When I was asked to contribute an article on how, if at all, From the Bosporus to Samarkand: Flat-Woven Rugs had affected me as a collector, the answer was rapid: Bosporus was a seminal work that greatly influenced my entire generation's vision of collectible textiles. Specific instances flashed to mind.
When I first became interested in oriental rugs in the late 1960s, there was a dearth of literature on the subject: Hawley, Mumford, Dilley, Kendrick and Tattersall, and the inimitable Jacobsen was the range offered at the library. Like savoir faire, the Ardebil mosque carpet was everywhere. But among the fuzzy black and white pictures and the occasional color plate, not a bag, not a trapping, not a cover could be found.
| The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, 1961.39.18, Arthur D. Jenkins Collection. Plate 111, From Bosporus to Samarkand. Identified as Persian (?) Bag Face. Slit-tapestry weave and pile (Ghiordes knot)." John Wertime updayes the attribution as follows: Table cover (P. ru-korsi). North central Persia, Varamin area. |
And who already owned so many wonderful things? Almost all lived or had lived in or around New York, where they scoured 276 Fifth Avenue and environs for their treasures. Some names I recognized from the May 1968 issue of Fortune magazine (I still have it) which featured a story of several prominent American businessmen in their homes, surrounded by collectibles purportedly with investment attributes: oriental rugs. Among those pictured by Fortune was the ever-dapper Russ Pickering; on the wall next to him was the horse cover which now reappeared in Bosporus. On the cover of Bosporus was the same "beetle" soumac bag face that was at Dave Chapman's left elbow in the Fortune article. That cover illustration probably did more to influence my perspective on collecting than any other single photograph. The powerful, dynamic images of the beetle bag and its cousin, the cruciform medallion bag of McMullan's (#55), were like miniature Kazaks or bonsai oaks. In the jargon of the day, small was indeed beautiful.
A few years passed before I came to know some of these icons of the rug world personally: Russ Pickering, Harold Keshishian, Charlie Ellis, John Turner, Ernie Roberts, Arthur Jenkins, and Ralph Yohe. The collectors themselves invariably proved to be of the same caliber as their rugs.
While I missed the original exhibition, I have had the good fortune, over the years since then, to see almost half of the Bosporus pieces in the flesh. Some of them are among the most desirable textiles I have ever encountered. Of the thousands of flat-woven pieces to come out of the former Soviet Union recently, few can compare with the great examples in Bosporus. Obviously, the best came out early.
I will never forget the first time I saw Harold Keshishian's fine, sumptuous, boteh-filled soumac mafrash panel (#40) from the Bidjar area. Sitting on a couch in the living room of his farm during one of the TM's rug conventions, I marvelled at the exquisiteness of a piece I recognized instantly, having burned its inadequate black and white image into my mind. I still covet that piece. Harold has had it long enough.
While Bosporus was an influence on my buying and a constant source of reference, I have not yet owned a piece that was actually in the book. However, I can recall several close encounters of the just-missed kind.
I have always regretted not buying (or just not being able to buy) Dave Chapman's extra weft knotted wrapping khorjin (#62) when they were passing through Joe Fell's hands in Chicago. I have seen other pieces of similar construction and design, but none with such intensely saturated color. My friend John Wertime bought it.
Russ says that Chapman's beetle bag was chosen for the cover because: 1) everyone associated with the project liked it; 2) its squareness fit on the cover nicely; and 3) it would help to sell the book. It helped to sell my generation on flat-weaves. It inspired me; it bugged me. When Dave Chapman died, I failed (in what was probably a futile effort from the start) to buy that beetle bag from his widow, Eileen. Somehow it didn't seem right that I was living in Rock Island, Illinois, just 175 miles from Chicago where Chapman lived and yet Bill Price from Amarillo, Texas, managed to buy it and a number of other great pieces out from under me. Bill has had it long enough.
In addition to establishing aesthetic benchmarks for collectors, Bosporus provided us with a means of communication. We suddenly had reference points that enabled us to share information in this emerging phenomenon. For example, while I was in the process of acquiring an example related to the frontispiece (a Caucasian zili that was then referred to as Anatolian), I sought and received the advice and encouragement of its owner, Arthur Jenkins.
Another zili (#11), belonging to Inda Howland, absolutely captivated me. In February of 1977, I drove for three hours to attend an auction at Dunning's in the southern suburbs of Chicago. There was another of these spectacular Baku zilis, which had belonged to a member of the Studebaker family. Thanks to Bosporus, I knew the type, but so did the several dealers who were there. We exchanged a few comments about the relative merits of the one about to be auctioned versus those in Bosporus. The estimate was something like $900-$1,200, but I was determined to go to $2,500 or $3,000. Another one got away; a Swiss dealer paid $5,000 for it.
From the Bosporus to Samarkand was a herald of the rebirth of rug collecting, for which we should be ever thankful to Tony Landreau, Russ Pickering, Alan Sawyer (then the TM director), and The Textile Museum for their pioneering efforts. Along with McMullan's Islamic Carpets, Schürmann's Caucasian Rugs, and Eiland's Comprehensive Guide, it remains, in my opinion, one of the most influential works of our time.
Is its influence waning? Maybe. To be honest, I never think anymore about that wintery day in 1977 when I didn't get the zili that was arguably even better than Inda Howland's. I never think about it. Well, hardly ever.