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Tibetan Rugs - A Tribal Tradition
Originally published HALI 49, © 1990
| Tibetan rugs occupy a lowly place in the hierarchy of oriental carpets. All too often Tibetophiles have exhibited late, synthetic dyed, truly forgettable weavings, bypassing the critical aesthetic standards by which all artifacts should be judged. But there are Tibetan rugs of undoubted age and beauty. Now, as a more representative sampling of antique tribal weavings begins to reach the Western market, a dealer and collector with wide Himalayan experience reviews the field, offers some speculative new ideas on the subject, and attempts to assess Tibetan carpets in a fairer light, even if, as he believes, entrenched prejudices will die hard. In particular, he proposes that conventional references to Chinese and Buddhist influence are inappropriate and suggest that the Tibetan weaving tradition should instead be viewed in a Central Asian tribal context. It is not surprising that Tibetan rugs should be so little regarded by discerning collectors. Much of the available literature is uninformative, exhibiting a narrow focus mainly concerned with Buddhism and Himalayan mysticism – interesting subjects in their own right, but with little to add to the discussing of an art form and its possible origins. It is as if the cultural and religious blinkers have been donned by authors who fail to treat Tibet as an integral part of Central Asia, viewing it instead as an isolated utopian Buddhist Shangri-la. |
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The Tribal Past
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| Throughout this article I refer to Central Asia and its tribal art and to the appearance on the market of Tibetan tribal weavings. According to Murray Eiland, “Early Chinese sources refer to a Tibet that was apparently organized along tribal lines and had no effective central authority.” But the tribal nature of early Tibetan society is seldom touched upon in studies of the plateau culture. The absence of a central authority, aggravated by the absence of a written language has made it all but impossible to gather information about that early period. The introduction of Buddhism from the Indian subcontinent in the 7th century helped to unify Tibet and provided the only medium by which we know anything of its ancient past. The consolidation of power within the monasteries was facilitated by the structure of Tibetan Buddhism, which called upone every family to provide a son for the clergy. By this means, |
the loyalty of the masses was ensured and the theocracy grew ever more powerful through the payment of tangible tribute in the form of land, livestock, gold, and textiles. The establishment of a ruling theocracy does not dispel the factionalism and tribal enmities. Different schools of thought vied for supremacy until the 17th century, when the Gelukpa sect became dominant. Earlier, real power had long rested in the western town of Sakya, seat of the Sakya Lama and his clan, who had dominated Tibet since the beginning of the Yuan dynasty in 1276. The Sakyas’ religious and political prominence was such that they received tribute from Kublai Khan after his Mongol hordes captured the throne in Peking, an honour that was not accorded to Lhasa, site of the oldest and most sacred Buddhist shrine in Tibet. |
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Figure 1. Early Tibetan Carpet, 0.81 x 1.57m (2'8" x 5'2") If not the oldest, certainly the most beautiful Tibetan carpet known to me, though I do tentatively date this piece to the 17th century and it may very well be much older. |
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Note the striking similarity between the design of the floral medallions in the rug compared to image to the right of a 13th century Central Asian or Chinese needle loop embroidery, also found in Tibet. (see HALI 43, p. 4, courtesy Lisbet Holmes, London) |
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DATING
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| To come to grips with the subject, one must be able to understand what is old and what is not. The difficulty in identifying old rugs, while not unique to the Tibetan carpet field, is particularly acute. With most other art forms dating is not a problem. The criteria an dating systems used for Tibetan paintings and statues are well understood by dealers, collectors and scholars, with few areas of disagreement. But dissension and confusion dominate discussion among people who have a real interest in Tibetan rugs. It is difficult to make general statements which will hold true in all cases, but an effort should be made to define acceptable parameters. |
The Tibetans’ unique methods of preparing natural dyes produced occasional stunning successes and frequent failures. The successes are all the more notable for their rarity. It is relatively uncommon to see a Tibetan carpet on the market with all natural dyes, and their presence is perhaps the first parameter in understanding the difference between what is genuinely old and what may be a 20th century product. My feeling is that 1890 is an approximate demarcation line between early and late production, but age is not necessarily a guide to what is collectable. |
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| Figure 5. This pair of tiger rugs would have been stuffed with straw and used as ornamental pillars on either side of a monastery doorway. Mid 19th century each 0.50m x 1.25m (1'8" x 4'1"), Private Collection |
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COLOUR and DYES
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| Colour is the single most immediately striking attribute of any oriental carpet. It is a natural assumption that Tibetan weavings with vegetal dyes qualify as old carpets but chemical dyestuffs were introduced on the plateau at a relatively early date (circa 1885) and were enthusiastically employed by those who hasd access to them. It was certainly much easier to dye wool with synethetic red than to boil madder root for days in order to achieve a strong shade. And the Tibetan aesthetic calls for strong, contrasting colours, as is true of other weavings originating in barren, colourless environs in many parts of the world. Strong shades of red, blue, yellow or gold, and on occasion, green , can be masterfully combined in Tibetan rugs, but such impressive skill is rare. The Tibetans used a wide range of dye plants and it was not unusual to have up to five different sources, each requiring different mordants, for any particular shade. Though undocumented and unstudied, the Tibetan dyers’ art was a domestic craft; there is no evidence of the professionalism seen among the Turkmen and other peoples of Central Asia, where it was the job of one person to dye wool and sell it to weavers. |
Fragmented information from Tibet indicates that individual weavers dyed their own wool and inevitably, some were more skilled than others. As a result, one sees carpets with unusually beautiful colours running on to the warps and wefts, either from improper mordanting or from insufficient rinsing after dyeing. In such cases, only scientific analysis can allay the suspicions of skeptics who hesitate to attribute age and importance to these few examples. In general, however, running colours indicate the presence of synthetic dyes, with reds the main culprit. Tip fading and colours highly fugitive to light are typical signs of synthetic dyes in oriental carpets. But with Tibetan rugs, one must also examine the fibres more closely when these problems are observed. In my experience, yellow dyes are subject to (sometimes very dramatic) fading. But I have yet to see what would categorically proclaim to be a synthetic yellow., and Dr. Paul Mushak’s recent study of this dye in Tibetan rugs (ORR 9/4, pp49-52), though limited beatss this out. I have often seen green faded to blue when the yellow component proved unstable but the indigo remained intact. |
Figure 6. Tibet, late 19th century |
| Tibetan weavings shows a penchant for the use of pink, and on certain older rugs I have seen a light-fugitive pale red, probably madder, which had faded to the base of the knot, just as one would expect from an aniline dye. Without recourse to scientific analysis in the field, one must turn the carpet over to see the original colour and note the variance of shades on the individual fibers,( which suggest the use of vegetal dyes, not synthetics). Other pinks I have seen are very strong, with tip fading, and one would confidently assume the use of aniline dyes. But, given the multitude of dyestuffs used by Tibetans in different areas, one should proceed cautiously when identifying the dye source. This is not to say that one should suspend judgement on what is beautiful or not. With the Tibetan’s expertise in dyeing and lack of uniform results, one can easily be looking at a 19th century piece with an unattractive palette typical of later production. As with all Asian art, old does not necessarily mean beautiful. Problems also exist with other dyes. Tibetans may be the only people in the world who had trouble with indigo, and were unable to apply it to their lanolin rich highland wool with any consistency. |
Even the best indigo-blues in old Tibetan rugs show a marked abrash. The unusually rich blue on the carpet (Figure 1) is a tribute to the dyer’s skill, but it is not flawless with slight variations in the saturated colour of the field which one would not expect to encounter in tan expertly dyed Turkmen weaving. Purple is another favourite Tibetan colour, often derived from insect sources such as lac. It appears that a later technique of over-dyeing indigo with a synthetic red masks the true nature of the dye to the naked eye. One of the most interesting aspects of Mimi Lipton’s book was the random analysis of brown dyes from a few tiger rugs. Invariably, what was assumed to be a walnut brown turned out to be madder. The unusual shades were the result of the age of the madder root used, the particular variety found on the plateau, and the method of preparation. In fact, walnut appears to be a relatively rare dye, used only by weavers with no access to the madder needed to get a brown shade. Some oranges were also shown to be madder, but generally this colour occurs as synthetic dye, and is rarely seen on early carpets. |
Figure 7. The powerful archaic, reciprocal trefoil border design is comparable to that seen on certain rugs from teh oasis towns of east Turkestan. Tibet, 19th century |
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TWENTIETH CENTURY WORKSHOP RUGS
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| Just to confuse matters, further, there is a substantial group of naturally dyed 20th century weavings. Rich families in the regions of Gyantse and Shigatse sponsored production on their family estates, providing looms, dyestuffs and materials. | This urban workshop production was a relatively short-lived phenomenon but accounts for many of the carpets illustrated in the literature. As reproductions of older pieces, some examples retain a degree of artistic merit and integrity. Designs are usually pictorial or floral |
A very pretty mat which was probably made in a workshop environment in either Shigatse or Gyantse. Late 19th/early 20th century, all wool foundation, with natural dyes of excellent quality. |
| Only by examining a multitude of these rugs can one easily recognize that they were woven from cartoons, though all are so similarly drawn they cannot have been made any other way. Many show a characteristic refinement of design which is evidence of a workshop environment geared to producing | carpets for the urban gentry - a socially ambitious group whose taste was much influenced by sophisticated Chinese art and cultures. As spaciously drawn and boldly graphic rug (Figure 11) with only two colours (indigo and natural beige) is a better than average example of this group, which is, for the most part, without merit. |
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Figure 8 Tibet, 19th century, 0.65m x 076m (2'2" x 2'6") The sturcture o fthis shaggy long piled little rug sets it apart from other Tibetan wewavings, but relates to teh Kirghiz and Uzbek sleeping rugs of the Central Asian steppes. McCoy Jones Collection, MH deYoung Memorial Museum, San Francisco, Inv. no. 1980.32.118 |
Figure 9 Uzbek Lakai Embroidery, Central Asia, 19th century, 0.77m (2'6") square. Note the similarity between the differnt cross motifs and the traditional Tibetan dorje or thunderbolt symbol seen on the carpet in the adjacent photo. Courtesy Eberhart Herrmann, Munich. |
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STRUCTURE
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| Having considered the use of dyes in a carpet, one’s next step is to come closer and touch it, feel the wool., turn it over to see the knot density and finally to bend the pile back and examine the fiber content, colour and knotting technique. At first glance one may occasionally mistake a Chinese or central Asian carpet for a Tibetan one, but a closer look at the structure will leave one in no doubt. Tibetan rugs are almost |
invariably loop-knotted – a technique which, although known and used in other cultures in earlier times, is now unique to Tibet. Just why it has survived on the Tibetan plateau is uncertain, but having seen Tibetans weaving in Nepal and Afghans (usually children with manual dexterity and sharp eyesight) laboriously tying Persian kntos in Kabul work shops, there I no doubt in my mind that the so called “Senneh loop” is a much faster and less demanding technique. |
Diagram of typical Tibetan knot, taken from Denwood's book, The Tibetan Carpet, p. 43, fig. 83c |
| The importance of knot counts is often exaggerated when determining the merit of a carpet. Older Tibetan rugs are generally coarsely knotted but some surprisingly sophisticated designs have been achieved with as few as nine knots per square inch (140 kn/sq. decimeter). Even for a Tibetan carpet this is a particularly low count, but 15 knots per square inch is common. Not all early Tibetan carpets are so coarse – perhaps the oldest example I know (Figure 1) has 22 knots per square inch. |
When attempting to draw conclusions from the structural characteristics of carpets, my thoughts invariably return to a small run in San Francisco’s De Young Museum (Figure 8), which is illustrated by both Denwood and Eiland. The latter also included a structural analysis which sets it apart from all other carpets published to date. I wrote, “It is considerably thicker than most Tibetan rugs, and is woven with the knots encircling every other warp leaving one entire shed visible in the back with no design. |
Figure 10. 19th century, 0.70m x 1.52m (2'4" x 5') |
| This is the only rug I have found with this technique…. Pile wool, 2 strands Z-spun, S plied, 3 of these yarns then Z cabled (this is the only Tibetan example I have found with cabled pile yarn)” Unfortunately, when Eiland gathered information during his 1978 journey to China, he was unable to explore in Tibet, which was not yet open to the curious. I have visited some of Tibet’s monasteries and houses, and I have seen a few examples in this unusual techniqe in the monasteries of Drepung in Lhasa |
and Tashiljumpo in Shigatse. The structure of their warp faced back is similar to the thick, warm sleeping carpets which the Kirghiz and Arab Uzbeks weave to ward off the bitter cold of the highlands. The rarity of these unusual carpets suggests an early, possibly 18th century dating. A to their significance, I speculate that they may be the oldest surviving Tibetan rugs, representatives of a type which preceded the standard weaving technique. |
 A detail image of an old Tibetan rug woven in the warp faced back technique, a rug that depicts a rather complex, highly evolved design utilising only 9 knots pers square inch. |
| On the few occasions when I have seen them in private homes, they are in less than pristine condition, which adds weight to the hypothesis. Authoritative skeptics have proposed that they are isolated examples of limited production, without special significance. But their archaic designs coupled with good colours and an ancient weaving technique means only one thing to me – they must be early pieces which have yet to be recognized as such by ‘experts’. Even if they do not predate the 19th century, they can give us some idea of what early Tibetan tribal carpets were like. |
The Tibetans can shed little light on the subject. They are woefully ignorant of their own history and culture in the years prior to their country’s annexation by China in 1959. Some refugees living in India an dNeipal have suggested that carpets of this type come from the far reaches of western Tibet. This remote region, which few Tibetans can claim to be from or have visited, offers a convenient place to single out as the source for unfamiliar artifacts. |
 Figure 11. A fine example of workshop weaving using only natural beige wool and indigo dye, retaining something of the spirit of an earlier period. Private Collection, NY |
 Figure 12. Tibetan Rug, warp faced back technique, stepped polygon/cruciform design. 19th century. Courtesy of James Blackmon |
 Figure 18. Tibetan Rug, 19th century, 0.84m x 1.30m (2'9" x 4'3") All wool foundation, natural ivory and indigo. |
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MATERIALS
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| Foundation materials are deemed important when dating Tibetan rugs. Dealers in Lhasa and Kathmandu are always anxious to point out that their carpets have woolen warps as evidence of an early date. Indeed, some of the earliest carpets do have woolen warps, but a small number of early pieces with handspun cotton warps should not be overlooked. Their vibrant designs are consistent with a date in the 19th century, or earlier. As for woolen warps being an indication of age, one must | remember that some 20th century workshops strove to re-create the feel of earlier pieces by the exclusive use of wool and natural dyes, despite the more general use of machine spun cotton warps and synthetic dyes. Urban workshop wool is usually more finely spun and denser in the finished product than the nomadic and village wool of the 19th century pieces, and is generally less lustrous. In contrast to the rather lackluster, dead wool of current production, older rugs have soft shiny wool. |
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DESIGNS
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| What other criteria do we use when classifying oriental carpets as old, beautiful or important? Certainly the design and drawing must be examined. In almost all books on Tibetan rugs, there is a section on designs which includes a discussion of Buddhist and Taoist symbology. |
Understanding the symbolism is important in appreciating the weavings, as most rugs coming out of Tibet include these symbolic elements, in addition to animal (dragons, birds, snow lions) and floral designs. The Textile museum catalogue and exhibition focused mainly on this type and documented them very thoroughly, classifying them as 20th century urban and village production. |
 Figure 14. Tibet, mid 19th century, 0.86m x 1.63m (2'10" x 5'4") Rugs such as this were used to cover mule train packs - a form of protection for the traders and their good. A dynamic design type of which this is the best example I have ever seen. |
| Kuloy’s Tibetan Rugs (1982) presented late carpets with Chinese inspired designs, almost all of which reflect prolific production in the taste of the urban elite. But it is rare to find a 19th century carpet with pictorial designs which retains the integrity of the earlier pieces. |
The typical designs of older carpets, however, have little to do with the common perception of Tibetan rugs. Boldly drawn medallions and graphic geometrics are outside what is generally considered to be the Tibetan carpet mainstream, though some types such as the checkerboard patterns(Figures 16, 17) have recently attracted attention. |
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An incredible example of Tibetan weaving. Ostensibly a throne back depicting two dragon figures in opposition to one another, but the reciprocal space between the dragons forms an ancient mother/goddess image complete with an infant (a jewel) moving through the birth canal. The dyes are incredibly saturated with a preponderance of lac used, suggestive of an early date on this piece, possibly circa 1840. The dye is an imported dyestuff, and the skill with which it was applied to the wool indicates it was done by "Pebouns" or natives of Bhutan from where the dye was originally gathered. A very few rugs of this quality came through the marketplaces of Kathmandu, suggesting a limited production in an urban environment by master weavers, true artists rather than craftsmen. |
| As with Islamic carpets, objective examination of the drawing and the use of reciprocal spacing is a valuable test of aesthetic quality (refer to the photo above). Design degeneration and a loss of symmetry are usually indicative of a later date and quite possibly of export-oriented commercial production. The same critical standards should be applied when judging Tibetan carpets. |
Some experts and certain prolific collectors believe that my approach downgrades their personal, subjective response and discounts the creative whims of the individual weavers, whose devotion to Buddhism accounts for so many of their thoughts and actions, and whose widely recognised sense of humour accounts for some of their whimsical and apparently less sophisticated efforts at the loom. |
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| In Tiger Rugs of Tibet, for example, it was proposed that this sense of humour accounts for some of the less realistic, cartoon-like renditions, forgetting that well executed pictorial art In this medium is a difficult task for nomadic and village weavers. It is clear that most were not skilled enough to execute their drawing with a strong, sure hand. Good drawing can either be attributed to reasonable age or to a sure hand at a later date. The skilled use of empty space or of reciprocals is important when judging the tribal art of Central Asia. The yellow and purple reciprocal trefoil border in Figure 7 closely resembles that seen in certain 18th century |
East Turkestan rugs (Bidder, Carpets from Eastern Turkestan, pl. V). The dazzling reciprocal effect continues into the field where either colour can be seen as the primary design. To execute such a design successfully requires complete familiarity with its elements. The use of space in the medallions on a powerfully drawn antique saddle carpet (Figure 15), allows the eye to wander from the primary white design to the subtle and pleasing blue reciprocal. Such subteltey is rarely, if ever, encountered ion 20th century weavings from either Tibet or elsewhere in Central Asia. |
Figure 16. Checkerboard Horse Cover, Tibet, circa 1900, 1.18m x 1.54m (3'10" x 5'1") Such rugs are unusual, intended for use on top of the animal and covered by the saddle. Courtesy Eberhart Herrmann |
| Space is equally well used by the weaver of the rug in Figure 10. The floating rosettes surrounding the hoe three bold ‘gols’ impart movement and elasticity fto a rigidly controlled design. Note the contrasting colour of the central medallion, a design concept derived from early Buddhist iconography. Which symbolizes the seated Buddha flanked by two disciples. However, the actual elements of the design deny any direct | Buddhist influence as in Bidder’s words (p.48), “….its colourings and design emblems are still based on its own Turk origins. The Turk basis was faithfully passed on and preserved through centuries of Gandhara-Buddhist and its Grecian Indian influences. Even at this early stage the design motifs seemed already to have been established in the form we know.” Although, concerned with east Turkestan weaving, Bidder’s comment is equally applicable to Tibetan rugs. |
 Figure 17. Tricoloured Checkerboard Rug, Tibet, 19th century, 0.89m x 1.63m (2'11" x 5'4"), wool foundation |
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BUDDHISM’S ROLE
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| The idea that Buddhism played a major role in the origins of the Tibetan weaving traditions is, at best, improbable. Weaving was a secular , domestic craft first practiced by nomads and simple village folk. It does not originate in the urban centers, where religious art was highly sophisticated and refined. Carpet weaving was not patronized by urban aristocrats and the ruling theocracy until as late as the 19th and early 20th centuries. |
Older monastery carpets are virtually unknown (aside from the warp faced back variety) but carpets made for the lamaistpurposes – USUALLY late with strident chemical colours – are at the heart of today’s active collectors’ market. As older rug depicting Buddhist or religious themes are very rare, one can safely assume Buddhism had little if any influence on the evolution of Tibetan carpet art. Indeed, to step or sit upon symbols with religious significance is considered inauspicious. |
Detail of a truly old and fantastic Tibetan rug depicting a classic Tantric theme, a dancing skeleton with a variety of animals frolickng. This is the only authentic rug I know of depicting this type of image. |
| It is , however, worth noting the few examples that do survive, such as the rug in Figure 19, a curious runner of not later than the mid 19th century. Whether this is a Tantric carpet or not is debatable – one dealer has proposed that is is Bonpo (the pre-Buddhist religion of tribal Tibet, which survives in isolated pockets.) A pair of interesting pillar carpets (Figure 5), was used to adorn the outside of a monastery, where they were places on |
either side of the main doors, stuffed with grass and hung to resemble small pillars. The alignment of the tiger stripes as ell as the materials, colours and the archaic finish at either end date them to the mid 19th century. They clearly predate all other examples of this type and offer evidence of early monastic weavings. But whether these early pieces were ordered by monasteries or wer unsolicited donations is unclear. |
 A detail from a pillar rug with tiger stripes and skull motifs. An old and extremely rare example of a tantric religious motif executed within the medium of wool weaving. |
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Figure 19. Monastery Long Rug (fragment), Tibet, 19th century, 0.53m x 2.06m (1'9" x 6'9") The iconography of this curious rug may well be derived from the pre-Buddhist, animist Bonpo religion of Tibet. |
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A NEW BREED
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| The market hunger for rugs with ‘religious’ or mystical significance has led to the production of fakes. These new, made-to-look-old rugs normally depict the Tantric themes which so appeal to collectors of Tibetan art. Together with tiger rugs, they are the most expensive pieces on the market. The ever wily Tibetans are more than happy to give the |
market what it wants producing new carpets for little cost, artificially aging them and selling them for high prices. These fakes are dotted among the genuine pieces in some of the largest collections, whose owners find the attraction of flayed human skins, dancing skeletons, and tigers irresistible. |
 Fake tiger rug, plate 65, Tiger Rugs of Tibet, Mimi Lipton |
 Detail of the fringe of the fake tiger rug featured in the adjacent image. This type of end finish does not exist in authentic pieces. While the photo is not clear due to the small detail lifted off of the photograph in the book, one can see the manner in which the end finish is handled, with a braided technique to discourage the wefts from coming loose. This is a technique one never sees in truly old rugs from Tibet. In fact, the fact that they did not handle such details well accounts for the use of the red or blue cloth often seen sewn onto the edges of antique Tibetan rugs. Additionally, the palette of these fake rugs is very consistent, suggestive of a single work shop origin. |
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CENTRAL ASIAN CONNECTIONS
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| The correspondences of design and function between Central Asian and Tibetan tribal weavings cannot be ignored. Take for example Turkmen ‘jijims’, small square mats for the floor of the wooden bridal litter carried by a camel. Though no camels are used in Tibetan marriages, specifically made square carpets play an integral part in the ceremony. They are often woven with auspicious symbols, perhaps the most common being talismans against the evil eye such as the interlocking crosses formed in the checkerboard pattern. |
Eiland has noted the similarity of Tibetan door rugs to Turkmen ensis. Indeed, such door carpets are made and used by nomads throughout Central Asia. The apotropaic cross configuration often appears in the their design and the emblems with the quadrants often signify tribal affiliation. The rather unusual door carpet (Figure 20), is decorated with a boldly drawn endless knot somewhat reminiscent of a Central Asian ‘gol’. Interestingly, Tibetans to whom I showed this graphic, two dimensional rendition of the endless knot were at first confused, unable to identify the auspicious symbol for what it is. |
 Figure 20. Door Rug, Tibet, 19th century, 0.94m x 1.63m (3'1" x 5'4"). All wool foundation. The red is madder dyed. The obvious similarity in format and function between such rugs and Turkmen ensi has often been noted in the literature, and represents a common Central Asian tribal heritage. Private Collection |
| The presence of cross fertilization from the Central Asian design pool cannot be denied. Another such auspicious symbol, the crossed or double dorje or thunderbolt (Figure 8) bears a close resemblance to motifs seen in Kirghiz appliqué work and Uzbek Lakai embroideries (Figure 9). The similarity prompts me to speculate on its origin, no doubt to the horror of devotees who would be loath to atrace the roots of their Buddhist symbolism to the ‘wild’ stppe nomads. In another interesting medallion design, the vertical and horizontal configurations with the medallion form an ancient fertility symbol which dates back at least 3000 years. It is widely used by the Turkic tribes of the steppes as a primary an secondary design element and is especially favoured by the Uzbeks in their carpets and embroideries. |
The significance of these cross-cultural links is conjectural when taken out of context. However, the steppes of Central Asia provide the geographically closest tribal culture to Tibet and the undeniable correspondences must be more than just coincidental. The Tibetans had direct contact with the steppe culture from as early the 7th and 8th centuries. Their ruler initiated expansionist military campaigns and occupied most of east Turkestan. Other writers have suggested that captured slaves could have brought weaving skills and Turkic designs to Tibet, but this overlooks the fact that there in any case, Turkic Muslims living in Tibet and that the border between the steppes and the plateau is undefined in the midst of a vast desert wasteland. There is no reason why steppe nomads should not have wandered into the Tibetan realm a millennium ago, or much more recently, passed on their design tradition and even wove some of these carpets themselves. |
Figure 21. Saddle Rug (fragment), Tibet, 19th century. Photo Courtesy Mimi Lipton, London |
| The speculations I offer here are new in discussions of Tibetan rugs. No one interested in the artifacts of the plateau culture has attempted to study the Tibetan people within a tribal context. Most explorations of Tibetan art concern themselves almost exclusively with the influence of Buddhism and its associated cults. Yet even acclaimed Buddhist scholars living in Kathmandu acknowledge that ancient Tibetan references to the social organization of the plateau are incomplete and that the history of the region was rewritten at an early date to expunge all memories of its animist past. |
Exploration of archaeological sites might even unearth examples of early weaving techniques and designs, but such progress is more in the hands of the Chinese government in Beijing. My hpe is that others, better qualified than I, will study this are and exchange ideas as a contribution to further understanding. Such scholarly endevour, if removed from the mindset of Buddhist precepts, would do more for the field than any of the recent exhibitions and marketing exercises. Perhaps then weavings of artistic merit can be judged dispassionately for their historic value and assume their proper place in the world of textile art. |
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POSTSCRIPT - 2003
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| Transcribing this article has been a revelation. I have not truly gone over this piece of writing, word by word, since I submitted my typewritten manuscript so many years ago. Much has occurred in the Tibetan rug field since this was written, and obviously many other rugs have emerged from Tibet since inital publication. Originally intended as a primer on Tibetan rugs at an early time, it well served that purpose. Additionally, I have written more articles since, expressing my evolving thought processes. I plan to re-produce those efforts at some point, including articles which originally appeared in Oriental Rug Review and OCTS (Oriental Carpet and Textile Studies, an ICOC publication). To organize my thoughts is a somewhat monumental task given the breadth of the subject, but I will give it a try. |
First of all, the characteristics of the weave, materials, colour and design of the rug in Figure 1 clearly, in my mind, distinguish it from any other Tibetan rug I have ever seen, and I have seen more than most. Given the length of time since this article was written, it constitutes literally hundreds of antique weavings from the plateau. The corrosive nature of every dye present, the use of a bleached white wool (corroded as well) is unique in my experience. The drawing, while not unfamiliar, is exceptionally well conceived, so delicately handled, that it, too, suggests an origin from a totally different era. The border configuration is superficially the least remarkable feature but bears a startling similarity to ancient Anatolian weavings (the reciprocal space delineated in blue), with the primary pattern hardly resembling the so-called ‘butterflies’ or ‘bats’ of traditionally late Tibetan rugs. I have always felt that a 17th – 18th century date for this rug was conservative, and still do. (It has yet to be subjected to C-14 testing.) |
 A 'tsutruk' weaving with an unusually formatted design. It is unusual to see them with anything but the type of abstract patterning seen in the adjacent photograph. The red is a synethetic dye. Woven in three narrow strips. |
 An unusual example of the 'tsutruk' style of Tibetan rug. The red is a synthetic dye, or at the very best, mixed with madder root. Woven in two strips |
| The mention of the rug in the deYoung Museum bearing the unusual structure (Figure 8) is very superficial at this late date in time. There has been much written about these rugs, most of which is based on ‘research’ performed in situ, relying upon Tibetan hearsay. Approaching this group of rugs from a strictly structural perspective, there are at least three or four distinctly different types, using completely different wools for the warps. One would think that different ‘groups’ of weavers are responsible as the weave types are so distinctly different. These different structures, at times, possibly indicate different periods as it is clear some examples date to the 20th century. There are also a number of different palettes that appear, suggesting different geographical areas from which the dyes are derived and probably where the rugs were woven. To attribute these ‘warp faced back’ rugs to a single weaving area appears to be disingenuous. Dating these rugs with any certainty is virtually impossible but a few may actually garner a useful C-14 result. | Also, a group of rugs has appeared in the marketplaces that was unknown at the time of publication in 1990. The ‘tsutruk’ weavings, simple knotted rugs with little design produced on a small, horizontal backstrap loom are on the market in increasing numbers. They are not well made, have an almost blanket like texture and few seen these days appear to date into the 19th century. More commonly seen with merely a single colour, a few depict patterns which are either abstract or bear a relationship to known iconography (this last group is extremely rare, seen above right). These pieces usually appear with cotton warps, more often than not machine spun cotton, which indicates the relatively late date of manufacture. Undoubtedly the tradition is an old one of which very few truly old examples have survived a life of rigourous use on the high plateau. |
 Rugs being woven in a workshop setting, Gyantse |
| Some images have been added to this original text, images of rugs I have owned or have had in my possession for one reason or another over the years. I apologise to those who may own those rugs today for not requesting “permission” to reproduce these images, but the rugs were with me at the request of the owner and no one ever asked me not to photograph them. No image was ever reproduced or disseminated until this time and within the context of this article, I feel their inclusion is necessary as well as appropriate and in no way compromises the integrity of the weaving or that of the present owners. |
Finally, the original manuscript from which these 4500 words were taken was more than twice this length. Much of the personal tone of the article was removed, for the better. Still, some persists as my ‘voice’ was not glossed over with new age ‘PC speak’. Obviously, the tone of my writing has thankfully changed over the years, a writing style has evolved with a more even approach. And the editing style of HALI, too, has evolved as I see word usage and phrases that would be changed today if given the opportunity. But in the spirit of faithfully re-producing the original text, I have refrained from the type of further editing this article requires. |
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Original photos and text appeared in HALI 49, © 1990 |