›Garden vista rugs

Rare and unusual Kurde rug - 19th century (Close up)

Why « Garden Vista » rugs ? Simply because of the inherited nostalgia of a paradise lost, or a garden of eden, which has survived concealed amid the threads of a humble woven « floor cloth », also interwoven with traditions, myths and memories.

WIf, to you, « a rug is nothing but a rug », the proliferation of woolen tufts, knotted together in view of covering a floor, a silent object doomed to be trodden and exposed to all sorts of outrages, you should then skip the following lines. They are not meant for you !

Naturally, the mere association of simple elements is not enough to achieve invention or creation. What is also required, as Hubert REEVES states, is a « space of mental freedom » - with all latitudes offered – as is the case when a game of chess begins - where chance (the fortuitous element) meeting necessity, fecundate each other and generate a work of art. There exists such a thing as a good, faithful copy, yet what is it if not the freezing of a creative process, a stand still imposed on the ever evolving, the « ever becoming ». A fine rug specimen requires creative interpretation, and creative interpretation alone is fertile; without it - and a copy, however faithful it may be - brings interpretation to sleep, makes the rug lifeless.

SPEED IS THE MOTTO OF OUR CIVILISATION, and its dire consequence for mankind, is solitude and monotony. Voices are raised above the silence, suggesting a way out of the deadlock. Centuries ago, men had time or rather took the time to achieve time consuming works of art of a wide diversity and great conceptual depth. The rug was one of those, a harmonious chaos of intermingled patterns, of small color patches, of designs puzzling the eye and requiring some mental work to unravel their mystery or enigma. Mandalas, tapestries, laces, Persian rugs belong to these age-old artefacts which were « food for the sou ».

Esfahan border (Close-up)

Knowledge itself - examination, analysis, expertise - is far from being sufficient. It makes us wise to the detriment of feelings, leaving no room to that precious perception without which arts - artefacts - are not appreciated for their « beauty added value ». Wise men in India say that over reasoning, unleashed intellectual powers, murder reality. When the iconographic, colored details show on the surface, it is the heart and not the reason which gas the privilege to be solicited to appreciate its value.

OUR SOCIETY IS MOBILE, UNSTABLE. In this general mobile framework, the Rug offers « anchorage », « landmarks ». A master of unity, it is a source of harmony. A « marker » on the nomadic tribe territories, it conveys a sense of « elsewhere », generates the most irrational dreams which leave one wondering and gorged with happiness when awaking.

And at the source of this enchantment, nothing but ancient interwoven threads of wool, several pure colors, but arranged with the transcending, timeless human magic which inspires, sets afire, soul and senses. « A thing of beauty is a joy for ever » (Keats).

Let us yield to these overwhelming, irresistible rug patterns or follow the spiritual path evolving from their geometrical lines. Rare are indeed the visual experiences, which lead so directly to one's proper singularity. For Thomas Hardy rug watching, should be paradigmatic of observation in general :

« …As in looking at a rug, by following one color a certain pattern is suggested, by following another color, another, so in life the seer should watch the pattern among general things which his idiosyncrasy moves him to observe, and describe that alone ».

Rare Kurde rug, Kurdistan (end of 19th century)

« The child is father of the man », writes Wordsworth. Never is the line so true as when, grownups, we are confronted with this pristine, visual, tactile experience. Let us respond with the child's spontaneity to the magic call of this source, let us drink its pure emotions, until inebriate, we see shapes and colors become the mirror of our own soul.

« ...At home », writes Christian Guillet (*), « my oriental rug offers me a transcending experience alien to those the Western world has to offer. One Thousand and One Nights would barely be enough for me to follow the dream like path designed on the floor and transfiguring my sphere. When a precious object is introduced in your home it does, unobserved, undetected, enter your irresistibly yield to its fascination ; its silent text will solicit and expand your spiritual apprehension of symbols. Without knowing it, you will become more sensible, hence more intelligent... »

The pleasure provided by a rug is, finally, indifferent to its origin whether from Turkey, Isfahan or Shiraz ! Do you wish to encapsulate its beauty behind a label naming a price ? The endeavor is absurd. An oriental rug eludes the prison of a figure, the prison of a word whether common or proper. Its destiny - its « destiny with you » - cannot be confined, frozen, summed up within a label. The rug we are interested in, of ancient sophistication, or admirable naivety, weathered, carries along with it, within warp and weft, the history of Man, of a people, of its traditions.

A rug remains, like its author, an enigma, a corpus of unnumerable questions.

You will consequently never « entirely possess » your rug. Upstream and downstream, such an artefact exists in its « becoming ». The prerequisite of its singular experience, as strong and elusive as life and love, is « your » encounter with the rug. An Oriental rug – like a voice or a fingerprint - is never twice the same. His creator, wither a village craftsman or a tribal nomad, is always « some- one else ». And when you start interpreting its message – such as that of the legendary « fling rug » the rug will soar above its material environment and acquire the freedom of a limitless fable world.

And your rug may conceal some other, more complex secrets, as will the numberless combinations of symbols tell you. You should then slacken your pace, as does « Alice in Wonderland » and let the mirror invite you through.

The flying Oriental Rug is also a « time machine ». And when its colored tufts welcome you on board, don’t hesitate for a split second : you’ll never regret the boundless fly out of time.