The Leading Antique
and Vintage Rug Company
since 1965
 
 
 

Blog

showing 91 - 105 of 190 post(s)
 

Antique Rug Placement

 
05-18-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Antique Rug Placement
Some people feel they would like to invest in an antique rug but are not sure what they should do with it once they have it- there is in fact a lot of strategy to do with where and how you place a Persian rug within the home and within a room.

    For example, how old and what condition the rug is in can play a role. If you've purchased a more delicate, fine Persian rug, you'll probably want to avoid placing it in an area with heavy foot traffic, like right in the entryway to your home or in the hallway. On the other hand, heavier, more sturdy rugs are perfect to make a big statement right as you walk into the house.  Check to see what kind of dyes were used in the production of the rug- vegetable-based dyes tend to do very well at resisting damage. ALso check the materials- a wool rug will obviously survive much better than silk. Keep in mind the main color involved- it's pretty self-explanatory, but it's easy to forget how easily a white or pale rug gets dirty.

Another important thing to think about is how the color goes with the rest of the room. You don't necessarily need to literally match colors, red for red, brown for brown.  And often times an intricate pattern of separate colors, at a distance, can look like a totally different colors. And many rugs will have a little bit of, like, fifteen colors in them, so it's more of the overall impression a tug makes that needs to go well with the room. Especially if you have more 'modern' furniture, you may want to think about getting a different kind of area rug.

And your rug doesn't necessarily have to go in the living room or entryway, either- kitchens and even bathrooms can work. If you have small children, though, it's not recommended- they spill a lot in kitchens and tend to be less neat in bathroom, which can lead to staining and ruining a tug.  Any rug you place in front of, say, the kitchen sink, should be a good, thick hardy wool rug that won't slip too much and can withstand a lot of wear and tear.
 

Persian Rugs and Genghis Khan

 
05-18-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Persian Rugs and Genghis Khan

In 1219, the Persian Empire was largely decimated by the brutal conquest of Genghis Khan. The Mongol invaders did not allow for the continuation of their traditional arts, including Persian rugs. It's postulated that throughout this era, making of now antique rugs was limited to nomads and indigenous tribes, and the royal courts lost many of their gorgeous old rugs.

Many cities were sacked and it's likely that many works of art were destroyed.  Mongols ruled in Persia for more than five centuries, embellishing their palaces wit ht he remaining Persian rugs. Eventually an opportunity arose for Persian nationals to reclaim their self-rule for the first time in centuries. Finally foreign tule was overthrown. Shah Ismail in the 1500s rove out the foreign occupiers and established the Savad dynasty.

This liberation led to a new fomentation of Persian art, including rugs. Shash Ismaeil helped to patronize this Renaissance of art throughout the land, paying for new rugs and decorations ofr the palace and establishing many art schools throughout the land. city craft centers became popular, and apprenticeships skyrocketed.

The ascension of the Safavid rulers ushered in the famous era of rug production that led Persia into the modern era as the mecca of rug production.
 

Antique Rugs of Europe

 
05-15-2011  |  By: Erica |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Antique Rugs of Europe
 

Persian Rug History of an Empire

 
05-13-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Persian Rug History of an Empire

In 1219, the Persian Empire was largely decimated by the brutal conquest of Genghis Khan. The Mongol invaders did not allow for the continuation of their traditional arts, including Persian rugs. It's postulated that throughout this era, making of now antique rugs was limited to nomads and indigenous tribes, and the royal courts lost many of their gorgeous old rugs.

Many cities were sacked and it's likely that many works of art were destroyed.  Mongols ruled in Persia for more than five centuries, embellishing their palaces wit ht he remaining Persian rugs. Eventually an opportunity arose for Persian nationals to reclaim their self-rule for the first time in centuries. Finally foreign tule was overthrown. Shah Ismail in the 1500s rove out the foreign occupiers and established the Savad dynasty.

This liberation led to a new fomentation of Persian art, including rugs. Shash Ismaeil helped to patronize this Renaissance of art throughout the land, paying for new rugs and decorations ofr the palace and establishing many art schools throughout the land. city craft centers became popular, and apprenticeships skyrocketed.

The ascension of the Safavid rulers ushered in the famous era of rug production that led Persia into the modern era as the mecca of rug production.
 

Sizes and Materials of Persian Rugs

 
05-12-2011  |  By: Erica |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Sizes and Materials of Persian Rugs

When you are deciding what kind of Persian rug or antique rug to buy, its important to keep many parameters in mind. The number of variables is almost overwhelming, btu thats what makes shopping for antique rugs so interesting.
Obviously the most immediately exciting aspect is the colors and patterns involved. Are you going to go for a nice blue, a bold red, a lush green and yellow pattern? otifs and the general aesthetic are also important.
Its pretty darn interesting how, as humans, we can all look through the many samples available, and almost instantaneously know what appeals to us and what doesnt. Even if we dont understand how or why we like what we like, or have much expertise on the subject.
One aspect of rug shopping that people forget to ponder over, though, is the kind of material that the rug in question is made out of. This kind of consideration can be almost equally important to what the rug looks like from a distance. It will dtermine the feel and spirit of your antique rug, in addition to the how long it will likely last, h much it will cost, and what kinds of rooms and places it will look the best in, and how often and thoroughly you will have to clean it in the future.
Natural materials tend to cost more than the moderner materials, but they look great. Wool is a fantastic choice because its super durable, resistant to pressure, and can be really quite soft.  Wool is also very easy to clean. Cotton is less sturdy, but softer.
Synthetic-made rugs tend to be cheaper. They last longer, and clean more easily and hold color very well. But it doesnt have that old world charm that natural wool and cotton do.
 

The Symbolism of Persian Rugs

 
05-06-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 

    The imagery woven into the patterns of Persian rugs has a deep and long history, representing faith, stories, and cultures.  Since  modern industrial production technology was created, the complexities od Persian and antique rugs has grown exponentially. But most or many of the basic patterns go back a very long way indeed, for centuries or even thousands of years.
    In the ancient days, simpleness versus complexity showed the craftsmanship, quality, and value that was in a rug. In today's market, for the most part, it more represents individual tastes of the consumer.
    At first glance, the intricate shapes on antique Persian rugs can look like just swirls, shapes, and blocks. But if you look more closely, you can begin to identify certain story-telling symbolic messages. Often times they are quite stylized, super-interpreted representations of the symbols, but they are there.
    For example, the lotus blossom often represents rebirth, immortality, and reincarnation, for its connections with Buddhism. Peacocks also have ties to immortality, and hyacinths can represent renewal. Trees may represent The Tree of Life, a symbol of a route from Earth to Heavan. Peonies usually stand for physical or political power, whereas tulips tend to signal monetary or emotional prosperity.
    Diamonds, although they may get worked in innocuously, may sometimes stand for women,  but pomegranates almost always represent fertility.
 

Antique Rugs in Space: Part 2

 
05-05-2011  |  By: Erica |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Hoshi Inazuma has experienced luxury, yes he has. He has experienced the entire range of experiences in his life, from abject, dirt poverty to living the life of an emperor god and back to the streets. There is nothing on this world, on any world, he hasn't tried.

Relativistic time dilation has been his friend. He's been alive for more than three thousand years and he can tell you the origin of the human race.

He once read a story about a little boy named Ender who grew into a thousand-year-old young man. He liked Ender. Thought he was kind of a pushover, though. Always trying to do the right thing, the moral thing, instead of the best thing.

What's life if you don't live it? What's even the point, though? People don't ask themselves that enough.

He doesn't tell people these things, though. He hasn't told anyone the life he led as a weaver of antique rugs on a work-colony planet out in the outskirts. He hasn't told people about his stint in the royal court of the Amari clan, where every surface of his bedroom was covered in thick Oushak rugs.

But it's there. Those experiences linger there, ready and waiting for him to call on them to build an accurate portrait. To play a character.

Acting, to some extent, is pretending. But who more accurately pretends to be on a boat when they're really on dry land: a sailor, or a hick from inland who's never seen the ocean?

Hoshi has muscle memory for a thousand different tasks. He can be a sheepherder's son and he can be a corporate lobbyist and he can weld and he can dance. And what he hasn't done himself, he's read about, during inter-system flights when decades passed and he spent a few months researching the next job.
 

Hard Work on Antique Rugs

 
05-02-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Hard Work on Antique Rugs
Imagine this scene, if you care to:

A workshop. A large stone and brick and straw building, no windows. Maybe a few open doors. Dust motes swirling in the late afternoon sunlight that shafts in from the single open door. The smell of cloth, and of sweat, is cloying, inescapable. The heat is suppressing, stupefying, deadening. Hair is limp, clothes are pushed back and rolled up and tied back. Eyelids droop, but fingers fly. The room is dark in the corners but the sound of the looms is deafening.

Tensions are high. Sweat dons brows. Everyone feels an unpleasant flush on their cheeks, a sting on their backs, the frustrating feeling of damp sweaty clothes. Maybe desk partners don't get along. Maybe one worker has a thing for his neighbor's wife. Maybe the person in charge is an unreasonable jerk. Maybe someone's singing a song, to pass the time, voice carrying over the sounds of hands weaving, or looms and spinning and knotting.

This is an old antique rug production station. Of course, the production of rugs has changed over the millennia, but the fact of the matter is, a hand-woven rug takes decades of man-hours to produce. Every fiber must be spun, every thread must be woven and knotted into the tapestry with perfect precision. The geometric shapes of classic Persian rugs takes a brightness of dye and a precision of eye that seems machine like, but was invented thousands of years before the industrial revolution.

And even though now, many rugs are produced on mechanized looms instead of by hand, that legacy carries on. When one gazes into the complex patterns, when one looks at the storytelling going on in a carpet or a rug, one is gazing into hours and hours of work, into blood and sweat and triumph and frustration.
 

Chaos and Old Rugs in Tehran

 
04-29-2011  |  By: Erica |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Chaos and Old Rugs in Tehran
After rounds out in the city of Tehran, Jamison is upset. Priceless old rugs, antique rugs, have been damaged. Museums have been looted. People have been shot. Jamison takes some shrapnel to the shoulder (no big hes okay), Cole pushes him into a munitions closet like theres an explosion. Hes not cool, hes angry. Hes up close, his eyes are wide, hes breathing like he sprinted here.
This is not what I was trained for, Lieutenant. This peacekeeping is not what I am supposed to be doing. I was made to create violence, not prevent it, I cannot attempt to sympathize, I cannot, I want to- I want to level this place, Jamison hears. Agrees.
 Its okay. Good news. Bravos not going out on rounds tonight, or for the rest of the tour. Im going with Charlie company.
 Cole grabs the front of Jamisons jacket. Do not.
Excuse me, Sergeant? We have our orders. And good. Jamisons sick of sending his men out into the streets in the dead of night to get shot at for no reason. Sick of being helpless to keep them safe because commands not on the ground, doesnt understand the conditions.
No, Lieutenant. I you must not. You might get injured.
Jamison laughs hard like M-6 rounds. I might get injured? Its a war, Sergeant. Cole is taller than him and broader than him and older than him and Jamison cant believe what hes hearing.
Then I will volunteer to accompany Charlie-
Are you out of your mind?
You know as well as I that these missions are inefficient in the extreme, Lieutenant, I refuse to allow you to-
Are you listening to yourself, I cant just-
-the moment I let you out of my sight you find a way to get shot at-
 What, Patrick? Get yourself on lock or-
Cole finally rears back and punches the space to the left of Jamisons head, sends boxes of bullets flying, knocks Jamison back into the shelves.
I cannot!
They go silent a moment, the insubordination dwarfed by the sheer impossibility of this outburst from iceman Harvard.
Patrick, Jamison says, and gently grasps Coles arms where hes holding his jacket because maybe this was supposed to be a fight, maybe Cole wanted him to take a swing but all he can think is that his point man is unraveling and he needs to keep him together. Cant do it without him.
 I apologize. I simply. I find it difficult, Lieutenant. He struggles for a moment, puts his hands back on the front of Jamisons flak jacket.
You make things difficult, Nate, Cole finally says, puts his forehead to Jamisons shoulder, right next to where he took the shrapnel.
I know, Jamison says. Puts a hand on his point mans head, tries through force of will to keep all the brains in the seams of that skull. For two minutes in a storage closet in the middle of hundreds of marines in the middle of Baghdad, Lieutenant Nate Jamison keeps his point man stitched together.
 

Journal of a Oriental Rug Maker

 
04-22-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Journal of a Oriental Rug Maker
This is a passage found in a journal written by a swordman and an oriental rug maker's apprentice:



My cautiously built wall is so fragile and thin not at all the strong fortress of truth, self-understanding and peace I seek, desire. I can hardly block my dark thoughts, the evil memories and the drumming of old sayings that I have never managed to purge from my mind.

The strong live and the weak die.

I barely contain inside of myself my own emotions. My smile, my ever-present mask, is no longer the salvation I once believed it to be, the cage I had sealed all of my own guilt, confusion and pain within. Designed only to fool others, and it was effective in its purpose. But now...there is nothing can save me from my internal ache, my suffering.

 I never wanted to
Oh but I did, didnt I?

     Day to day, month after month, walking, wandering, an endless cycle. Never have I come close to even the slightest bit of deliverance from this insanity, my journey all the more futile as I continue. I drag myself from village to village forest to forest. Never even setting a steady pace of footsteps, unable to steady even the simplest of motions.
    
Why didnt you save me?
Where were you then?
The strong survive, and the weak die.
But thats not true. The strong must protect the weak?
Maybe thats true.
But its not my truth.
 
 
Where is the truth? Where is the peace, the acceptance? Where is the relief from the ache in my heart, the turmoil of my mind? Looking inward, I know that the constant thing, the only steady beat, rhythm, stable wall, is one, not of comfort, but of my past, my masters teachings, my own thoughtless slaughters. The ever-present reminder of my past torture, past upbringing.
 

Antique Rugs in Family Drama

 
04-21-2011  |  By: Erica |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Antique Rugs in Family Drama
   And what are you doing up at this ungodly hour?
    Sally dropped her boot in surprise, and it made a hollow tap on the hardwood floor, flopped over onto the old rug. A soft, dry chuckle sang in her ears.
    Couldnt sleep, She said shortly, but not unkindly.
He didnt respond. Didnt have to. He just stood behind the new couch and watched quietly as she finished bundling up. She slipped her white gloves over her clammy hands and sat back, exhaling.
You sound tired. His voice was not pitying, but tired in itself. She nodded, but didnt turn around. Instead, she pulled a white knitted hat over her wildfire hair, gently smothering it.
She stood up to face him, and gave him a dampened smile. He didnt smile back.  
Ill just be outside for a few minuets. Not past the gates, She said, like she was fifteen again.
He tilted his head to the side and gestured to himself, and when she gave him a quick nod of assent, he reached for his own boots and jacket, fallen amongst the others scattered across the worn antique rug.  
She didnt wait for him. The door clicked shut behind her, and she made her way through the frigid air to the bench under the tree. The world around her was black, but for the circle of white where her cell phone lit the way.
Her bench was entirely unremarkable: not an ancient thing of beauty, nor decrepit enough to be interesting, but shed been sitting in it for years. Shed had, if not her first, then many subsequent kisses while perched there. Shed sniffled and pretended not to cry there, had late night phone conversations, bathed in the sun.
It was as familiar to her as her childhood room, and it still stood while the rest of the house had been remodeled when she moved out.
She didnt sit, but instead slowly brushed the snow from the arm rest, the wet seeping through her cotton gloves and numbing her fingers. She stared at the flakes she held on her fingertips, her eyes wavering in and out of focus. She brought the white to her lips just as the crunch of boots arrived.
She watched him watch her eat the fresh snow, and she smiled slightly, holding out another taste for him. He didnt take it. She lowered her hand and looked at him for the first time since their mothers funeral.
His hair stood out stark against the white without a cap to cover it, and his face glowed pale like a little boy. She suddenly felt like crying, felt the build behind her eyes and in her nose.
He inhaled to speak, wearing the expression he always wore when he was about to say something that would hurt.  
Hey, Sally? I-
She shushed him quietly, then brushed off the rest of the snow on the seat with her sleeve. She gestured for him to take a seat. He did.
They sat together in the silence, their cloudy breaths mingling, spreading through the clear air like frosty mist. The white speckled their clothes like magic dust, and Sally pulled off her cap so her hair could be sprinkled, too, like dewdrops on a rose.
She said, Lets never talk about it, and he didnt argue.
Simultaneously, they lifted their faces to avoid each others, and let the snowflakes perch on their lashes.



 

Old Rugs in a New Age

 
04-15-2011  |  By: ESP |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
All about old rugs and their place in our new world
 

Oriental Rugs in Japan III

 
04-13-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Oriental Rugs in Japan III
Immediately he strode all the way back to the town and asked after the boy with the village constable.
    What boy? We havent had so much as a stray cat.
    Piko spun and sprinted down the road with the unnatural speed of a master of the Hiten Mitsurugi, lungs gasping for the first time in years. But when he got there, the dead bodies were gone, the boy was gone, dirt had been tossed over the blood. His heart lurched harder than it ever had before. There, in a clearing:
Crosses. Bamboo tied together over mounds of earth.  The boy stood before a cross with beads around it, and an old oriental rug lain before it. He didnt turn around as Piko stood behind him. Piko gazed down at the head of shining light hair, the tiny, filthy hands. Had he dug seven graves himself?
    You made graves for the robbers as well as your family?
    They werent my family. They were slavers.  But now theyre just bodies.
    And who is that? Piko waved at the beads.
    Sakura. From the brothel. I wanted to find her flowers, but he shed trembling little-boy tears, its n-not spring anymore, but he stood tall and straight.
    What is your name, boy?
    He finally looked up at the swordmaster. Haruto Sorame. Sir. His eyes were like the morning sky.
    Sorame is too soft for a swordsman. You will be Ryuken.
    Dragon sword, he breathed, eyes lighting, sounding like a child for the first time.     
    You will be my apprentice. But never forget this, your first lesson. He put a hand on the kids head, the sun finally lifted fully over the knife-edge of the horizon. A sword is a weapon. Kenjutsu is the art of killing.
   
 

Oriental Rugs in Japan II

 
04-11-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Oriental Rugs in Japan II
    Piko Seijiro was the twelfth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style and found killing men easy. Especially in the early autumn when the moonrise was orange and made his sake taste better. Piko traveled all along the Tokkaido, watching seasons change, and everything else staying the same: men killed each other, women cried.  And one night in early autumn, Piko came upon a ring of highway raiders laughing uproariously at the little boy between them, trying to lift a man-sized katana to defend himself.
    Piko slaughtered the men with a few easy slices. He said to the boy, wiping the red out of the dragon engraving on his katana: do not linger, but rejoice that you have survived. And then he walked away. He vaguely wondered, as he passed through the flickering moonshadows of trees, taking a pull of his jug of sake, if the boy would find refuge in the village down the road. But he didnt really care one way or the other. Was protecting the weak good karma, if Piko didnt feel anything?  Could he really stop killing by killing? Should he even try? Maybe hed be reborn as a dragonfly.
    That night,  Piko went home and stretched out on his meditation oriental rug and willed himself to sleep, he dreamt for the first time in years. He saw, painted on his lids, a golden sun in a dark night sky. Millions of small red sakura petals, crushed and seeping under his feet. Sails, and old rugs, and: a sky-blue dragon, hanging silently in the air above him. The dragon opened its fangs wide, and swallowed the bright sun, smoke curling from its nostrils. It glowed blue like a glass lantern, lit from within. Its snout was crossed with red flames. Sensei, it said. Master.
    No, I dont know anything, I cant be a teacher.
    Piko looked down and saw his muscles withering, his wide chest shrinking, his long hair graying.  His hands seemed to melt where they clutched his sword. The dragon breathed over him, and everything went white.
    He jolted awake. If he were a lesser man, hed be gasping.
 

Ancient Legends Depicted on Rugs

 
04-07-2011  |  By: Azaad |  (0) Post comment »  |  Read comments »
 
Ancient Legends Depicted on Rugs
   This is a legend that is often represented on antique rugs, especially really old rugs.

It was the first winter in the world, and all of the animals in the forest saw their first snow.
    Oh, its all white and fluffy! Said Rabbit.
    But after a while First Winter stopped seeming magical and started seeming cold. It was cold all day every day, and Sun hardly ever came out. Soon, all the creatures in the forest might be buried in the snow.
    Wise Owl came up with a plan.
    We must send a messenger to the Sun Spirit, so that he will send us a part of himself to keep, and ward off the Winter Spirit. Someone must step forward to do this.  He held out a stick with his claws.
    Well, I cant go, Turtle said. I am far too slow. We would all freeze!
    I certainly cannot go, said Wolf. For Sun Spirit would not believe my cries.
    Finally, the most beautiful of the birds stepped forward, his feathers shining all the colors of the rainbow. His bright, melodious voice rang out: I, Rainbow Crow, shall go.
    It was a long journey, three days up into the sky. Rainbow crow carried the stick above trees and clouds, past the Spirit of the West Wing and the Spirit of the North Wind, past the stars. When he reached the holy home of the Sun Spirit, he was nearly blinded with its glory, and he opened his beak to deliver the most beautiful song in the world.
    With what shall I reward this serenade? Asked Sun.
    Please, Sun Spirit, I  ask for a piece of you to bring to the land and save the forest.
    As he finished his request, the end of his stick burst into flames.  It was the hottest thing Rainbow Crow had ever felt.
    Now fly, said Sun, before it burns out.
    As Rainbow Crow flew home, the fire drew closer and closer to him. It billowed hot smoke into his lungs, threw soot onto his wings. The heat made his eyes sting. By the time he descended from the sky back to Earth, Rainbow Crows feathers were all black, and his voice was left an ugly caw.
    I have brought you fire, he croaked. For keeping warm.  All the animals in the forest rejoiced.
    And when Man came to the forest, he never hunted Crow, for his flesh tasted of soot and his voice was not worth caging. But if you look closely, when the sun shines on the feathers of a crow, you can see all the colors in the rainbow reflected on their surface.

 

 
« previous | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7| 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 next »