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This long awaited Richard E. Wright and John T. Wertime opus boasts exquisite color and a text that will keep many Caucasian rug enthusiasts enthralled for some time to come. By my own first criterion for judging a new rug book -- whether I have learned something I had not known before -- I must say there is much fresh information and many references that I appreciate now having at my disposal, and I suspect that many other readers will feel the same gratitude. Indeed, there is so much about the quality of the book's research and writing that is beyond reproach that one feels slightly uneasy in raising several criticisms. Perhaps the most instructive way to go about this task is artificially to divide the book into two parts: the one dealing with Caucasian flatweaves and that dealing with pile carpets.

Although the authors describe both flatweaves and pileweaves by geographical region, considering both together, the book clearly focuses its attention upon the former. Having arisen from an exhibit of flatweaves, "From Kuba to Kars," at the Textile Museum in 1994, it gives the impression that the material on pile rugs was added more as an afterthought. Yet the coverage of flatweaves is so well reasoned and convincing that it is well worth having the book for this alone. For an understanding of just what the authors have accomplished, one might use Plates 446 to 494 in Ian Bennett's Caucasian Rugs 1 as a reference point. Here one may find a fine selection of flatwoven types that have long been recognized in the oriental rug field, but whose origins, weavers, and even labels have remained unknown or controversial. Many of these are specifically and convincingly identified by Wright and Wertime, while Bennett -- drawing on the past literature -- can do little more than find comparison pieces, which may or may not help with localization. The Wright and Wertime Plate X, for example, is clearly of the same type as Bennett's Fig. 446, but while Bennett is able to localize it to the Shirvan area, the former writers are able specifically and plausibly to the identify as its source the Padar villages of the Shemakha District (without, however, placing them on any map).

The large kelims showing stylized palmettes on a red field (Wright and Wertime Plate IX and Bennett Figs. 452 and 453) are also specifically localized to the same villages, while Bennett, after considering both the Shirvan and Kuba districts, opts for an opinion that this design was woven "over a "wide area of the Caucasus and northwest Persia."2 The large 2-piece types with repeated S-shaped stylized dragons (usually called sile in the west and clearly documented by Wertime and Wright more properly as bearing a verneh label) are another case in which Wright and Wertime produce convincing documentation. A number of these pieces from the Jebrail District of the Karabagh were exhibited in the 1889 Tiflis exhibition. Similarly the type of 2-part flatweave with a design in square compartments with variously colored lozenges and other motifs -- properly called zili, but usually mislabeled as verneh in the West -- is convincingly attributed to the Shusha District.

The group of covers Bennett described as "Embroidered and Slit-tapestry Rugs" (his figures 450-2) and tentatively localized to "Azerbaijan, in the Persian/Caucasian border area,"3 are convincingly demonstrated by Wright and Wertime to be Kurdish work from the Erivan Province. The large kelims in which polygonal figures are arranged in vertical or diagonal stripes -- the so-called "banded kelims" that are usually attributed to the Shirvan area -- are shown by Wright and Wertime to have a much more complex lineage, with some originating from the Karabagh and Kazak Districts.

My intention in citing these examples -- and there are others -- is not to disparage Bennett, whom I am using only because his presentation was previously the most comprehensive. The point is that Wright and Wertime have done so much better than what we had before. Truly this new work represents enormous strides forward in the understanding of Caucasian flatweaves.

The major area of difference between Bennett's coverage and that of Wright and Wertime is the former's inclusion of 12 plates of soumaks, while the latter include only 3, one of which is from a 1913 photograph. They explain this with the implication that soumaks did not remain true to their tradition, that they were in part made for export, and some imitated pile rugs (p. 159). The degree to which this diminishes their status as works of art is, of course, a matter of opinion, and that issue arises again in discussions of pile weaves, where, I believe, it motivates some major distortions.

Perhaps what is wrong with the pile section is summarized by the authors' flat statement, "The most noteworthy component of Caucasian weaving is its flat-woven textiles" (p. 159). This is neither a fact nor a majority

opinion, and I believe it is not one shared by most potential readers of a book on Caucasian rugs. The other part of the problem may well be the assumption that there is something inherently inferior about a rug woven with commercial intent from a cartoon prepared by a professional designer. By this reasoning, a "star" or "pinwheel" Kazak woven between 1910 and 1930 -- as many of them almost certainly were -- would of necessity be less worthy of respect or appreciation.

This, in my opinion, misses the point about these rugs. From my perspective, we dismiss many late, commercial rugs not because they lack age and were made to be sold, but because they are dull, lifeless, repetitive, and lacking in spirit. This does not mean that all rugs of the commercial period share these qualities or that there were no rugs from these decades that were vibrant expressions of an indigenous art. If one is truly responding to the mysterious combination of design and color that differentiates a wonderful rug from a stiff, boring rug, then the rug's antecedents -- in terms of date or intent of the weaver -- is of no more than academic importance.

But the authors' seem to minimize, at times subtly, the whole concept of the Caucasian rug as potentially a thing of great beauty. They depict a splendid dragon rug, but they attribute the group to Tabriz 4 and state that, "the 'classical' carpets are not firmly a part of the textile canon of Caucasia." (p. 27). They depict a "shield" carpet, but similarly indicate that "there is as yet nothing which places the shield carpets in Shirvan" (p. 27).

Their view of the carpet's history in the Caucasus -- in terms of the surviving rugs -- thus begins in about 1800, and they describe the subject of Caucasian textiles prior to the 19th century as constituting a "terra incognito" (p. 27). In doing this they ignore the surviving rugs plausibly dated to the 18th century. Wilber lists 25 Caucasian rugs with inwoven dates between 1706 and 1799, with 65 more between 1800 and 1824, 46 from 1825 to 1849, and 135 from 1850 to 1874. 5 But Wright and Wertime admit to a certain distrust of dates, describing them as, "explicit, yet troublesome" (p. 42).

If one is not to rely on dates, then perhaps one could assess the probable nature of early weaving by assembling a group of archaic, vigorous, appealing rugs as illustrations. Indeed, the authors have taken almost the opposite approach, not choosing to illustrate a single early or unusual rug. They have chosen instead to depict only rugs previously published in Russian or Soviet sources. Of the 22 pile rugs depicted, five are black and white illustrations from a 1913 book by A.S.

Piralov,6 the purpose of which was to survey for the Russian government the carpet industry as it then existed in the Caucasus.

The largest group of pile carpet plates are 12 color lithographs from 1928.7 These illustrations are so lifeless than one cannot tell for certain whether they are painted rugs or particularly dull photos of woven pieces. There are four large reproductions of parts of carpet cartoons on graph paper from the Hoover Institute. In the entire book (with the possible exception of the "dragon" and "shield" carpets the authors do not believe are Caucasian) there are no illustrations of pile rugs they have actually seen. Consequently there are no structural analyses, no clear ideas about the dyes in these rugs -- since the authors only saw most of them in poor black and white or pre-1930 color photos -- and no clue as to the how most of them would look or feel to the examiner.

And what is one to make of information that accompanied such late, commercial pieces in the Soviet literature? When a 1928 lithograph of a "pinwheel" Kazak is identified as "Kazak pile rug, Borchalo District, Kuttar Village, 'Tamgaly' pattern," are we to take this as referring to other "pinwheels" in western collections -- some of which surely predate 1928 -- or merely some pieces of this design produced commercially in the Soviet period?

Another plate from the same source depicts a "Karabagh District pile rug, Kurdistan area, Kasym Ushagy village." This attribution raises more questions than it answers. Is there a village of that name, and, if so, where is it? The authors have included seven maps, most of which deal with the distribution of various ethnic groups, but there are no maps indicating the location of villages or towns. Not only is there a substantial series of Kasim Ushag rugs with Armenian inscriptions, but a translation of this label by Armenians indicates that it means, "in the manner of Ushak." Is the 1928 lithograph merely that of a commercial pattern, or does it relate to the Kasim Ushag rugs collected in the West today?

Why should the authors depict a 1913 "sunburst" as a "Karabagh district pile rug," about which they have no other information, when there are several dozen now identified with Armenian inscriptions, and one of these -- almost certainly not the oldest survivor -- is plausibly dated 1850. 8 I believe the problem here must relate to the authors' search for what they describe as "anchor pieces," which they use as "objects of established provenance which serve as a basis for identifying similar or related items" (p. 10). They further indicate that establishing the provenance of an anchor piece "requires the testimony of someone who had first-hand knowledge of its origin," and for this they take early photographic records. The idea of searching for anchor pieces is surely a good one, but of what value is a lithograph from 1928 in telling us about a rug design that may well have been woven a century before in a different location? I believe the authors have gone about identifying anchor pieces in a manner that is liable to be misleading.

Indeed, the section on pile rugs is replete with categorical statements that are highly dubious at best. The following sentences should be examined: "Baku rugs closely resemble those from Shirvan and appear in eight patterns" (p. 72). "They [Shirvan rugs] appear in approximately twenty different patterns" (p. 79). "There are at least 33 Karabagh rug patterns" (p. 93). "There are but eight patterns [of Ganja District rugs]" (p. 127). "Rugs [from the Kazak District] appear in approximately 16 patterns" (p. 131).

What on earth, the reader might ask, does this mean? The strange reality here is that Wright and Wertime are quoting these figures from a slender 1971 volume of N. Abdullaeva, 9 which deals primarily with the Soviet carpet industry of the mid-20th century. What does it have to do with the Caucasian rugs that Western collectors find interesting? When the authors inform us, categorically and apparently without question, that there are eight patterns used in the Ganja District (where, they say on p. 127, 33,000 weavers were working in 1913), I would like to know what these designs were. I do not even know for certain how to distinguish a Ganja rug from one made in the Kazak or Karabagh area, and on p. 127 the authors suggest that they do not know either. I was hoping they would be able to help me with this question. Yet they tell the reader there are eight patterns used there. While there may have been eight patterns used at some point during the commercial period, can one seriously believe this was true in 1850? Who are we kidding here?

The authors rightly speak of their skepticism around much of the accumulated wisdom of the Oriental rug field, but they make statements no less obtuse than some found in early rug books. One of the 1928 lithographs they reproduce shows a piece they label as a "Kuba District prayer rug, Konakend Village," but the photo provides no clue as to why it is so labeled. They inform the reader, however (p. 65), that "A prayer rug from Konakend is instructive in that it has no niche (mihrab), a reminder that any ritually clean object could serve for prayer." How, then, do they know it is a prayer rug? Are they believing something other than their eyes? Are they accepting an account in a Soviet publication dating from a time when religion was under constant attack from the state and mosques were being closed?

There are throughout the account of pile weaves numerous such puzzling statements. The authors' rather peculiar approach thus leaves me with a sense of disappointment and a feeling that the authors may have, perhaps unconsciously, introduced some form of distortion to establish their point that the flatweaves are the real indigenous textiles of the Caucasus and that the pile weaves, for the most part, represent the output of a highly organized carpet industry from the last several decades of the 19th century and the first decades of the 20th. Indeed, they have well documented just how enormous this industry was, and they also provide information leading to the impression that the pile weaves were pretty dull lifeless entities. There is perhaps a trace of moralizing here -- implicit in the text -- that seems to be informing the reader as to what he should and should not like.

But we should remember that the pile weaves depicted here were surely woven during the same period as the flatweaves, which were also products of the government sponsored and supervised home industry system the authors mention repeatedly. What evidence do we have, for example, that the verneh with stylized dragons or the Baku zili types are not also kustary (home industry) products in which the patterns have been sent from the design studio the authors indicate was located in Tiflis? While a number of collectors have developed an appreciation for Anatolian kelims that exceeds their liking for rugs of the same area, this is, to a large extent, based upon the survival of a large body of truly early and extraordinary kelims with a vastly greater range of designs than one finds from the Caucasus. Wright and Wertime seem to be taking much about the flatweaves on faith, as no truly early surviving Caucasian flatweaves have so far been identified. How can anyone know about their traditions?

It is also clear that most of the rest of us with an interest in Caucasian rugs gradually recognized some years ago that the great bulk of pre-1920 Caucasian rugs on the market are commercial products. Although many of us were thrilled by them 20 or 30 years ago, we have come to recognize that many, but not all, of the kustary products lack much real vitality. I personally did not know prior to reading this book the specifics about the designers working in Tiflis or the manner in which the industry was supervised by government representatives, but this information is well presented and plausible . These are not, however, the rugs that Caucasian rug collectors ordinarily find of interest today.

The James Burns catalogue, The Caucasus: Traditions in Weavings, 10 provides many good examples of the kinds of pre-commercial rugs the collector now is seeking, and pieces of this sort are simply not considered by Wright and Wertime, who focus more upon rugs contemporaneous with their written sources that date well into the commercial period. The twelve 1928 lithographs reproduced by Wright and Wertime appear to be of rugs no more than a few years old at the time, and the black and white photographs from 1913 -- plus the four color lithographs from the same period -- simply do not center upon the rugs of interest to the modern collector.

The consequence of this focus by the authors is that, more than anything else, they are providing a detailed, well-researched account of the commercial rug industry. Surely there is some point in doing such a job, and there is information provided that we all should appreciate as we incorporate it into our overview of the Caucasian rug. But it rather misses the point. In terms of pile rugs, it does not include a single example of any real power or charm, except for the initial plates of a dragon rug and a shield carpet, which the authors apparently do not believe are Caucasian.

This leaves a real void where the appreciation of these carpets is concerned, and one wonders whether the authors even like Caucasian pile rugs. Perhaps they do, but their style of the writing, while clear and precise, is so austere and dry as to drain away any trace of enthusiasm. And I believe most of the rest of us actually like or love some of the truly outstanding early Caucasian rugs, which we see as representing a vital and immediate indigenous folk art.

Thus one is left with an exquisite book about flatweaves which far outdistances the competition. The selections illustrated constitute many of the best examples I have seen in print, and the scholarship in this area meets the highest standards. The other book within this same set of covers is less successful and, at worst, even misleading as to the place of Caucasian pile carpets in the overall continuum of the Oriental rug.

One would be better served in print by the Ian Bennett book, with its 445 color plates of pile rugs, even though that author contributes little new information and makes no claims relating to fieldwork. At least Bennett has a sense of the full spectrum of the 19th century Caucasian pile rug. More importantly, he provides enough visual information from which the reader may formulate hie own tastes and opinions about the features that make for a richly satisfying rug or an empty commercial one.

While I believe this book belongs in the library of anyone interested in Caucasian rugs, I was hoping for more and believe the authors still capable of delivering better.

NOTES

1. Ian Bennett, Oriental Rugs, Vol I: Caucasian. 1981., Oriental Textile Press.

2. Ibid., p. 341.

3. Ibid., pp. 346-7.

4. This author will discuss the Wright and Wertime attribution of the dragon rugs to Tabriz in a subsequent paper. To their credit, they advance this idea as a hypothesis, without insisting that it is demonstrated fact.

5. Donald Newton Wilber, "A Descriptive Catalogue of Dated Rugs and Inscribed Rugs," Oriental Rug Review, Vol. 15, No. 4, 1995, p. 24.

6. A.S. Piralov, Kartkii ocherk kustarnykh promyslov Kavkaza, St. Petersburg, 1913.

7. M.D. Isaev, Kovrovoe proizvodstvo Zakavkaz'ya, Tiflis, 1932.

8. Dennis Dodds, Oriental Rugs: the Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Robert A. Fisher in the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, 1984, Plate 49.

9. N. Abdullaeva, Carpet Production in Azerbaijan, Baku, 1971.

10. James D. Burns, The Caucasus: Traditions in Weaving, Seattle, 1987."

Correspondence from Ron O'Callaghan in March 1997.

For Further Reading:

Persian Rugs and Carpet

Turkish Rugs

Turkmen Rugs

JBOC's Notes on the Bible