Oriental rugs have long been appreciated on the floors and tables of
the worlds well to do citizens. Large court carpets for centuries adorned
the palaces and dwellings of monarchs. Most Central Asian societies, of
the last one thousand years we have knowledge of, seem to have produced
robust weaving Westerners consumed and enjoyed on the floors of their
dwellings.
Oriental rugs, until the end of the 19th century, were just
about universally consumed on the floors of our forefather's homes. As
hard as it is to believe, oriental rugs were never considered an art form
by significant numbers of people until the second half of the 20th
century. I believe that in the simple act of cleaning and hanging an
Oriental rug for consumption by the eyes only at an appropriate height
elevates the weaving psychologically into the realm of art.
The
transition of Oriental weavings from the mundane world of the floor to the
realm of art on the walls of fine homes has not been a smooth one. Serious
questions have arisen about the authenticity of a large number of
important Oriental rugs in the world's collections. In my own C-14 studies
with N. Kajitani we discovered that a large carpet cataloged as
"Classical" by McMullen was in actuality a 17th century reproduction. It
was in fact at least 150 years younger than previously thought. It is
situations like this that I categorize as having a problem with
authenticity. This problem has been exponentially compounded by the advice
of "rug dealers", who historically have had essentially no real
information about the origins of rugs, to "collectors" who trusted naively
in their advice. The psychological effect of this "betrayal" was so
powerful in France that the term "rug dealer" is even today a pejorative
slang term meaning someone is a sneaky crook.
Serious scholarship
connecting all types of representational art, including 19th century
travel logs, may one day combine with an advanced technology to accurately
position the pieces in the worlds collections in time and perhaps in
space, the when and where of it all.
This sums up my feelings about
the general state of rug scholarship. Most if not all of what I have just
said does not apply to the weavings of the great Turkoman tribes. Made and
consumed within the context of a totally isolated and alien society the
appearance of historical Turkoman weavings in the civilized world always
made a significant impact. The Turkomen were hired as mercenaries by the
Egyptians in the dark ages and immediately impacted Mamaluk art and even
migrated to Spain where their regal designs were translated by the Moors
into their carpets.
Turkoman design has many sources of inspiration,
including the designs of significant others like the Persians, but in the
main reflects the pure and simple essence of flying. The vastness and
majesty of the environment's terrain oppress a man on foot in the
hinterlands of Central Asia. Most villagers working the land never in
their life felt the "wind in their face" experienced by each and every
horse-mounted Turkoman. In all truth this feeling for the pressure of an
unseen atmosphere is such a spiritual one and is so desirable that people
today still ride motorcycles without helmets in Americas' vast western
states. I believe that the Turkoman riding fast across the dunes felt as
if he were a great eagle swooping out of the sky. I believe that this
feeling of freedom and power was the driving force behind the popularity
of archetypal nomadism. As free as a bird, does that ring a bell for you?
Their older main carpets seem to employ a certain set of visual
distortions whose dispassionate appreciation often results in the illusion
of birds flying against a blood red sky. There is ample evidence to
suggest that in secret ceremonies ritual dances were preformed on special
carpets woven by shaman where entheogens were consumed, especially aminita
muscarina fungii, to cross over into the mind of the great eagle in the
sky. Elmby sold an 18th century Kepsie gull carpet a few years back to a
New York collector that had the figure eight of this dance worn into its
surface. Some evidence in support of this view surfaced a few years ago
when a photograph of the rug was found taken in the early 1930's. It was
in exactly the same condition then as when it was acquired. The start
position of the dance was also clearly indicated by two prominent border
elements dyed to closely resemble the red of glowing embers. I have stood
on those embers and done the dance on the rug myself and I can confidently
say the pattern worn in the surface matches exactly the natural twisting
and turning of the figure eight defined there. This is a fine example of
an inductive process. Most Oriental rug studies contain a strong element
of the inductive process where one moves from some generalized observation
to a specific position. This isn't considered good science, for
intra-observer reproducibility of the process is often poor. This should
not be used as a reason not to theorize or use the inductive process. In
the future we may know more than we do now. Some of our theories will turn
out to be absolutely correct. We should all aspire to elevate the
understanding of our fellow man. Unfortunately until more is know, we must
each individually decide what we will accept and what we will reject. Jim
Allen |