James Blanchard

Hi all,

Another issue with collectors is the penchant for purchasing rugs that are not only questionable in terms of quality as a collectible item, but also serve no useful decorative purpose. We all know how this happens, don't we? We are meandering through an antique store or flea market and naturally are drawn to anything that resembles a rug or textile. Most times, the search is futile and there is nothing but garish rugs on offer. However, occasionally you spot something that rises above the level of its mediocre competition, and if the price is right, you somehow convince yourself that it might not be a bad idea... at least until you introduce said item to anyone else that shares your living space. At that point, the puzzled question is something along the lines of "what exactly do you plan to do with that?" You know inside that you have sort of avoided asking that question of yourself, and you probably realize that there is no plausible way of displaying said "objet d'art". So it ends up in a closet or bunker awaiting the unlikely opportunity to pull it out to illustrate some point about rugs to a fellow aficionado, as if receiving visitors by rug aficionados is an actual occurrence at your home.

So, here is my signature piece in that category. I picked it up at an "antiques mall" on the Canadian prairies while other family members were browsing around for things you can actually use or display. It is a big rug that is not only truncated, but evidently also provided happy munching to a veritable plague of moths over the years. At the time I purchased it, I couldn't even really place it in terms of age or location. I just knew it was better than other things on sale, and the proprietor seemed motivated to sell it. I offered 50 bucks for it, and he said "sold", and my wife asked "what do you plan to do with that?", immunizing herself against any notion that I might have had about trying to display it. At least one of us has good decorative taste.

Anyway, though it serves no useful purpose, and is not collectible, somehow I like it. If I did want to make it "useful", I could very easily cut it up to make some rather dramatic pillows with soft and silky wool, but I can't bring myself to do it.

I don't suppose this happens to anybody else, does it?

James

Rich Larkin

Hi James,

Are you kidding? I'm offering sixty right now. And I'll pay shipping.

Keep it up!

Rich Larkin

P. S.: There's an answer to the question that trumps all: "I plan to restore it."

Rich Larkin

Hi James,

P. P. S.: That line, "What exactly do you plan to do with that?", is one of the insidious obstacles the novice ruggie must strive to overcome. We could have another salon on "The one that got away," and my leading example would be a victim to it. Tragically, I was the one asking the question of myself. The rug was an outstanding, very old Kurdish number in remarkable condition, but it was 7' x 21'. Thus, the question. By the time I'd recovered sanity, it was gone.

Of course, not every object of the subject interrogation is a long Kurdish rug woven before 1800; so, in the end, one has an attic full of fragments with no demonstrable purpose. But one must accept the consequences of one's policies.

James Blanchard

Hi Rich,

My father has a similar "one that got away story". Seems that there was a remarkable Central Asian carpet for sale in a castle in the Hindu Kush. They thought about the too large size, etc. but decided by the next day that they wanted to buy it... alas, too late.

James

P.S. Is that 60 in US or Canadian...

Rich Larkin

Hi James.

I can mint it to your taste right here in my garage.

Seriously, as they say, that fragment falls neatly under the comment I made in the other thread about rugs well past their salad days that, nevertheless, look good. It's a terrific old piece. Who cares what you might think to do with it.

Rich

Joel Greifinger

Hi James,

So true that it hurts. If I was forced to admit what percentage of my rug purchases fit squarely into the “what do you plan to do with that?’ category, this exercise could become very uncomfortable.

There is certainly no floor space left in my circumscribed urban abode and petitioning my wife to cover any further walls or railings could dangerously upset the current arrangement in which she already feels overwhelmed and surrounded. Thus, acceding to my desire for the newest discovery consigns the new arrival just about instantly into the life of storage you describe, particularly if the piece is bigger than a bagface. The chief question is transformed from, “how can I display this?’ to “how can I keep this from becoming even more moth-eaten than it already is?” And somehow, the great discovery from the unexpected location generally seems to be large.


With so many examples to choose from, I’ll just post the first one that came to mind when I read your intro to the thread. While I knew that I wanted this Qashqa’i kilim to come home with me, I managed to keep at bay any thought of what I might do with it once it got here. This photo records the only time it has seen the light of day.


Perhaps, like small children, we can develop an "imaginary ruggie friend" to invite over and share our stored finds with.





Joel Greifinger

Lloyd Kannenberg

Hello All,

To the question "What are you going to do with that?" in reference to some recently acquired rag (my wife's term), my standard answer is, "It's a study piece." This immediately establishes me as a scholar and tappetologist, not just a rug freak. I explain to her that it is an example of a "baklava" yastik, interesting to the cognoscenti for its offset knotting in the field (allowing very steep slanting lines) and the finely executed transition to regular "stacked" knotting in the borders, to say nothing of the somber palette, relieved by the white ground inner border stripe where that survives. Unfortunately this doesn't work on my wife. For her it's still a rag, and I'm still just a rug freak.

Lloyd Kannenberg