Tactile Stories

Walking into Vevnad/Livnad at Kunstmuseet NordTrøndelag, I feel like I already have a good sense of what to expect. Textile arts have seen a steady resurgence in the art world since the early 2000s. I always enjoy seeing this medium take center stage in museums. These exhibitions often highlight the historical prejudices against women, their subsequent relationship to textile work, and the politically charged use of textiles by activists in the 1970s. Vevnad/Livnad is no different. The exhibition highlights textile works from Kunstmuseet Nordtrøndelag’s permanent collections and also features a solo exhibition of Therese Myran works.

Therese Myran’s works are in a room just off the main exhibition, so I decided to start there. Walking into the room, I am immediately met with a sea of color, texture, and detail so rich it’s easy to get lost looking at all the works. I feel like I’ve stepped into a different world. Somewhere adjacent to Alice in Wonderland, it’s beautifully bizarre and whimsical, but among all the wonder, a more ominous emotion emerges. I feel like I’m being watched, and I suddenly realize that almost every piece around me has multiple eyes embroidered into it. Each work stares back at me, and I get the impression that I’m no longer the one analyzing, but rather these works are analyzing me. This heightens the otherworldly feeling of Myran’s work, while simultaneously flipping the script on the expectations of the exhibition’s visitors. The works are a perfect mix of lush, eccentric beauty and unearthly eeriness. This room is truly a world of its own. 

Stepping out of Myran’s portion of the exhibition, there’s a sudden and drastic shift in the atmosphere. Myran’s works have such cohesiveness and life that when I take a sweeping glance at the rest of the exhibition, it initially feels clinical in comparison. As I make my way through the rest of the rooms, this feeling fades, and I find myself intrigued by the wide range of textures that surround me. Each work is its own sensory experience, from horsehair to delicate silks to thickly spun threads. I can almost feel the contrast between the rough and soft materials displayed throughout.

Jørgen Ørevik’s Paula and Marit Helen Akslen’s Kings Men of Norway 1 are examples of this. Paula consists of 28 cross-stitched pieces, most of which portray the different facial expressions of Ørevik’s aunt as she tells stories about what she has been up to. A set of headphones has been provided so one can listen to her while looking at the work. It’s a celebration of daily life and each one of the textiles is extremely detailed. Each tiny stitch is tightly pulled and makes a small bump on the surface of the work. If you ran your hand across the work, you would feel each dip and raised surface of the threads. I turn to see Akslen’s work and immediately notice the difference in texture. This work features a small red velvet pillow. On it rests a crown that is made from the collar of a man’s white button-up dress shirt. The velvet pillow is plush, and the crown is crisp and smooth. It’s a completely different tactile experience from Paula. These stark textural differences continue as I look at each work. 

As I walk into the final room, I am excited to see Gitte Dæhlin’s work Selskapsdame. This iconic work was featured in Norway’s first feminist exhibition, and it’s wonderful to see it in person. The work features a nude, life-size woman made of cloth. She has a soft and smooth appearance. She sits comfortably on a chair, but the cage that is tied to her foot implies a more ominous meaning. Placed on a pillow in the cage is a jar of baby food that is overflowing with, what looks like Seigmenn, the jelly candy shaped like little humans. The woman may appear content, but she is also bound and trapped.

Opposite of Selskapsdame is Tonje Høydahl Sørli’s They Say In Life We Make Our Own Luck!. This woven work is still on its loom and features the cartoon character Dolly Duck. While we normally associate Dolly Duck with joy, here she looks distraught and is lying on the ground. She is perpetually confined to this moment of distress, and with no other context given, the viewer is left to interpret why she is so upset. I’m intrigued by the placement of Selskapsdame and Dolly. They face each other almost as if they are having a conversation. Together they feel like a reflection on the societal bounds that women are expected to adhere to and the subsequent unrest that occurs when women are forced into these confines. 

As I leave the museum, I’m struck by how many different tactile experiences were present in the exhibition. It’s interesting to walk through an exhibition where texture is so central to each work, but not be able to feel any of these textures. The visual experience takes priority, and I wonder if any of the works would have really felt any different from what I would have expected. Regardless, it’s always a joy to see textile works get the attention and praise they deserve.

Vevnad/Livnad
7. februar–26. september 2026
Kunstmuseet NordTrøndelag