Crafting Himmeli: Connecting Heritage and Hope

An introduction to self-discovery and healing through plant study.

Culmination. 

This is the word rolling through my mind as I balance the long, slender, light as air, length of dried grass on my open right hand.

My left thumbnail splits the outer layer, sliding along the the central stalk, up towards the sun and frost bleached inflorescence. 

Lifting and tearing away the pale papery blade of last year, the stem clasped inside appears warmer, almost yellow gold.

It is imperfect. Grey spots where cold rainy weather invited mildew and spoilage. I don’t mind. I’m learning and this piece of grass is my teacher. 

I pull off the spent blade at the joint and set it to the side. Repeating the process on the same piece of grass three times, at three joints. 

The sections of stem (the culm) decrease in diameter towards the top.

Cut away the joints and now there are straws. Hollow lengths.

This is my first time making himmeli. A Finnish traditional holiday mobile made from the hollow stems of grain like rye or wheat. Symbolic of life-giving abundance and the spirit of the crop. Perhaps the shape represents the straight rows of emerging agriculture. (Erickson, 2021.)

himilli, himmel, himmeli,

the sky, heaven, heavenly,

I understand it’s meaning.

I line up the straws of similar diameter and with scissors, cut 12 pieces, each 2" long. A piece of thread a little longer than my arm. Lucky me, I found a 4" long sewing needle in my collection.

Thread three and tie a knot to make a triangle. 

As I pull the pieces together I reflect on what I know of my Finnish heritage. My grandfather emmigrated from Finland to Northern Ontario, Canada after his father died. Together with his mother, they crossed the Atlantic in 1928 and made their way to north western Ontario by train. 

He was five years old. 

Add two more straws and loop through a corner of the first triangle. Repeat until you see five triangles.

Upon their arrival, my great grandmother married another Finnish immigrant. A bachelor farmer-neighbor to her sister who was already living in Canada.

To accommodate this arrangement, the sister took my young grandfather-boy in. He lived with her and her husband and he began a new life laboring in the fields.

He would sometimes return to these difficult memories of toil and abandonment.

Add one more piece of straw and thread through the furthest straw of the first triangle, needle goes in by the knot.

In 2000, I traveled to Finland to visit distant family. Welcomed, I met more cousins and celebrated midsummer. They took me to visit the simple log house where our relatives once lived in the middle of a birch forest.

Being in that place, it is a feeling I hope I never forget.

Like magic it pulls into a half a diamond with two side triangles. 

My mother didn’t speak Finnish growing up but they did make some Finnish recipes. Her Irish Canadian mother prized literature, music, art and genius above all else. Excelling as intellectuals mattered most to her. She wanted the best for her children. 

Draw the two side triangles together to form the top of the diamond. 

Being Finnish in Canada in those days was controversial. This was on the heels of mass migration, colonial settlement and divisive perceptions of immigrants. By the time my grandfather was a parent, sentiments were changing but the damage was there. To him, to everyone. 

My grandfather worked hard all his life. He loved us deeply and he told us as often as he could.

I miss him. We all do. 

Tie off the thread. Make a loop to hang it. 

I complete an arrangement of one large, five small, and one diamond. As I make more of the himmeli, my hands pick up the rhythm. 

I allow my hands to time travel and imagine the world they have known before me; what knowledge do they contain? What they are capable of?

What buried, untapped material knowledge, tied to place and tradition can they offer? 

Like many children of children of immigrants, I have a blended heritage.

Like many in North America, I live far away from those places of origin.  On unceded land within an unfamiliar landscape.

What can we learn from plant materials, traditions and study? 

We all have pathways to heal ourselves so we can heal together.
We dance, paint, write, sing, speak, study, make meals, grow food and more. 

What is your path?

I return to plants, textiles, domestic art and the landscapes of my life.

Love, Oona


Notes On Material Knowledge

Because this project can work with many types of grass, I left out the species of grass I harvested. Stay tuned for a post behind the post.


Resources:

2019, March 12. Decolonization Is for Everyone | Nikki Sanchez | TEDxSFU. Re-accessed December 1, 2024. A powerful and succinct 13 minute talk to share with others. Bookmark to rewatch. “This history is not your fault, but it is absolutely your responsibility.” (Nikki Sanchez, 2019, 7:02)

2020, November 24. Lokal Presents Finnish Artist Eija Koski. Accessed December 1, 2024. Eija Koski, a celebrated himmelist conveys her reverence for the craft. A 5 min video offered by Lokal Helsinki.

2021, April 8. Erickson, Mary. Himmeli, A Finnish Immigrant Tradition presented by Nordic Center Duluth. Accessed December 1st, 2024. “When I learn these old crafts it gives me a connection to them…. It helps me give me an idea of who I am.” (Mary Erickson, 2021, 4:50…5:00)

2021, December 5. La, Emma Making a traditional Finnish Christmas ornament | Living alone in Helsinki. Accessed December 1, 2024. There are many examples on how to make this hanging, geometric form. This relaxing 10 minute one is the first I watched.

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