Criteria for Selecting Tribal Textiles
Middle Eastern flatweaves have been my passion for many, many years, and
they are the focus of my website gallery collection. I hunt
mainly for 19th century
textile art--the best I can find--including pieces for collectors with limited budgets. Within these parameters, I am
want pieces with strong design, lustrous wools, beautiful clear colors and refined
weaves. I want textile art that displays individuality and experimentation.
In other words, I want products that reflect the artistic personalities of
the tribal weavers--albeit women working comfortably within their groups'
traditions. Some pieces may be fanciful or even downright crazy, others austere and
Unfortunately, there has been a serious degeneration of this wonderful art form over the past 80 to 100 years, and the stacks of coarse, sterile, garish kilims readily available in most markets are but poorly woven copy work displaying little sensitivity or creativity. We must now search more and more diligently to find good early examples. The vast majority of Middle Eastern kilim dealers handle only 20th century goods, often without a single piece more than 60 or 70 years old in their inventories.
Early dates are not enough, however, to insure aesthetic merit. Dull, dingy antique pieces need not automatically command our respect. A boring, poorly designed weaving rarely improves with age.
|Rigid, mechanical-looking "factory" or workshop rugs and other commercial weavings have short-lived appeal; in contrast we can quickly grow fond of the irregularities that occur routinely in old ethnographic village and nomad textile art. Abrupt changes in color, motif or proportion reflect a carefree, lively attitude toward the work. Such anomalies are not considered mistakes, nor are they signs of inept work. Unmatched pattern repeats have rarely bothered the traditional weaver; many indeed were purposeful. I have heard Turkish nomad women laughingly dismiss peculiar design irregularities in their own work as "more interesting." I have seen mothers reluctant to correct their daughters' work. Country weavers are rarely concerned by erratic shifts in warp fringe color, rarely concerned when their weavings or motifs are irregularly shaped--a frequent occurrence if nomads' looms are moved about. We too must realize that the essential qualities in this folk art are freshness, vitality, pleasing color, superb materials and excellent design.|
|In contrast, handmade commercial carpets and kilims have no individuality. Personal expression and subtle nuance are rare in cottage-industry or "workshop" products from around the world. It is irrelevant that the stacks of modern weavings in most import shops or carpet stores are hand-woven or hand-knotted. They are assembly-line products, little different in concept from wallpaper. No collector would want paintings mass-produced to an export merchant's specifications. Nor should anyone confuse monotonous mass-produced, commercial "paint-by-number" rugs with authentic ethnographic art. It is essential for a beginning collector to understand their differences.|
|Since I have a weaving
background, excellent structural design and fine craftsmanship are important criteria for
me, along with dynamic imagery. Because designing in slit-tapestry, brocading and the
warp-patterned weaves is so challenging, I find them the most fascinating flatweaves.
Weft-substitution and soumak textiles also provide endless delight.
Unfortunately, with all of these, there has been a severe deterioration of
standards over the past 80 to 100 years, and so for excellent examples, we normally
are forced to look for older pieces.
Most 19th century nomadic and village weavers spent laborious hours combing their wools to produce the finest, most lustrous hand-spun yarns. More recent weavers found it much easier to have their wools commercially carded. Such wools, even though hand-spun, were more dull, lusterless and decidedly inferior for kilims and bags. Along with this change in processing came alterations in the fine weave balances so carefully developed by each community over the years as warp and weft elements were fine-tuned to interact effectively. Unfortunately, photos don't capture the subtle differences in refinement between older weavings and most 20th century products, but once seen side by side, nearly everyone can appreciate the quality differences. Natural and synthetic-dye color comparisons intensify the differences. The contrast can be as dramatic as a couturier gown alongside a Wal-Mart special.
Usually I hunt for true ethnographic objects--weavings or other textiles made for the weaver's own family, and not specifically for sale. This is one reason for my concentration on nomadic flatweaves; unlike pile carpets, these were not commercial products made for export until recently. Years of personal studio experience have taught me that although an artisan takes pride in his or her work, attitudes toward it vary considerably, depending upon what is to be done with the completed product. Marketplace demands affect most creative work adversely, and we should not be surprised to find commercial products sterile--whether old or new, whether geometric or floral, whether from city or village.
|The imagery in old
tribal weavings may have had important symbolic meanings for nomad and
village artisans at one time, but most knowledge of such symbolism has
now been lost. It's merely been convenient to keep using
"traditional" motifs. In some instances, weavers
have simply reveled in manipulating pure color and geometry. Occasionally
village women have pointed out to me small
good-luck charms that they have incorporated in their work. But normally, we can only speculate on
these topics. Indeed, such speculation is rampant in rug literature. We can only know
for sure that flatweave structures and techniques have played important roles in shaping
designs in tribal textiles. Since we are on such shaky ground when interpreting ideational
content in old tribal textile art, such matters should play little role in our selections.
Anyone who decides to buy a rug because the seller imagines mythical creatures in its
borders should realize that injecting bits of fantasy into each sales pitch is a
time-honored rug merchant's game.
The "mihrab" in prayer kilims is one exception to the matter of forgotten symbolism. The prayer arch format normally represents the mihrab which in each mosque quibla wall indicates the direction of Mecca. Turkish villagers who wove kilims often hung such pieces in their small houses to show the direction of Mecca for women and girls of the family who said their prayers at home, while the men attended the local mosque.
|Old bags are of special
interest to me--saddlebags, storage sacks and tent bags--as their small scale encouraged
individual experimentation and creativity.. Decorated
çuval made by Anatolian nomads are my personal
favorites. Because until recently they have received little coverage in the literature, I have been able
to acquire excellent examples: both complete bags and bag faces. I have even found old
traditional textiles put to startling new uses!
should keep in mind that the textiles currently in vogue are rarely the best bargains.
Prices inevitably rise after any group of rugs or weavings has been researched and
published widely. Then fashions change as the next group is promoted. Incidentally, fine
ethnographic rugs and other textiles are never priced by the square foot. Small pieces can
be more expensive than large rugs. As with any art, value is determined individually.
|We of course pay
premium prices for antique rugs and textiles in excellent condition. A nineteenth century
carpet or kilim in superb condition commands much, much more than a worn, stained, badly
repaired or badly faded piece. But nearly all antique textiles and rugs have sustained
some damage, and consequently, some restoration. Most old pieces seem to have
holes, tears, fraying or wear, if they have not already been "repaired." Iron
oxides in brown dyes tend to corrode the wools with time, so brown yarns wear first, and
eventually disappear. This is a natural part of a textile's aging. A few other colors
corrode also -- particularly magentas and pale gray-greens.
Opinions differ as to whether antique tribal pieces should be restored or merely conserved. Extremely early pieces should rarely be restored, but with weavings of moderate age, a case-by-case judgment seems wise. It may be sensible to reweave a distracting hole in the center of a design, but leave frayed edges alone. I sometimes leave village or tribal repairs untouched; they are an interesting part of a weaving's history. Instead of reweaving damaged areas on their kilims or bags, nomadic weavers have either just patched them, or woven new articles as needed. In the photo, you see a tribal repair: a hole in a storage sack merely crocheted shut. It was an easy and practical way of prolonging the item's useful life. Professional modern restoration work, in contrast, should be very difficult to detect.
|If we are to use an old kilim
or pile rug on the floor, frayed areas need to be rewoven or at least stabilized to
prevent further damage. Fragments or very early pieces can simply be mounted, or
stabilized and hung. (See my notes on Mounting and Hanging Textiles.)
Since my gallery clients have differing views on restoration, I restore some pieces, but
leave others untouched.
So what should a collector do when faced with choosing between an
unexciting, recent piece in perfect condition, and an interesting but damaged older
textile? This is an individual matter, but I feel that the quality of
the artistic expression is paramount. Many folks are now collecting fragments of early
weavings, and mounting them for display. Meanwhile, the quality of available
restoration work is improving, so the options are multiplying.
|Most collectors hunt
for old weavings that feature clear, strong vegetable-dye colors, meaning that we
must usually focus on pieces more than 100 or 120 years old. The first
synthetic dyes became widely available in the 1880s, and at first were
used along with traditional natural-dye colors. In some isolated
areas, natural dye usage was retained for longer periods. I've found
relatively late Anatolian çuval with all natural dyes, for example. Although
experience helps us to recognize natural-dye palettes, the
origin of many colors cannot be guaranteed without expensive dye tests. Thus rugs are
far too often represented as "vegetable-dyed" by promoters with no concrete
knowledge of their origins. We sometimes see rugs with the most garish chemical
On the other hand, pieces from remote areas may display natural dye combinations that are unfamiliar. Dye expert Harald Böhmer, in Rugs of the Peasants and Nomads of Anatolia, points out the vastly different color ranges in pieces from the three major areas of Turkey, for example. We are most familiar with Western and Central Anatolian pieces, and so find the natural dye color usage in some Kurdish work from the East quite startling. These weavers dyed natural tan, brown or gray wool yarns as well as white wool, extending their palettes in subtle ways.
The identification of dyes is NOT an easy matter. Rather strong coral reds have been produced in Central Turkey with natural madder and decreased purpurin. Yet we tend to describe similar hues as "hot" in most Caucasian, Persian and Turkmen rugs and correctly identify those as synthetic. While garish oranges are most often synthetic, oranges were a part of natural dye palettes in some parts of Turkey, and the natural "apricot" hues in older Anatolian kilims are truly lovely. Subtle, natural "aubergine" dyes appear primarily in early pieces, while the brighter purples in later pieces tend to be synthetic. The earliest synthetics, "fuchsine" and "mauvine," were purple/magenta hues originally that faded with time to pale gray. Since their usage rarely extended into the 20th century, their presence in a textile can be a useful indicator of age. Brilliant pinks are frequently synthetic, but pale madder reds and pale cochineal reds--or their combination-- can be confused with these.
Abrash, those subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) changes within single-color areas on rugs and kilims, can be present in either natural- or synthetic-dyed pieces. This has most often occurred when dye pots have been so crammed with yarn that the dyes could not circulate freely and penetrate evenly. The flickering color variation that results usually enriches a rug's palette and so can be a conscious choice. This feature has even been imitated by manufacturers of machine-made carpets. Abrupt color changes suggest that the yarns were dyed in separate batches.
Usually when problems with synthetic dyes have occurred,
they have resulted from incorrect, unskilled or insensitive use. Colors that have faded or
run have usually not been fixed properly by simmering long enough in the dye pots. When
such dyes were used unmixed, straight from the package, a brash, garish product
guaranteed. Unfortunately, that's what we see in a majority of 20th century
kilims. Because nearly all vegetable colors are less intense, harmonious results
simply more predictable with their use.
|Vegetable-dyed pieces prevail
throughout our gallery collection. Occasionally, though, I have purchased late 19th or early 20th
century weavings, realizing that they included one or two chemical dyes, because rarity, ethnographic
interest, or esthetic merit justified the choices. After all, exceptional art can be made
with any materials, and it is foolish to dismiss beautiful pieces arbitrarily. Virtually
all surviving Moroccan hambels are 20th century weavings, and few have all
natural colors. One cannot maintain a rigid position on dye questions and collect a range
of fascinating Berber weavings. The same is true with Tibetan rugs.
I can never, however, justify buying bleached or purposely sun-faded kilims. Those practices are destructive and a disservice to the weaver. In selecting functional pieces for use on the floor, especially in high traffic areas, I find it reasonable (as well as economical) to use sturdy, synthetic-dyed old tribal pieces that are genuine ethnographic products, if their palettes and designs are pleasing. Such weavings can be far more interesting than contemporary commercial "revival" products that are made with natural dyes, but feature repetitive, lifeless and uninspired designing. Among old weavings, natural-dye pieces are almost always more expensive--typically twice or three times the cost of pieces that include a synthetic dye or two.
The "weave balance" and structures of tribal kilims differs considerably from one to another, meaning that a case-by-case judgment is required when we consider how to use them in our homes. Some of these pieces are tough and sturdy enough to handle a lot of traffic; others are delicate and absolutely must be hung or displayed in some other way. The majority are somewhere between these extremes. I have tried in my on-line descriptions to give advice regarding the appropriate use for unusual pieces.
challenge of presenting old textiles on a web site in a reasonable manner is
daunting. Although JPEG photo files can now represent the pieces
professionally calibrated systems, monitors and monitor
settings differ. Some new LCD monitors come from the factory
with brightness and contrast settings that are extreme and
artificial. On the other hand, colors may be dull on older monitors.
The luminosity of a computer screen can give any
piece an unreal aura. But the greatest difficulty is conveying the
impact of bold patterning on large kilims through small photos.
One should remember that the best pieces are not necessarily those with the most appeal on the
screen. The scale of a piece, its details, materials, tactile qualities and physical
presence are important elements in the enjoyment of any textile.