Central Anatolian Kilim Fragment, 18th Century,  2’ 11” x 7’ 3” (as seen, overall photo)


The field pattern seen in this kilim lies at the source of the debate concerning the design origins.   The ongoing debate is, to me, ridiculous.  Given the fact Anatolian kilims appear to include a design pool foreign to the pile weavings of the region as well as divorced from so many of the other patterning seen in other flatweaves throughout the world, I am partial to believing they represent a much older aesthetic that we can possibly imagine or logically explain. 

I refer to the so-called mother goddess debate.  Walter Denny has proposed that this pattern, when turned upside down (or merely, around) is a carnation pattern derived from Ottoman velvets.  The refined courtly art of the Ottoman Empire appears to be subsequent to the foreign aesthetic seen in these kilims.

The pattern seen here may very well represent a synthesis of myths, ie. a mother goddess image bearing child as well as the bronze age theme of the “master” of animals or the surrounding world.  The idea of grasping birds (vultures?) in either hand connotes mastery of the animals, a theme seen in much earlier imagery, including the gold images from Egypt.

 
Egyptian image of the "master of the animals", with a god seizing two birds by their necks.
British Musuem

While proving evidence for a continuum of design over such a long period of time (the goddess image dates back 6000 years, from the Neolithic Period) with no physical evidence is impossible, the appearance of goddess imagery from that period through the Bronze Age in varying cultures in disparate locations is quite certain.

  

 


Goddess imagery is not unfamiliar with the advent of the myth of Christianity either.  It seems as if man has been carried this idea within the collective sub conscious and conscious mind for some period of time, an idea that is at the core of our very existence.



In spite of James Mellaart’s fallacious “findings” (including fictitious evidence), in spite of the absence of a clear and conscious continuum of patterning based upon concrete evidence, in spite of what those who read books voraciously regarding the histories and migrations of different tribal groups and peoples, I believe it is virtually impossible to dispel the goddess myth or this concept of  human mastery over the animal world as a fantasy when observed in the design pool of Anatolian kilims.  While Central Anatolia may not have been continuously populated by the same people for the past 6000 years, there is no question in my mind that a ‘memory’ of myth has undoubtedly prevailed over time.


From Catal Huyoc, central Anatolia, approx 5000 BCE,
goddess figure flanked by two felines

The language of these kilims is a foreign one, one that we, in the 21st century, are challenged to fully understand.  But given the existence of myths from the past, given the existence of goddess imagery from Catal Huyoc carved in stone and other goddess images cast in bronze from the Indus Valley culture of Mohenjadaro and elsewhere, given the Ordos bronzes from ancient inner Asia those from Egypt and elsewhere in the middle east, I am at a loss to offer any other explanation for the design evident in this particular kilim.   

I do not believe the weaver was consciously aware of the significance of what she was doing but, rather, weaving from a subconscious memory within the medium of warp and weft.  Some would argue the realization of such myths in more recent art forms reveals the presence of these ideas in our genetic code, an inalienable component of our very existence as human beings.

Others assert there is little difference between an 18th century and 19th century Anatolian kilim, in terms of color and design.  I would argue that I have yet to encounter later kilims with the quality of patterning seen in this example, complete with the goddess image bearing child, grasping birds with either hand.  Is it pure coincidence that this 18th century weaver was able to execute such a graphic rendering of what has been considered by aficionados of Anatolian kilims a classic type?  Possibly, I am not one to know and will let you, the reader, make your own decisions regarding the ongoing debate that inexplicably still rages in some circles.




 





















For further information on this piece, you may contact Thomas Cole