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Weaving and warfare
War rugs from Afghanistan at Penn Museum
Political art is always with us, but we never expect to encounter it in Oriental rugs. They reflect another world, more tranquil and harmonious. Or at least they used to.
All that has changed, to judge by the Penn Museum's current exhibition of more than 60 rugs from Afghan weavers. The women who weaved the rugs on display might be illiterate, but in a land where deadly war machines have ravaged their country for the past 32 years, what did we expect— moonlight and roses?
"Battleground: War Rugs from Afghanistan, " organized by the Toronto collector Max Allen, transforms our definition of Oriental rugs. They're no longer an escapist pleasure. The reality— the Russian invasion of the 1980s, the Taliban, civil war and then the invasion of NATO forces led by the U.S.— is there for everyone to see. This is a fascinating and strangely diverse exhibition with shocking, socio-political enlightenment.
Deadly land mines
Most of the rugs on display were created by refugees after the Russian invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. They illustrate a landscape cluttered with abandoned tanks, rusted rifles and armed helicopters, not to mention the infamous butterfly landmines that maimed so many children and adults. Those mines, with their brilliant, shiny red-and-green centers, are especially attractive to children playing in open fields; the slightest pressure causes them to explode, maiming the victim for life.
(The 1997 Ottawa Treaty, which banned all personal landmines, was signed by 158 nations; the 37 non-signers included the U.S., Russia, China and India. In America's case, our one million landmines along Korea's Demilitarized Zone are valued as a deterrent against a North Korean attack.)
English lettering
The rug designs change through the decades. Traditional patterns incorporating flattened shapes of military objects into the overall compositions evolve into more overt images of the human victims, illustrated in full color detail in several of the rugs.
As the decades evolve, the rugs begin to incorporate rulers' portraits, skyscrapers, lettering in fractured English and geographic outlines of Afghanistan. In other words, they're oriented toward the marketplace and they reflect images familiar to the weavers' lives, just as in the distant past. The difference is that these weavers can't recall a peaceful era of daily life.
Some of the most recent rugs seem to be copies of political posters. Although they're of lesser quality, these are said to be the sort of souvenirs brought home by returning veterans.
Who profits?
Although their subject matter may have changed, the rugs are still tediously woven by hand, a slow process requiring 12 hours to weave a single square foot. And as in the past, it's the dealers rather than the weavers who make the money from these rugs.
To put the rugs in context, silent black-and-white films of military action, the community market and daily Afghan life flash in the four lunettes above the gallery walls, creating an eerie effect that's too real for comfort. If you remember one thing from this exhibit, it's this advice: Never touch anything on the ground that resembles a butterfly.
All that has changed, to judge by the Penn Museum's current exhibition of more than 60 rugs from Afghan weavers. The women who weaved the rugs on display might be illiterate, but in a land where deadly war machines have ravaged their country for the past 32 years, what did we expect— moonlight and roses?
"Battleground: War Rugs from Afghanistan, " organized by the Toronto collector Max Allen, transforms our definition of Oriental rugs. They're no longer an escapist pleasure. The reality— the Russian invasion of the 1980s, the Taliban, civil war and then the invasion of NATO forces led by the U.S.— is there for everyone to see. This is a fascinating and strangely diverse exhibition with shocking, socio-political enlightenment.
Deadly land mines
Most of the rugs on display were created by refugees after the Russian invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. They illustrate a landscape cluttered with abandoned tanks, rusted rifles and armed helicopters, not to mention the infamous butterfly landmines that maimed so many children and adults. Those mines, with their brilliant, shiny red-and-green centers, are especially attractive to children playing in open fields; the slightest pressure causes them to explode, maiming the victim for life.
(The 1997 Ottawa Treaty, which banned all personal landmines, was signed by 158 nations; the 37 non-signers included the U.S., Russia, China and India. In America's case, our one million landmines along Korea's Demilitarized Zone are valued as a deterrent against a North Korean attack.)
English lettering
The rug designs change through the decades. Traditional patterns incorporating flattened shapes of military objects into the overall compositions evolve into more overt images of the human victims, illustrated in full color detail in several of the rugs.
As the decades evolve, the rugs begin to incorporate rulers' portraits, skyscrapers, lettering in fractured English and geographic outlines of Afghanistan. In other words, they're oriented toward the marketplace and they reflect images familiar to the weavers' lives, just as in the distant past. The difference is that these weavers can't recall a peaceful era of daily life.
Some of the most recent rugs seem to be copies of political posters. Although they're of lesser quality, these are said to be the sort of souvenirs brought home by returning veterans.
Who profits?
Although their subject matter may have changed, the rugs are still tediously woven by hand, a slow process requiring 12 hours to weave a single square foot. And as in the past, it's the dealers rather than the weavers who make the money from these rugs.
To put the rugs in context, silent black-and-white films of military action, the community market and daily Afghan life flash in the four lunettes above the gallery walls, creating an eerie effect that's too real for comfort. If you remember one thing from this exhibit, it's this advice: Never touch anything on the ground that resembles a butterfly.
What, When, Where
“Battleground: War Rugs from Afghanistan.†Through July 31, 2011 at the University of Pennsylvania Museum, 3260 South St. (215) 898-4000 or www.penn.museum.
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