given to the aggrieved group, often the oppressed indigenous people, but also other (ethno-)cultural minorities. Awareness of cultural appropriation always presupposes some kind of awakened consciousness on the part of the minority group, and the ability to communicate the problem beyond its own inner circle. Cultural appropriation can also be recognised from the outside, as an ethical problem among the dominant group. Nevertheless, some kind of subjectivity on the part of the affected side is indispensable here – so as not to be merely the object of external patronage without any capacity or wish to change the situation itself. The Estonian reader might be concerned with the question of whether and to what extent it is possible to speak of cultural appropriation in Estonian ethnography or cultural history. Does the position inherent in American folkloristics, where the question of colonial heritage and the study of “other” peoples is clearly at the forefront, resonate with the (Eastern) European, Herderian approach to heritage, which seems to have been unanimously “ours” all along? In order to answer this question, we should first discuss possible minority groups in Estonia. So far, the Estonian state has been reluctant to grant anyone the legal status of an indigenous people for fear of setting a precedent, also in order to prevent any complications that might arise in connection with this. Nevertheless, some ethno-territorial groups in Estonia have at least expressed the wish to consider themselves as indigenous peoples separate from “ordinary Estonians”. In this context, we can also point to instances of cultural appropriation, where material or non-material heritage has been collected from a community and brought to community to museums, probably not always using the most transparent methods. The researcher-collector, as representative of the scientific community, is always in a position of power. Formal and symbolic authority plays a role, so it is possible to manipulate the local people. Similarly, the history of Finno-Ugric research expeditions is not free from selfish or arrogant attitudes towards
{"title":"Kultuurilisest omastamisest maailmas ja meil: saateks / On cultural appropriation in the world and in Estonia: a preface","authors":"M. Arukask","doi":"10.12697/sv.2022.14.35-42","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.12697/sv.2022.14.35-42","url":null,"abstract":"The translation article of this volume of Studia Vernacula is an essay on cultural appropriation by the American folklorist Jason Baird Jackson. This is an abridged version of the original article, which the author has reworked for our journal. Cultural appropriation is a phenomenon that can occur whenever there is contact between two (or more) social groups, especially when the balance of power (economic, political, symbolic, etc.) between them is not equal. The group in a position of power appropriates (takes over, essentially robs) the cultural phenomena – both spiritual and material – of the other and misuses them. \u0000As might be expected, the most obvious cases of cultural appropriation occur in countries and regions with a long colonial heritage, more precisely, in those where the problem has later been thoroughly acknowledged and a voice given to the aggrieved group, often the oppressed indigenous people, but also other (ethno-)cultural minorities. Awareness of cultural appropriation always presupposes some kind of awakened consciousness on the part of the minority group, and the ability to communicate the problem beyond its own inner circle. Cultural appropriation can also be recognised from the outside, as an ethical problem among the dominant group. Nevertheless, some kind of subjectivity on the part of the affected side is indispensable here – so as not to be merely the object of external patronage without any capacity or wish to change the situation itself. \u0000The Estonian reader might be concerned with the question of whether and to what extent it is possible to speak of cultural appropriation in Estonian ethnography or cultural history. Does the position inherent in American folkloristics, where the question of colonial heritage and the study of “other” peoples is clearly at the forefront, resonate with the (Eastern) European, Herderian approach to heritage, which seems to have been unanimously “ours” all along? In order to answer this question, we should first discuss possible minority groups in Estonia. So far, the Estonian state has been reluctant to grant anyone the legal status of an indigenous people for fear of setting a precedent, also in order to prevent any complications that might arise in connection with this. \u0000Nevertheless, some ethno-territorial groups in Estonia have at least expressed the wish to consider themselves as indigenous peoples separate from “ordinary Estonians”. In this context, we can also point to instances of cultural appropriation, where material or non-material heritage has been collected from a community and brought to community to museums, probably not always using the most transparent methods. The researcher-collector, as representative of the scientific community, is always in a position of power. Formal and symbolic authority plays a role, so it is possible to manipulate the local people. Similarly, the history of Finno-Ugric research expeditions is not free from selfish or arrogant attitudes towards","PeriodicalId":245575,"journal":{"name":"Studia Vernacula","volume":"146 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-11-14","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"123483702","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.126-149
Kadi Vingisaar, Eda Kivisild
Headwear is an integral part of any traditional set of women’s clothing. It varies a lot according to the region, age and social status of the wearer. In the present article, we focus on linukas or tailed coif: Estonian women’s traditional festive headwear (see photo 5) that was worn in Central and Northern Estonia in the 18th century (see the distribution map in drawing 3). During the first half of the 19th century, their use in everyday wear became more scarce and they were used mostly as bridal headwear. By the middle of the 19th century, they had disappeared from wider use. Tailed coifs were expensive garments that only the wealthiest peasants could afford, and were worn especially on festive occasions. The term linukas derives from the word lina, i.e linen. Originally it could denote a sheet of cloth that was tied around the head in the manner of a Mulgi woman’s headwear. A tailed coif (see drawing 2) consists of a decorated linen tail hanging on the wearer’s back and of a chaplet (pärg). When linukas was worn, hair was left loose, as it is depicted in the drawings and in the descriptions of the 18th century Estonian peasants. Some items have embroidered forehead bands that indicate the possibility of wearing the sheet without a chaplet. Linukas was made of fine linen or cotton; the tails were decorated with embroidery that used either white linen thread or black or coloured silk thread as the material. In addition to embroidered embellishments, metallic galloon trimmings and fringes could be attached to the items. Tailed coifs spread mainly in Järva, Northern Viljandi, Viru and Eastern Harju counties. These regions are known for good soils that sustain agriculture. Põltsamaa, a major town of the region, was historically known as an important crafts centre that drew skilled masters of German origin. Based on the composition of the embroidery on its hanging ends and how the tail was stitched together, two main types can be distinguished. The first group of tailed coifs, the items worn in the vicinity of Põltsamaa, have a twopart pattern, parted by the seam that is covered with metallic galloon trimming. Lower edges of the tail also have trimming and fringes. The second group includes coifs with a pattern covering the tail as a single composition and the seam is either on the side or underneath the tail. This type of tailed coif does not have fringes, but may have trimmings of galloon or lace. The main area of distribution of this type of coif is Järvamaa. Traditionally, folk costume has been described in terms of ethnography and art history. Less attention has been paid to the geographical distribution of certain items and the ways of wearing them. During recent decades, the study of traditional folk costume has become more technology-orientated and practice-based in Estonia. In our research, we mainly looked for the wear marks that can indicate how the pieces were tied onto the head. Currently, only one way of wearing tailed coifs preva
{"title":"Linukaid võib kanda mitut moodi: ei ole õiget ega valet kandmisviisi / Linukas, traditional tailed coif, can be worn in many ways","authors":"Kadi Vingisaar, Eda Kivisild","doi":"10.12697/sv.2022.14.126-149","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.12697/sv.2022.14.126-149","url":null,"abstract":"Headwear is an integral part of any traditional set of women’s clothing. It varies a lot according to the region, age and social status of the wearer. In the present article, we focus on linukas or tailed coif: Estonian women’s traditional festive headwear (see photo 5) that was worn in Central and Northern Estonia in the 18th century (see the distribution map in drawing 3). During the first half of the 19th century, their use in everyday wear became more scarce and they were used mostly as bridal headwear. By the middle of the 19th century, they had disappeared from wider use. Tailed coifs were expensive garments that only the wealthiest peasants could afford, and were worn especially on festive occasions. \u0000The term linukas derives from the word lina, i.e linen. Originally it could denote a sheet of cloth that was tied around the head in the manner of a Mulgi woman’s headwear. A tailed coif (see drawing 2) consists of a decorated linen tail hanging on the wearer’s back and of a chaplet (pärg). When linukas was worn, hair was left loose, as it is depicted in the drawings and in the descriptions of the 18th century Estonian peasants. Some items have embroidered forehead bands that indicate the possibility of wearing the sheet without a chaplet. Linukas was made of fine linen or cotton; the tails were decorated with embroidery that used either white linen thread or black or coloured silk thread as the material. In addition to embroidered embellishments, metallic galloon trimmings and fringes could be attached to the items. \u0000Tailed coifs spread mainly in Järva, Northern Viljandi, Viru and Eastern Harju counties. These regions are known for good soils that sustain agriculture. Põltsamaa, a major town of the region, was historically known as an important crafts centre that drew skilled masters of German origin. \u0000Based on the composition of the embroidery on its hanging ends and how the tail was stitched together, two main types can be distinguished. The first group of tailed coifs, the items worn in the vicinity of Põltsamaa, have a twopart pattern, parted by the seam that is covered with metallic galloon trimming. Lower edges of the tail also have trimming and fringes. The second group includes coifs with a pattern covering the tail as a single composition and the seam is either on the side or underneath the tail. This type of tailed coif does not have fringes, but may have trimmings of galloon or lace. The main area of distribution of this type of coif is Järvamaa. \u0000Traditionally, folk costume has been described in terms of ethnography and art history. Less attention has been paid to the geographical distribution of certain items and the ways of wearing them. During recent decades, the study of traditional folk costume has become more technology-orientated and practice-based in Estonia. In our research, we mainly looked for the wear marks that can indicate how the pieces were tied onto the head. \u0000Currently, only one way of wearing tailed coifs preva","PeriodicalId":245575,"journal":{"name":"Studia Vernacula","volume":"7 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-11-14","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"122231594","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.224-231
Aivar Ruukel
The skill of building dugout (alternatively: single-log) canoes (in Estonian: haabjas) is an important part of the intangible cultural heritage of Estonia’s Soomaa region and more generally of the Pärnu river basin. At the initiative of Estonian Dugout Canoe Society NGO (MTÜ Eesti Haabjaselts), the building of Soomaa dugout canoes has been included in the UNESCO Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, in addition to Estonian national register of intangible cultural heritage. Soomaa dugout canoe building represents a broader tradition of dugout canoes shared by many Finno-Ugric peoples. This initiative creates international collaboration opportunities between builders and popularizers of dugout canoes. Recognition of the dugout canoe tradition by UNESCO also supports cultural and nature turism in Soomaa National Park and helps to empower the local community of dugout canoe users, as well as pass the tradition of building dugout canoes to next generations. In the brief overview, Aivar Ruukel, the spokesperson of the Estonian Dugout Canoe Society describes the three stakeholder communities of dugout canoes: the local inhabitants; the woodcraftsmen who have the skill of making the dugout canoes, and the international community of ancient boat enthusiasts.
建造独木舟(或者:单木)的技能(爱沙尼亚语:haabjas)是爱沙尼亚Soomaa地区和Pärnu河流域非物质文化遗产的重要组成部分。在爱沙尼亚独木舟协会非政府组织(MTÜ Eesti Haabjaselts)的倡议下，除了爱沙尼亚国家非物质文化遗产名录外，Soomaa独木舟的建造还被列入联合国教科文组织人类非物质文化遗产代表名录。苏马的独木舟建筑代表了许多芬兰-乌戈尔民族共享的更广泛的独木舟传统。这一举措为独木舟的建造者和推广者之间创造了国际合作机会。教科文组织对独木舟传统的认可也支持了苏马国家公园的文化和自然旅游，并有助于增强当地独木舟使用者社区的权能，并将建造独木舟的传统传承给下一代。在简要概述中，爱沙尼亚独木舟协会发言人Aivar Ruukel描述了独木舟的三个利益相关者群体:当地居民;拥有制作独木舟技能的木匠，以及国际上的古船爱好者。
{"title":"Haabjakultuuri kolm kogukonda / Three stakeholder communities of dugout canoes","authors":"Aivar Ruukel","doi":"10.12697/sv.2022.14.224-231","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.12697/sv.2022.14.224-231","url":null,"abstract":"The skill of building dugout (alternatively: single-log) canoes (in Estonian: haabjas) is an important part of the intangible cultural heritage of Estonia’s Soomaa region and more generally of the Pärnu river basin. At the initiative of Estonian Dugout Canoe Society NGO (MTÜ Eesti Haabjaselts), the building of Soomaa dugout canoes has been included in the UNESCO Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, in addition to Estonian national register of intangible cultural heritage. Soomaa dugout canoe building represents a broader tradition of dugout canoes shared by many Finno-Ugric peoples. \u0000This initiative creates international collaboration opportunities between builders and popularizers of dugout canoes. Recognition of the dugout canoe tradition by UNESCO also supports cultural and nature turism in Soomaa National Park and helps to empower the local community of dugout canoe users, as well as pass the tradition of building dugout canoes to next generations. \u0000In the brief overview, Aivar Ruukel, the spokesperson of the Estonian Dugout Canoe Society describes the three stakeholder communities of dugout canoes: the local inhabitants; the woodcraftsmen who have the skill of making the dugout canoes, and the international community of ancient boat enthusiasts.","PeriodicalId":245575,"journal":{"name":"Studia Vernacula","volume":"28 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-11-14","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"123594901","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.172-187
Aivi Tamm
The article is an extension of the author’s MA thesis, “Cotton jackets in the tradition of wearing folk costumes in the mainland and islands of West Estonia at the end of the 19th century and the in the first half of the 20th century” (2022). The process of making a replica of a special umbne chintz jacket found in Kihnu was initiated during the author’s field work on the island. The owner of the jacket donated it to Kihnu Museum. As the original item was in a wretched condition, having been stuck between the logs of a wall as insulation material, the Kihnu Museum ordered a copy of it from the author of the present article. This process was supported by carrying out an inventory of the rest of the Kihnu chintz jackets, 14 items, from the same time period. The article addresses the problems that occurred over the course of making the patterns, choosing the material, and sewing the jacket. Alternatives are discussed and choices are explained. Typical Kihnu chintz jackets are simple in cut. Side and shoulder seams are shifted towards the back. Sleeve cuts consist of two details: sleeves are slightly bow-shaped and shortened in order to allow hassle-free performance of physical work. The lower-back edge of the jacket is elongated and arched, creating a tail (händ) that covers the back when the wearer bends over. As a rule, Kihnu chintz jackets have a buttoned front placket. The jacket under discussion is different as it has no buttoned opening in the front and the placket is located on a shoulder. No other similar jackets have been preserved, but there are oral recounts of making such items during the period of 1935–1945. Patterns were taken from the original jacket, but as its sleeves were heavily damaged, their patterns had to be re-created and modified according to the measures of the original jacket. In order to test out the feasibility of the pattern, two test jackets were sewn. As paisley-patterned fabric similar to the original was not available commercially, the author created a digital fabric pattern herself and ordered it to be printed on a suitable material. The original fabric was photographed and its pattern was digitally re-created. Cleaning and combining the elements of the pattern into a seamless surface was time-consuming work, but the final result was worth it. The experience in sewing the test jackets provided the author with the necessary confidence to cut up the valuable specially-produced fabric. The length of the machine stitches and the original black colour of the thread closely follow the original, as does the sequence of joining and finishing the details. A major difference from the original lies in the finishing of the hems and decorative collar folds, as the wide, white selvedge of the printed fabric could not be used in the same way Kihnu women would have used their fabrics when finishing the edges of the garment. The author also made the textile covered buttons herself. The replica of the jacket turned out well and
{"title":"Ühe sitsijaki lugu: koopia õmblemine umbsest Kihnu jakist / The story of a chintz jacket: making a copy of a Kihnu pullover (umbne) jacket","authors":"Aivi Tamm","doi":"10.12697/sv.2022.14.172-187","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.12697/sv.2022.14.172-187","url":null,"abstract":"The article is an extension of the author’s MA thesis, “Cotton jackets in the tradition of wearing folk costumes in the mainland and islands of West Estonia at the end of the 19th century and the in the first half of the 20th century” (2022). The process of making a replica of a special umbne chintz jacket found in Kihnu was initiated during the author’s field work on the island. The owner of the jacket donated it to Kihnu Museum. As the original item was in a wretched condition, having been stuck between the logs of a wall as insulation material, the Kihnu Museum ordered a copy of it from the author of the present article. This process was supported by carrying out an inventory of the rest of the Kihnu chintz jackets, 14 items, from the same time period. The article addresses the problems that occurred over the course of making the patterns, choosing the material, and sewing the jacket. Alternatives are discussed and choices are explained. \u0000Typical Kihnu chintz jackets are simple in cut. Side and shoulder seams are shifted towards the back. Sleeve cuts consist of two details: sleeves are slightly bow-shaped and shortened in order to allow hassle-free performance of physical work. The lower-back edge of the jacket is elongated and arched, creating a tail (händ) that covers the back when the wearer bends over. As a rule, Kihnu chintz jackets have a buttoned front placket. The jacket under discussion is different as it has no buttoned opening in the front and the placket is located on a shoulder. No other similar jackets have been preserved, but there are oral recounts of making such items during the period of 1935–1945. \u0000Patterns were taken from the original jacket, but as its sleeves were heavily damaged, their patterns had to be re-created and modified according to the measures of the original jacket. In order to test out the feasibility of the pattern, two test jackets were sewn. \u0000As paisley-patterned fabric similar to the original was not available commercially, the author created a digital fabric pattern herself and ordered it to be printed on a suitable material. The original fabric was photographed and its pattern was digitally re-created. Cleaning and combining the elements of the pattern into a seamless surface was time-consuming work, but the final result was worth it. \u0000The experience in sewing the test jackets provided the author with the necessary confidence to cut up the valuable specially-produced fabric. The length of the machine stitches and the original black colour of the thread closely follow the original, as does the sequence of joining and finishing the details. A major difference from the original lies in the finishing of the hems and decorative collar folds, as the wide, white selvedge of the printed fabric could not be used in the same way Kihnu women would have used their fabrics when finishing the edges of the garment. The author also made the textile covered buttons herself. \u0000The replica of the jacket turned out well and","PeriodicalId":245575,"journal":{"name":"Studia Vernacula","volume":"70 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-11-14","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"130929540","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.240-245
Urmas Lüüs
In his review of the Estonian translation of Richard Sennett’s The Craftsman, Urmas Lüüs, from the Estonian Art Academy, expresses his thoughts about the general position of ’material arts’ in the context of Estonian higher art education and the ways the book could help to cast new light on the forms of artistic self-expression that embrace making and skill besides conceptual ideas and design. In addition to materiality and technical skills, tacit knowledge is another very important concept addressed by Sennett. Lüüs provides some contemporary examples where tacit knowledge is studied. Some attempts to re-evoke tacit knowledge may not be successful, because they have been passed literally from hand to hand, but the knowledge has perished alongside the growth of industrial production, much like it happened in metal casting for sculptures. Lüüs points out that the book nicely pairs up with Jyrki Siukonen’s book Hammer and silence that was translated and published some years earlier and enjoyed very positive reception on behalf of art students. Both books show the way towards accepting the significance of (manual) skills in all types of creative activity.
爱沙尼亚艺术学院的Urmas l s在评论Richard Sennett的《the Craftsman》的爱沙尼亚语翻译时，表达了他对“物质艺术”在爱沙尼亚高等艺术教育背景下的总体地位的看法，以及这本书可以帮助人们重新认识艺术自我表达的形式，除了概念和设计之外，还包括制作和技巧。除了物质性和技术性技能之外，隐性知识是Sennett提出的另一个非常重要的概念。l s提供了一些当代研究隐性知识的例子。一些重新唤起隐性知识的尝试可能不会成功，因为它们已经从一个人传给另一个人，但知识已经随着工业生产的增长而消亡，就像雕塑的金属铸造一样。l s指出，这本书与Jyrki Siukonen几年前翻译出版的《锤子与沉默》(Hammer and silence)很好地搭配在一起，后者在艺术学生中受到了非常积极的欢迎。两本书都展示了在所有类型的创造性活动中接受(手工)技能的重要性的方法。
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Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.72-97
Bence Ament-Kovács
The present study deals with the traditional knitted hosiery and footwear of the German minority living along the river Danube (Danube Swabians) in Southern Hungary. The national costume worn by the ethnic Germans who had settled in East-Central Europe in the 18th century had changed significantly by the 20th century in ways that differed from the changes that had taken place in clothing in Germany itself. The garments worn by populations coming from the various German provinces were unified in a way analogous to linguistic levelling, and by the 19th century they corresponded to the multiethnic (Hungarian, Southern Slavic, German) dimensions of their local culture. As a result of the bourgeois transformation and the emergence of industrialized production following the emancipation of the serfs (in the mid- to late 1800s), men’s clothing lost its ethnic and folk style more quickly, while women’s clothing retained its distinctive peasant character right up until the Second World War. The pattern of a woman’s knitted slippers (tutyi/patshcker) gave away the settlement she belonged to (the women varied their local patterns), her denomination (e.g., the Lutherans and Calvinists left the heels and sides plain, while in the case of the Catholics these parts were patterned), her age (young girls wore brightly colored knitted slippers, married women wore slightly darker colors, elderly women wore dark colors, while elderly widows wore black), and possibly her financial position. Footwear changed more slowly than other items of folk costume, and German efforts towards self-sufficiency played a major role in this. The kapca, or foot wraps, which had formerly been worn externally, were gradually simplified into knitted woolen socks that were worn under civilian-style trousers, while women’s stockings had been shortened to ankle-high tutyis by the 19th century. Although these items, which were specific to ethnicity, denomination, and age, fell out of use after the Second World War, women actively maintained their knitting skills, regularly producing simple items from the available materials for use at home or on their household farms during the decades of Socialism. The phenomenon of visits home by relatives who had resettled in Germany, known as “nostalgia tourism”, as well as changing local community and state representation initiatives, led to the revival of tutyi making. As a result, individuals and communities are strongly attached to their own local patterns and the related antique objects, while there is growing demand among locals – as well as urban intellectuals – for knitting courses and workshops. The production of tutyis primarily for use in folk dance performances and representative events during the past decade, is currently undergoing transformation and is occasionally even marred by conflicts. Although the “specialized” production of these slippers, which remains active today, is carried out by a limited number of people, questions regardin
{"title":"Naiste patschker, meeste kapca. Lõuna-Ungari saksa vähemuse käsitsi kootud jalakatted / Women’s patschker and men’s kapca. The hand-knitted hosiery and footwear of the German minority in Southern Hungary","authors":"Bence Ament-Kovács","doi":"10.12697/sv.2022.14.72-97","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.12697/sv.2022.14.72-97","url":null,"abstract":"The present study deals with the traditional knitted hosiery and footwear of the German minority living along the river Danube (Danube Swabians) in Southern Hungary. \u0000The national costume worn by the ethnic Germans who had settled in East-Central Europe in the 18th century had changed significantly by the 20th century in ways that differed from the changes that had taken place in clothing in Germany itself. The garments worn by populations coming from the various German provinces were unified in a way analogous to linguistic levelling, and by the 19th century they corresponded to the multiethnic (Hungarian, Southern Slavic, German) dimensions of their local culture. As a result of the bourgeois transformation and the emergence of industrialized production following the emancipation of the serfs (in the mid- to late 1800s), men’s clothing lost its ethnic and folk style more quickly, while women’s clothing retained its distinctive peasant character right up until the Second World War. The pattern of a woman’s knitted slippers (tutyi/patshcker) gave away the settlement she belonged to (the women varied their local patterns), her denomination (e.g., the Lutherans and Calvinists left the heels and sides plain, while in the case of the Catholics these parts were patterned), her age (young girls wore brightly colored knitted slippers, married women wore slightly darker colors, elderly women wore dark colors, while elderly widows wore black), and possibly her financial position. \u0000Footwear changed more slowly than other items of folk costume, and German efforts towards self-sufficiency played a major role in this. The kapca, or foot wraps, which had formerly been worn externally, were gradually simplified into knitted woolen socks that were worn under civilian-style trousers, while women’s stockings had been shortened to ankle-high tutyis by the 19th century. Although these items, which were specific to ethnicity, denomination, and age, fell out of use after the Second World War, women actively maintained their knitting skills, regularly producing simple items from the available materials for use at home or on their household farms during the decades of Socialism. \u0000The phenomenon of visits home by relatives who had resettled in Germany, known as “nostalgia tourism”, as well as changing local community and state representation initiatives, led to the revival of tutyi making. As a result, individuals and communities are strongly attached to their own local patterns and the related antique objects, while there is growing demand among locals – as well as urban intellectuals – for knitting courses and workshops. The production of tutyis primarily for use in folk dance performances and representative events during the past decade, is currently undergoing transformation and is occasionally even marred by conflicts. Although the “specialized” production of these slippers, which remains active today, is carried out by a limited number of people, questions regardin","PeriodicalId":245575,"journal":{"name":"Studia Vernacula","volume":"28 1 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-11-14","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"133849750","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.232-239
Kristi Jõeste
In her review, Kristi Jõeste, an Estonian glove-knitting master, reflects on Sennett’s ideas in The Craftsman which have appealed to her the most: the persona of a craftsman, craftsmanship, tacit knowledge, skills and practice, motivation, routine tolerance, dialogue with materials, and the connection between hand and head. While ’craft’ in English is defined as a skillful process of making something, the Estonian definitions of ’käsitöö’ do not mention skills – the intellectual component of making – at all. In Estonian there are four definitions for ’käsitöö’ in dictionaries: 1) small-scale serial production made by hand with simple tools; 2) work made by hand, especially all sorts of crafting and needlework; 3) handmade object for practical or decorative purposes; 4) dull, poor-quality creation, especially in arts and literature. Thence, the slightly negative semantic background of ’käsitöö’ perhaps justifies bringing an old and rare Finnish-rooted ’taidur’ into a wider use rather than translating the title as ’käsitööline’, hoping that it could bring artists, designers and craftspeople closer to each other. Sennett argues that genuine craftsmen share the urge to do their work in the finest possible way, and it is a matter of personal satisfaction rather than a need to show off or get reward from others. Becoming a master in crafts requires routine engagement in order to acquire skill; he proposes that ca 10 000 hours of exercise is needed before a certain level of mastery is achieved and where self-reflection can produce novel results. In summary, the book is a well-argumented mixture of conceptions related to crafts. It offers insights into thinking about crafts and linking the ideas with different practices. In this respect, it is a philosophical writing asking questions about how the craftsman dwells in reality.
{"title":"Harjutamine teeb meistriks ehk käsitöölise muljeid Richard Sennetti raamatust „Taidur“ / Practicing makes the master. A craftsperson’s perspective on Richard Sennett’s “The Craftsman”","authors":"Kristi Jõeste","doi":"10.12697/sv.2022.14.232-239","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.12697/sv.2022.14.232-239","url":null,"abstract":"In her review, Kristi Jõeste, an Estonian glove-knitting master, reflects on Sennett’s ideas in The Craftsman which have appealed to her the most: the persona of a craftsman, craftsmanship, tacit knowledge, skills and practice, motivation, routine tolerance, dialogue with materials, and the connection between hand and head. While ’craft’ in English is defined as a skillful process of making something, the Estonian definitions of ’käsitöö’ do not mention skills – the intellectual component of making – at all. In Estonian there are four definitions for ’käsitöö’ in dictionaries: \u00001) small-scale serial production made by hand with simple tools; 2) work made by hand, especially all sorts of crafting and needlework; 3) handmade object for practical or decorative purposes; 4) dull, poor-quality creation, especially in arts and literature. \u0000Thence, the slightly negative semantic background of ’käsitöö’ perhaps justifies bringing an old and rare Finnish-rooted ’taidur’ into a wider use rather than translating the title as ’käsitööline’, hoping that it could bring artists, designers and craftspeople closer to each other. \u0000Sennett argues that genuine craftsmen share the urge to do their work in the finest possible way, and it is a matter of personal satisfaction rather than a need to show off or get reward from others. Becoming a master in crafts requires routine engagement in order to acquire skill; he proposes that ca 10 000 hours of exercise is needed before a certain level of mastery is achieved and where self-reflection can produce novel results. \u0000In summary, the book is a well-argumented mixture of conceptions related to crafts. It offers insights into thinking about crafts and linking the ideas with different practices. In this respect, it is a philosophical writing asking questions about how the craftsman dwells in reality.","PeriodicalId":245575,"journal":{"name":"Studia Vernacula","volume":"9 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-11-14","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"116655715","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-11-14DOI: 10.12697/sv.2022.14.98-125
Liisi Jääts, Mariliis Vaks, Thea Kull
Wooden chairs with rush seats have been a part of North- and West-European vernacular furniture since at least the 17th century. The same type of chairs with woven seats are represented among the Estonian vernacular chairs as well, but no research has been done on this topic so far. The term “rush seats” (kõrkjapõhjad) has been used in museum collections records as well as archival sources to denote the seats woven of plant material. The aim of the present article is to analyse what plant species have been used for making “rush seats”, how the plant material was prepared for weaving, what the work process was like, and which variations can be found in the patterns of surviving rush seats. Our source material includes the rush seat chairs in the Estonian National Museum (ENM) collections and archival sources from the ENM, as well as the Institute of the Estonian Language archive of the Estonian dialects and Finno-Ugric languages (EMSUKA). As the information concerning our research topic in the archival records was rather limited, a considerable part of our research is based on museum artefact analysis, including botanical analysis of the plant material, complemented by a practice-based approach. There are 28 rush seat chairs dating from the late 19th to early 20th centuries in the ENM collections. The vernacular plant names used in the archival sources (kõrkjas, luga) do not correspond to the current botanical nomenclature, therefore it remains unclear which plant species were used for weaving chair seats. In 15 chair seats inflorescence were discovered inside the woven plant material, analysis of which identified it as lakeshore bulrush (Schoenoplectus lacustris). In coastal regions, Schoenoplectus tabernaemontanii growing in salt water has also been used. In one case, the seat material is broadleaf cattail (Typha latifolia). According to some data in literature, the lake bulrushes were collected for weaving around St John’s Day, i.e. in late June before the inflorescence appeared. However, the inflorescence found inside the seats confirmthat the plants have been, at least partly, collected later, in July. For our own experiments, we have collected bulrushes in early July. In the ENM collections, 12 seats have been woven of one-ply bulrush string, and 16 seats are made of two-ply rush cord. The use of one- or two-ply cord may have induced different weaving techniques. Based on comparison with rush weaving traditions in other countries, we suggest that one-ply rush string was made by twisting the plan stems, gradually adding new ones, and at the same time weaving the string around the seat frame. The process of weaving the seat started from the outer corners of the seat frame and then by gradually working towards the centre. All the seats in ENM collection woven with one-ply rush string use this weaving method. Preparation of two-ply rush cord started with hand-twisting the plant stems into one-ply string. Likely, a rope-machine was used to t
{"title":"Eesti kõrkjapõhjaga toolide materjal ja valmistamisprotsess / Wooden chairs with rush seats: material and making process","authors":"Liisi Jääts, Mariliis Vaks, Thea Kull","doi":"10.12697/sv.2022.14.98-125","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.12697/sv.2022.14.98-125","url":null,"abstract":"Wooden chairs with rush seats have been a part of North- and West-European vernacular furniture since at least the 17th century. The same type of chairs with woven seats are represented among the Estonian vernacular chairs as well, but no research has been done on this topic so far. The term “rush seats” (kõrkjapõhjad) has been used in museum collections records as well as archival sources to denote the seats woven of plant material. The aim of the present article is to analyse what plant species have been used for making “rush seats”, how the plant material was prepared for weaving, what the work process was like, and which variations can be found in the patterns of surviving rush seats. \u0000Our source material includes the rush seat chairs in the Estonian National Museum (ENM) collections and archival sources from the ENM, as well as the Institute of the Estonian Language archive of the Estonian dialects and Finno-Ugric languages (EMSUKA). As the information concerning our research topic in the archival records was rather limited, a considerable part of our research is based on museum artefact analysis, including botanical analysis of the plant material, complemented by a practice-based approach. \u0000There are 28 rush seat chairs dating from the late 19th to early 20th centuries in the ENM collections. The vernacular plant names used in the archival sources (kõrkjas, luga) do not correspond to the current botanical nomenclature, therefore it remains unclear which plant species were used for weaving chair seats. In 15 chair seats inflorescence were discovered inside the woven plant material, analysis of which identified it as lakeshore bulrush (Schoenoplectus lacustris). In coastal regions, Schoenoplectus tabernaemontanii growing in salt water has also been used. In one case, the seat material is broadleaf cattail (Typha latifolia). \u0000According to some data in literature, the lake bulrushes were collected for weaving around St John’s Day, i.e. in late June before the inflorescence appeared. However, the inflorescence found inside the seats confirmthat the plants have been, at least partly, collected later, in July. For our own experiments, we have collected bulrushes in early July. \u0000In the ENM collections, 12 seats have been woven of one-ply bulrush string, and 16 seats are made of two-ply rush cord. The use of one- or two-ply cord may have induced different weaving techniques. Based on comparison with rush weaving traditions in other countries, we suggest that one-ply rush string was made by twisting the plan stems, gradually adding new ones, and at the same time weaving the string around the seat frame. The process of weaving the seat started from the outer corners of the seat frame and then by gradually working towards the centre. All the seats in ENM collection woven with one-ply rush string use this weaving method. \u0000Preparation of two-ply rush cord started with hand-twisting the plant stems into one-ply string. Likely, a rope-machine was used to t","PeriodicalId":245575,"journal":{"name":"Studia Vernacula","volume":"14 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2022-11-14","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"126114741","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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