Criteria for Selecting Tribal Textiles |
Marla Mallett |
| Antique ethnographic Middle Eastern flatweaves are the focus of my gallery collection, but I do not usually handle the most pricey, esoteric materials. Instead, I hunt for excellent 19th century textile art that is affordable for collectors with limited budgets. Within these parameters, I am choosy: I want pieces with strong design, lustrous wools and beautiful colors. I want pieces that display individuality and experimentation -- in other words, products that reflect the artistic personalities of the weavers, even women working comfortably within tribal traditions. Some pieces may be fanciful or even downright crazy, others austere and elegant. |  |
| Rigid, mechanical-looking "factory" rugs and other weavings have short-lived appeal; in contrast, one can quickly grow fond of the irregularities that occur routinely in 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 rarely bother the weaver; many indeed are purposeful. I have heard women laughingly dismiss peculiar design irregularities in their work as "more interesting." I have seen mothers reluctant to correct their daughters' work. Weavers are unconcerned by erratic shifts in warp fringe color, unconcerned when their weavings are irregularly shaped. 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 have no individuality. Personal expression and subtle nuance are rare in cottage-industry or factory products from around the world. That the stacks of modern weavings in most import shops or carpet stores are hand-woven or hand-knotted is irrelevant. 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 "paint-by-number" rugs with authentic ethnographic art. An understanding of their differences is crucial for a beginning collector. | |
| 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. Usually, I select true ethnographic objects -- weavings made for use by the weaver's own family, and not specifically for sale. This is one reason for my concentration on nomadic flatweaves; until recently, these were never commercial products made for export. 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 that commercial products are sterile -- whether old or new, whether geometric or floral, whether from city or village. |
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| The imagery in old tribal weavings may have had important symbolic meanings for nomadic and village artisans at one time, but an understanding of such meanings has now been lost. In some instances, weavers have simply reveled in manipulating pure color and geometry. We can only speculate on these topics. Indeed there is lots of such speculation 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 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 spandrels should realize that injecting bits of fantasy into each sales pitch is a time-honored rug merchant's game. | |
| Old bags are of special
interest -- saddlebags, storage sacks and tent bags -- as their small scale encouraged an
individual and creative approach. Decorated bags made by Anatolian nomads are personal
favorites. Because 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! Collectors 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. |
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| 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 either 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 often leave village or tribal repairs untouched; they are part of a weaving's history. Instead of reweaving damaged areas on their kilims or bags, nomadic weavers have either just patched them up, 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. Modern restoration work, in contrast, should be invisible. |
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| 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. A few weavings shown on this web site were photographed before
their frayed areas were re-woven. This seems ideal, as the extent of any restoration is
then clearly understood. My reweaves are usually not evident to most people, and often I
can't find them myself. Sometimes it is necessary to remove and re-do poor
"repairs" done in the Middle East with improper or poorly matched materials. 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? Again, this is an individual matter, but for me the decision is easy: I opt for
the earlier and more creative ethnographic piece, although it has suffered. 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. |
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| Most of us hunt for old
weavings that feature vegetable-dye colors -- but with limited success in pieces less than
100 or 120 years old. Although experience helps us to recognize natural-dye palettes, the
origin of many colors cannot be guaranteed without expensive dye tests. Thus rugs are
frequently represented as "vegetable-dyed" by promoters with no concrete
knowledge of their origins. We sometimes see rugs with the most garish chemical
"packet dyes" misrepresented. On the other hand, pieces from remote areas may display natural dye combinations that are unfamiliar, since rug literature has focused attention elsewhere. 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. 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 are used unmixed, straight from the package, a brash, garish product is almost guaranteed. Because nearly all vegetable colors are less intense, harmonious results are simply more predictable with their use. On lustrous, long staple wools, however, any properly processed dye colors can be beautiful, subtle, and become more lovely as they mellow a bit with age. Conversely, no dyes can produce wonderful results on poor quality wool. The use of superb materials is even more crucial in flat-woven textile art than in pile carpets. |
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| Vegetable-dyed pieces prevail in our gallery collection. Occasionally, though, I have purchased late 19th or early 20th century weavings, realizing that they included 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, unethical in my opinion, and a disservice to the weaver. In selecting functional pieces for use on the floor, I find it quite reasonable to use sturdy, synthetic-dyed old tribal pieces that are genuine ethnographic products, if their palettes and designs are pleasing. Such weavings can be much more interesting than contemporary commercial products that are made with natural dyes, but feature repetitive, lifeless and uninspired designing. | |
| The challenge of
presenting old textiles on a web site in a reasonable manner is daunting. What you see is
often NOT what you get when JPEG images are used. With these low resolution files
necessary for the internet, good textiles may look smeary, splotchy or worse.
Close-ups are usually more accurate than full-view photos. One friend
advised: Just make sure that your photos don't look better than the rugs! I
have tried to take this to heart, and especially resist the temptation to use
images
in which colors are overly intense. Still, no matter how accurate the photos, monitors and monitor
settings differ. Flat-screen monitors, in particular, come from the factory
with brightness and contrast settings that are extreme and
artificial. But the luminosity of a computer screen can give any
piece an unreal aura. When
the textiles are irregular in shape (nearly always with tribal weavings!), I have
tried to make sure that is evident. One
word of caution: 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. |
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