wool, 110 x145cms.
I think I’ve referred to Sean before - he and his wife Stefanie belong to a better class of dealer, at least socially. In fact, they are both charming and approachable people and Sean’s taste corresponds almost exactly with mine in many instances, so of course I have always found his shop a singularly peaceful and agreeable place in which to sit and chew the fat. This remains true, though less so, as he is in the process of succombing to that bane of all dealers: clutter. As a mild collect-aholic myself, I recognise and sympathise with the condition in others. The other day, Sean was showing me a couple of strips of gothic carved wood that he’d unearthed from his workshop - ‘no later than 14th century.’ Well, of course -if you love beautiful and rare things, and can’t help acquiring them, your shop will become cluttered. Anyhow, who am I to object?
Sean was part of the Ali Baba’s Cave outfit to which I referred in a recent post. (dealers often hunt in packs in these ‘promiscuous parts’.) He then acquired his own premises just up the road and, after a long career in English period furniture, has branched out into rugs. So it’s been interesting over the last year or two watching the process by which someone with taste and business acumen devotes himself to acquiring sufficient working knowledge of a new speciality to deal in it without falling flat on his face. I can’t offer any informed judgement on the financial aspect of his progress, but I certainly can vouch for his ability to find beautiful and unusual pieces.
This kilim astonishes me. I’ve never seen anything even remotely like it. Sean says it’s Persian, 60-70 years old. it looks to me as if it’s been woven by a disciple of Matisse. My impression is that Persian weavers, at least until possibly the very recent past, just did not depart like this from all the canons of traditional design.
persian-kilim-detail.jpg (try at 150%)
I think this piece is absolutely exceptional. I’m going to take a jpeg of it to Ali, my Iranian contact, who will surely be able to tell me lots about it. Then I’ll report back, instead of rabbiting on in ignorance.
I will have to confess that Sean let me pay this off by slow (and painful) steps. I’d bought a modern one from him a year or so before, and wanted to part-exchange it, so as to soften the blow, but he wasn’t having any of that. At the end of the day, I can’t complain. As I was trying to pay it off, he kept saying - ‘just take it, you’ll finish paying when you can.’ ’Sean’, I said, ‘the psychology of that is all wrong: it’s the anticipation of the day when I finally get it home, which sustains me in my efforts to pay it off.’ In fact, it cost less than a week’s average British wages, but I’m afraid I combine the twin vices of loving beautiful things and having very little money. In the end, I did manage to get into a bit of part-ex by making my very good friend and neighbour Meg an offer she couldn’t refuse. Which I think commits me to writing about Meg and featuring, as object number 18, something from her place.
Stop-press: No joy from Ali, but I’ve just discovered a website for SERIOUS rug enthusiasts: http://www.turkotek.com/ and am hoping to get a result finally. [ A few days later: I would never have believed - this little old kilim has opened the floof gates, no less. Check out this link
http://www.turkotek.com/VB22/showthread.php?s=&threadid=4409 Conclusion (after lively discussion) - the Kilim is Kurdish, from Bijar, NE Iran.
