The Silent Looms of the Håkansson Textile Studio

The textile studio is frozen in meticulous silence. On the central loom, a half-completed tapestry hangs taut, its thread counts left unfinished. Tools are carefully placed but untouched: shuttles rest on benches, heddles dangle slack, and bobbins lie scattered as if the weaver simply stepped away.

Craft Measured in Fibers

These implements belonged to Ingrid Håkansson, professional textile weaver (b. 1876, Gothenburg), trained in municipal workshops supplying decorative and functional fabrics to local households and merchants. Her meticulous Swedish notes record warp-to-weft ratios, tension measurements, and dye schedules. A folded card refers to her niece, Astrid Håkansson, “collect sampler Thursday,” revealing structured routines, precise technique, and a temperament of patient focus on color, weave, and pattern.

Tools and Tapestries

On the main bench, bobbins, heddles, and shuttle spools lie aligned. Partially finished textiles lean against tables, some with intricate patterns left incomplete. A ledger beneath folded sheets lists clients, materials, and intended thread counts. One tapestry shows careful weaving halted mid-row, suggesting a sudden interruption. Flecks of dye and loose fibers scatter across the floor, marking where work ceased abruptly.

When Precision Faltered

Later ledger entries reveal inconsistent thread counts and uneven warp tension. Several textiles are fraying or incomplete. A letter from a client lies unopened, indicating halted commissions. Gradually, failing eyesight and hand fatigue undermined Håkansson’s meticulous work, leaving patterns unfinished, fibers unaligned, and thread measurements abandoned mid-record.

In the Textile Studio’s final drawer, Håkansson’s last thread records end abruptly, unfinished patterns and tension notes suspended. A penciled note—“complete for Astrid”—stops mid-word. No explanation survives for her departure, nor why Astrid never retrieved the textiles.

The house remains abandoned, looms, fibers, and patterns frozen in quiet incompletion, every tapestry and thread awaiting hands that will never return.