Hi Patrick,
Before getting to my post, I
must express my frank disappointment at the many discrepancies in the
salon. One hates to be petty, but some of these matters cannot be allowed
to stand unchallenged. First and foremost is the cynical use of the term
“ducks” in the title. A quick perusal of the essay discloses there is
little “ducky” about it. Most egregious is the allegation of ducks in the
second image. They are
not ducks, a fact of which you must be
aware. They are raptors of some sort with (as you suggested) a decidedly
military bearing. I can only conclude that you contrived to insert the
term, “duck,” a word that is intrinsically humorous (much in the manner of
“banana”
), in order to alleviate the otherwise grim
nature of your chosen subject matter (ugly rugs).
I acknowledge
that there is an essence of duck in the Baluch of the first image, but
those birds are the extremely rare two-headed duck, with the second head
at the hind end, a fact you blithely ignored. One could base an entire
salon on this species alone, but it would have to be on a different
site.
There are several other troubling assertions or omissions in
the essay. For example, the non-Kazak four medallion runner is badly
mishandled. If not for the suspicious orange, I would be compelled once
again to mount a major assault on the bunker in order to acquire that
outstanding rug. It is an excellent example of the mysterious phenomenon
of the badly designed, carelessly woven rug that is somehow a smashing
success, and miles ahead of 85% of the perfunctory real Kazaks all around
us.
Granted, the 5 x 7 Bakhtiari is hideous, but where is the
claimed orange? On the other hand, the wagireh is neato, even with the
orange, which is mercifully lost in a sea of cheerfulness. As for the
so-called Baluch, anybody who calls that rug a Baluch is operating from
malice, and deserves all the ugly rugs they get.
I must admit, the
salon as a whole is saved by the "winged horse-woman” rug, which elevates
ugliness to a sublime level. On the other hand, I have no idea what that
perfectly good Kurd runner is doing in a salon like this.
Now to my
own rug, which I offer to demonstrate that with a little discipline, one
can resist the temptation to call one’s birds-in-rug, “ducks.”
It is evident
that the first bird is the
moa, judging from the scale and taking
into account the herding dog tending to the flock.
This is the first
inkling I’ve had of a pile weaving tradition in New
Zealand.
The next three must be dodos of some kind, judging
from the direction of the feet. The dodo, of course, is the bird that
doesn’t want to know where it’s going, it wants to know where it’s
been.
It would have been easy
cavalierly to have labeled the birds in my rug, “ducks;” but what about
scholarship?
I’d like also to make a contribution in the ugly rug
category, but so far, I haven’t been able to find one.
I'll keep looking.
Rich Larkin