Nordic knitting patterns are not your basic cable

Reading on the bus is one thing, and knitting in transit is another. This writer knows the frustration of not having finished a row when your stop is called — crisis! But for skilled knitters like Swedish designer and archaeology enthusiast Elsebeth Lavold, a resident of suburban Stockholm whose work is now on display at the Nordic Heritage Museum, "I'll just walk and knit on my way to the subway."

The museum's Charlotte Lehmann, who organizes an annual knitting conference (this year's falls on the weekend of March 13), invited Lavold to show her work after meeting her at the 2007 conference. "She calls herself a 'lazy knitter,' " says Lehmann, "but she's what we call a knitting rock star."

Lavold's "Knitting Along the Viking Trail" exhibition represents a milestone in the knitting world. By acknowledging the past and showing how far knitting innovations have come, it complements an existing museum installment of items such as Icelandic animal-hide slippers and delicate lace shawls.

Patterns of early times

For 15 years, Lavold has analyzed artifacts like cross and gravestone fragments, swords, jewelry and rune stones, and adapted their patterns for use in knitwear innovations that go beyond traditional cabling. Some of the inspirations are close by in her Stockholm suburb, Spånga, where she says Viking-era "leftovers" are scattered throughout the landscape.

The 60-odd pieces in "Viking Trail" were designed by Lavold and her husband, Anders Rydell, and created by a team of knitters. They're grouped according to their primary pattern element, which is illustrated or shown on replicas of artifacts. It's fascinating stuff — a simple ring element can be explained through ancient Norse myth as a serpent encircling the world. Twist it once and it's the symbol for eternity. Keep twisting and it's a complex cable pattern: a thousand years of history in your most comfortable sweater.

And this history is hardly dull. Lavold's works are richly hued. "I tend to favor natural colors, rich fall and jewel colors, as well as grayed pastels reflecting the colors of rocks and lichens," she says.

A turquoise sweater bears the runic inscription "Kysmik," Old Norse for "kiss me." And perhaps the most impressive garment in the exhibit is a copy of one of Rydell's own sweaters, a design called "Brage" featuring a prominent cabled dragon. Lavold explains that Brage is the Norse god of mead and poetry; Rydell, a songwriter and schnapps maker, was born in the year of the dragon.

"A knitting addict"

Is it more satisfying to create a complicated piece like "Brage," rather than the simple projects of a neighborhood stitch-and-bitch? "I'm a knitting addict and I need all the levels of knitting," Lavold says.

"I need the challenge of the complex pieces — 'Is it possible to do this?' 'How do I shape this piece to obtain that effect?' — but at the same time, I really need the meditative effect from the kind of knitting where I don't need to concentrate, where my hands do the work and my mind is free to roam."

Most of the patterns in "Viking Trail" are available in books at the museum gift shop, should you want to try your hands at them. Proceeds from one pattern sold separately, "Löding," benefits children's programming at the museum.

Taking in the scope of her work, it's hard to imagine Lavold as lazy, but it's a term she gamely explains.

"I like to get a lot of effect for little work, I tend to look for technical shortcuts — cheating intelligently — and anyway, when you do what you love, it doesn't feel like work."