The Azerbaijan Carpet

Liatif Kerimov. He was a wiry man, almost gaunt, and appeared to be very much at ease behind his desk. He wore a business suit, enlivened with a Shahsavan flatwoven necktie.

The value of the plates is considerable, since they reflect the field research undertaken by the Soviet scholars. But where Soviet territory ends, some doubts may be entertained. For example, under the heading "Tabriz" one may see a Senneh kilim (no. 126) and a Khurasan khali (no. 127). The "Gyanja" rug (no. 73) could upon reflection be called Kalardasht. The "Zakatali Shirvan" (no. 55) would surely be labeled Qarabagh kilim.3 And what self-respecting auction house would not list the "Karabagh kilim" (no. 151) as Central Anatolian? These rugs may have found their way into Soviet collections, but their identification begs additional sceptical review.

Rug research commences with a sound classification system. Kerimov's system has been of great interest since its introduction (The Azerbaijan Carpet, Volume I, Baku-Leningrad 1961). It has been republished several times as follows:

Item: Hali, 3/2, 1980, pp.27-30, in English;
Item: Kerimov,The Azerbaijan Carpet, Volume II, , 1983, . opp. p. 204 in Russian and opp. p. 226 in English, both in diagrammatic format;
Item: Kerimov (et. al.), Rugs and Carpets From the Caucasus, 1984, pp. 18-20, in English;
Item: Kerimov,The Azerbaijan Carpet (1985 , pp. 228-229.

As presented here, some changes are evident. Names have been dropped; others that appear as captions for the plates do not appear in any of these indices. One could wish that the system were less awkward. Names for places (villages, steppes, mountains), tribes, designs, and weaves are used together and can be confusing. Names for categories are also employed for subdivisions of the same category. Many names exist only in a disembodied state, no picture nor description having ever been published to give them form. Some clarification would certainly improve this system's usefulness.

Prof. Kerimov's first book, The Azerbaijan Carpet, Volume I, , was published in 1961. In December of 1971 I met with him in Baku, at the University where he occupied the Chair of the Department of Decorative Arts. He was a wiry man, almost gaunt, and appeared to be very much at ease behind his desk. He wore a business suit, enlivened with a Shahsavan flatwoven necktie, which I endeavored to ignore. As he spoke, he doodled eslimi (arabesques) on the notepad before him. His opening words to me were, "Greetings, you are my first American. What do they know about me in America?" Without hesitation I replied, "We know only that there is a very large book with your name upon it."4 He continued cautiously, offering commonplace information. I responded that I had read his book and that I had come hoping to learn more from him. "When will the second volume you promised be published?" It is at the publishers now," he assured me. He advised me that many mistakes concerning Azerbaijan carpets were believed by Western authorities. I acknowledged this and assured him that a better understanding was an important reason for my visit. He handed me a photograph of himself with a rug backdrop. I glanced at it momentarily and returned it, commenting "Qarabagh." He said, "Liampa Qarabagh." I acknowledged Liampa Qarabagh. Finally, with a look of perplexity mixed with exasperation, he demanded, "Show me your mind!" I nodded acquiescence, for this gambit I accepted.

"In the West," I began, "we have beauty contests.5 Fine ladies compete, and sooner or later one wins. These are pleasant to behold but must not be mistaken for a proper study of women." Then, pointing to his bookshelves, where he had a good selection of the large, old rug books, I continued. "Similarly, the carpets shown in those books are beauty contest winners -- and I include those designs of your own! But if we are to learn about rugs, we must study the more modest production of the people, as you have." He smiled understandingly, and we proceeded to enjoy two full days of exhilarating and enlightening discussions. Here is some more of what I recall.

He showed me a catalog of rugs he had received from America and asked, "Why do you call these "apartment carpets?" Bafflement yielded to perception when I correctly surmised that he had used the Oxford dictionary to define the word flat6 He asked what was meant by our term reverse soumak. I explained that the weaver chose which soumak surface would be free of loose or brocading threads. When that choice favored the pointilist over the more common herringbone surface, we described it as reverse.

He informed me of a new pile knot he had discovered. I placed my two elbows firmly on his desk, forearms erect, with my 10 fingers aligned warp-fashion. "Show me," I said. He laughed and, with a bit of string from his desk, he illustrated a strange knot -- but on the fingers of his young associate, Kubra Alyeva. "Why didn't you publish this knot in your book?" I inquired. He replied that he was planning to do so.

I found an opportunity and introduced a topic much on my mind. Using illustrations from his own book, I proposed that all of the borders and field of the"Pazyryk pile rug could be found on I9th century Azerbaijan carpets. He responded by ceremoniously opening his desk drawer and withdrawing a small swatch of rug. It was carefully sandwiched between layers of glass, and he handed it to me. This was my first opportunity to view the backside of the Pazyryk.7 After scrutinizing this priceless fragment for what must have been an excessive period, there developed between us some doubt as to whether I would return it; but, to his evident relief, I did. I asked him, archly, "How do you come to have this? Glancing slyly at Kubra, he replied, "When the archeologist Rudenko discovered the Pazyryk rug, he invited me to visit and confer with him. When I arrived, it was late and there was much excitement, for they had just found in the tomb a jug of wine. We decided right then to sample the contents. The wine was excellent, so we finished it all. The next day we were in no condition to discuss rugs, so he gave me this small piece to analyze and report on."8

The Soviet Union has earned a reputation for gastronomical austerity. Yet, certain indulgences are provided, should you occupy a Chair in Baku. For tea he served confections befitting the Arabian Nights. Sesame, nuts, and honey were blended into a magical ambrosia. I was transported.

But the climax of my visit occurred when he presented me with two valuable rugs from his personal collection. To insure that they would pass Soviet Customs, he provided me with an appropriate letter for the officials. He described the khorjin (double bag) as Kazak, circa 1900. It was designed to be carried to and from market by people, not beasts, thus a shopping bag (cp. The Azerbaijan Carpet, Volume I, plate 238 #3). The smaller piece he described as a "spoon bag" (for wooden kitchen utensils) made in the Baku region. He acquired it from an elderly woman who attributed its manufacture to her mother. They "put their heads together" and concluded that it was 200 years old.9

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