Kilims

As Cidnee said, we visited a kilim shop yesterday. If you are in this part of the world, a visit to a carpet and/or kilim store is almost inevitable. Several of our students had already heard the usual carpet seller's spiel when they got caught in a torrential downpour a few days ago and sought refuge from the rain. They were, in some sense, a captive audience, although as they tell it the "big boss" apparently quickly figured out that his apprentice had bought him the wrong audience, as students are rarely big spenders for luxury items. In any case, I think the students who had already heard the usual spiel were feeling a little wary of potentially hearing it again, but they went along politely. Our friend Ali had arranged this for us, and I was unsure what to expect as well. It turned out to be a wonderful experience, and even the students who had become a bit jaded from their experiences with carpet salesmen already seemed to enjoy it and learn a lot. The shop we went to was actually owned by the father of an apprentice of Ali. Unlike most carpet sellers, he specializes in repairing old kilims. As a basic introduction to those of you who may be unfamiliar with "carpet-speak," "carpets" have pile. Like most of the wall-to-wall carpeting Americans have, they have a nice plush that you can sink your feet into (some are tall pile and others are very short, but there are always short fibers sticking up from a woven backing). "Kilims" are flat woven with no pile. In other words, they are more like very, very nice woven heavy throws, meant to be used as floor coverings or wall hangings. Probably the best analogy Americans might know are Navaho rugs. In addition to plain kilims, there are also a number of variations with embroidery or other decorative surface detail on top. These may be called cicims (jee-jims) or sumak (like the poison plant sumac). The father convinced me that I would not be able to tell these apart, as it is a skill that requires experience, and in fact he showed me some examples with both cicim and sumak on top. Needless to say, I will henceforth just think of them all as embroidery on top of flat weave. This business is rather unusual because as I mentioned, they specialize in repairing damaged kilims. They do restoration work for museums and repairs for private owners of kilims. This is a dying art, as increasingly the world moves from repairing and reusing things into throwing them away and buying something new. Making expert repairs has been a family business for many years, but the young apprentice's father says he will be the last in the business, and he is sending his son to learn a different trade from Ali. The labor involved in repairing an old kilim is often more costly than replacing the kilim entirely, except possibly in the case of museum pieces, and often the rips and tears are considered part of the authentic history of the piece, so they may not need to be repaired unless the kilim is damaged somehow in the museum itself. I think the students were pleasantly surprised because they had the opportunity to work on an old kilim and to experience most of the parts of the repair process. The shop dyes its own replacement wool and collects old dyed wool from kilims that are damaged beyond repair. There was a large bag of wool threads available, and the experts dumped these out and had the students help them find proper colors to match what was in the original kilim. This was much harder than it looked. In the end, they ended up separating several strands of slightly different colors and mixing them until they had an approximation of the correct color. When the repair work was done we got to see how the experts singe the wool with flame to alter the color slightly so it blends in. I was glad I wasn't the one holding the open flame to an old, valuable kilim!

Rachel and Nerlin trying their hand at repairing a carpet. Pile of available wool strands in the foreground.

Multicolored strands of wool

Ron and Rachel learning to tie a special set of knots around the fibers that will become the new fringe of the kilim so the edges won't unravel (even if you let your cat play with it)

Nerlin practicing weaving new strands of wool in with the old to create a patch that blends with the original fibers. One of our teachers looks on.

Alicia, Ron, and Rachel watching Hew, who has just learned a new way to thread a needle

Hew relaxing and drinking tea. Even though it is still Ramadan and the Muslim owners and employees in the store were not eating or drinking, they were incredibly gracious and prepared tea and cookies for all of us.

Zeyep (4 1/2 years old) has discovered the shop owner's camera and wandered off with it. Nerlin (who knows how valuable these cameras are) looks quite protective of the camera.

Ron, Rachel, and Hew admiring a hand-embroidered silk bed covering

Zeynep, the ever-energetic preschooler takes a brief pause from flitting around to rest on a pile of kilims.