F
or the nomadic peoples of Turkey the tending of flocks and herds has determined the basic traditions of their life. Their sheep and goats supply food; hand-spun goat hair, woven as tent coverings, and felt, made into a yurt from matted fibers of their animals, provide a modest shelter. The woven wool from sheep and hair from goats become clothing and fabric for other household uses. The nomadic shepherds of Turkey still migrate from mountains to plains in search of winter and summer pastures for their flocks of sheep and herds of goats. The shepherds must move each season, not always to the same locations. Increasingly, they must seek new locations because the traditional grazing lands disappear with road building, reforestation, and farming on sites once annually leased to shepherds. Changes in cultural patterns add further obstacles to the old system of nomadic life. Turkish law requires that the nomads send their children to school, usually located a bus ride away. The routine of school leaves little time for children to sit beside their mothers at the loom and learn to weave. Furthe~ore, the mothers have less need to weave containers for household items since plastic and tin containers are available. The modem world has entered the tent and the yurt. Similarly, the truck has replaced the camel for transporting possessions from camp to camp, and so few nomads keep camels, once an essential part of their mobility. My first sight of their dark tents was from a bus window while traveling from Adana to Antakya on the southern coast several years ago. I was moved by the sight of the tents themselves, by the configuration of tent encampments, and finally by the realization of how unusual it was that the nomadic way of life could still exist at the end of the twentieth century. Opportunities to return to Turkey over fifteen times in subsequent years have allowed me to traverse a great deal of that fascinating country and pursue a journey of discovery about their art of weaving. The magnificent kilims and a few of the camel bags were until recently what the general public saw of Turkish weaving. However, in the past two decades several significant publications have shown how varied and complex the studies of Turkish weaving have become. This exhibit provides an opportunity to look at the less spectacular, but no less beautiful, utilitarian weavings made for the nomadic household. Furthermore, by restricting this exhibit almost exclusively to kilim or flat woven objects, we have chosen to deal with the most basic and the oldest techniques in the weaving repertoire. The felt piece in the exhibit is significant because felt, the shed hair of an animal fashioned into fabric, may well have been the first rug or covering people eyer used. In the piece on display, the felt has been elaborated with a simple tree of life design, one of the oldest designs used in Anatolia, and has been made in the shape called a rnibrab, a niche in a mosque indicating the direction of Mecca. The weave is an exception to the kilim technique, as are also the two shaggy pieces in the display, although their foundation is a simple warp and weft weave with the "shag" worked into the piece. One of these weavings has the stepped rnibrab; the other has markings that an owner designed for identifying his animals. Other pieces in the exhibit show colors that are incredibly rich, with eloquent and complex patterns and a use of inventive ornamentation that constantly varies. When a pattern seems to achieve some kind of symmetry, it is always surprisingly broken, as if to let us know that the weaver could always make a personal statement. We live in an age when the signature on a piece of art has great significance. It is heartening to come upon objects, such as these, with no signage other than that which identifies the piece by color, design, size, type of material used to weave the piece. We recognize the startling white cotton from the south, the deep green or rich brown from the northeast, the more vibrant, colorful pieces from the southwest, and we can distinguish between the exquisite, tightly woven pieces from Bergama and old Armenian gold threaded pieces from around Lake Van. Travelers have recorded seeing caravans traveling in the early twentieth century in long camel trains covered with kilims, each identified by the kind of weavings covering the laden camels. In the search for pieces for this
exhibit, it was possible to go to reputable shops and to show photographs of pieces already obtained andto have dealers readily identify their region. Although these weavings are "anonymous" in the western gallery tradition, they were part of the daily lives of the families, and the names of the women artists and the authorship of the weavings were known within the more intimate circle of families. Useful objects all. Most of these are the simplest of containers for holding the basics of life: grain, bread, gathered brush, a child. They can be used to spread a family's food upon, to sleep on, to store and transport the family's belongings. Pieces that achieve these practical uses are woven in plain flat weave, cicim, soumak, zili, in designs that are delicate, brave, and outrageous. Just as colorful pieces were tied to the camels in caravan lines, and as identifiable as telling which tribe they were a part of, the sacks line up on three sides of the tent forming a magnificent decoration. Early photos attest to the complex, varied interior tent scene. The knowledge that the woven item was to be a permanent part of the household environment must have added a great deal to the central care and concern in weaving. These pieces often lasted for decades, and indeed some of the items in this exhibit date to at least the earliest part of the twentieth century, a few into the nineteenth. The refinements added to the weave, silk and metallic threads, white cotton (so distinctly different from white wool in a design), tassels, beads, ribbons, courie shells, bits of hair, adornments not often seen in larger kilirns all help make the smaller pieces distinct. That any weavings which were in daily use should survive is unusual, and in fact the oldest pieces in this exhibit are no longer functional. They were preserved simply because they were superb examples of what had been woven. The items here span at least a century, and along with showing kilirn techniques show the use of dyes from the natural dye of late nineteenth century to the increasing use of synthetic dye. Though present day weaving has shifted to commercial dye, there is an attempt to return to the use of plant and mineral dye. What did remain intact until the last few decades was the design and weave construction. Because the same tribal patterns of movement remained somewhat fixed, so too what was woven in one region remained fixed. As shifts in migration, voluntary or government encouraged, moved peoples, more adapting and changing of weaving patterns took place. As any sense of communalization entered the weaving force it became more apparent that patterns woven in any area were not necessarily the pattern the weavers may have voluntarily chosen, or had any emotional attachment to. A relatively simple process was involved in the weaving of the items in this exhibit. Large flat pieces were woven on larger wooden looms consisting of posts and horizontal bars, easily assembled and moved with the family goods. Smaller items like bags were woven in long panels and stitched together on two sides. The front was intended to be seen and carried the major design, while the back remained plain. The greater exceptions to this rule were small bags, sewing bags, and some carrying bags that had different designs on front and back. A few of the bags have been opened to show the design construction and to illustrate the design changes on front and back. Most often in the case of older bags only the front side remains intact. Even the fragments that do remain tell us a great deal about the variety in weaving within a single group of weavers. The Malatya bags, including the large complete open panel that carried design on front and back, and the many small face panels show variety in the use of the lozenge as a major decorative device. Using one, two, or three, or a series of small lozenges surrounding a major design we see through use of color and weave an endless possibility of variation. Scale, design, material (cotton, wool, silk, metallic thread), all get used inventively. If we cannot read literature from the people who inhabit the tents, we can look at these objects, imagine them hanging from their tents, lining the walls, covering the floors, providing a magical richness of design and color. From these weavings we read the hopes and desires of their creators: the wish for a good marriage, family security, protection for the flocks from predators, woven signs to ward off the evil eye, to keep the spiders away, the wish for good fortune. We can see the hopes for riches, fertility, eternity, woven flowers, birds, vines, and stars. All are visible daily. Most designs seem to have their sources in religious representations or in the natural world. . The world at the beginning of the twenty-first century shows us images of people we have had little access to in any century before. Their lives, their customs, their way of living seem foreign to our sensibilities. What we see in this exhibit is a group of weavings, which are for the most part no longer produced. Because there is no time to weave, no need to make the weavings when plastic, tin, and a cheap imitation can suffice, we see meaning for traditions pass. It is hard to imagine what replaces the beauty of a row of beautifully woven decorative and useful bags in a tent. I saw nothing like them in the tents I visited in 2000. The joy of finding these remains of a great tradition of weaving and sharing them now comes as a kind of affirmation of the idea that some works of the human hand and heart need to survive even after they leave their creator and their original usefulness. Keith Achepohl Elizabeth M. Stanley Professor of the Arts, University of Iowa Cover: Left: Center: Right:
YastikiPillow (opened), Central Anatolia - Yoruk/Konya (Kecimushine), early 20th Century, 58"x 27", wool on wool. HararlStorage Bag (opened), Central Anatolia, late 19th Century, 78"x 55", wool on wool. . Heybe/Saddle Bag (bag face), Eastern Anatolia - Malatya, early 20th Century, 32"x 35", wool on wool. Cuval/Storage Bag, Eastern Anatolia - Malatya/Gaziantep, mid 20th Century, 39"x 30", wool on wool with cotton. This publication was funded by the Jundt Art Museum's Annual Campaign 2001-2002. Š Jundt Art Museum, Gonzaga University, Spokane, Washington 99258-0001
I