LITMIR.BIZ

      DEFINITIONS.

      The first definition of a term is usually the technical definition within the field of oriental rug and textile studies. This is followed by more specific definitions or definitions of the term in general usage. For place names, the location is given first followed by a description of weavings of that area. For names of ethnic groups, the geographical location of the group or other identifying information is given first followed by a description of their weavings.

      TYPOGRAPHIC USAGE.

      Boldface is used for primary and secondary terms or cross-referenced terms defined or explained within an entry. Parentheses enclose the language of origin of the entries. Capitalized initial letters are used for proper nouns and terms that are usually capitalized. Quotation marks or parentheses enclose references to other entries and translations of foreign words. Italics present foreign words in the context of an entry, scientific Latin names, subheadings, and publication titles.

      TERMS FOR TEXTILE STRUCTURES.

      In defining terms for textile structures, the common meaning of the term is presented first. This is usually followed by a definition using the system of classifying and describing rug structures in The Primary Structure of Fabrics by Irene Emery or Woven Structures by Marla Mallet. The terms “asymmetric knot” and “symmetric knot” are used in describing structure of pile fabrics. These are not technically correct terms, but they are used because they are generally understood in rug studies. The terms “soumak” and “weft wrapping” are used in the absence of more specific information. There are many types of weft wrapping, but published descriptions rarely differentiate these types for flatweaves.

      Where structure or design information is given for rugs from a specific source, the structure or design is “average” or “typical,” unless otherwise noted. For a specific source, structural or design variation may be very great. For hand-knotted pile rugs, the pile is assumed to be wool unless otherwise noted.

      For any specific source of rug production, structural and technical details may change over time according to commercial demand. Generally, there is an historical trend from higher to lower knot densities, from wool to cotton foundation, and from vegetable to synthetic dyes.

      BIOGRAPHICAL DATA.

      Brief biographical sketches are included of deceased individuals who achieved international prominence in rug studies or through their association with oriental rugs. A lexicon is about language. This lexicon is about the language of oriental rugs. It is analytical in that it presents very specific terms for rug origins, structures, and designs. Examining the parts rather than the whole makes this book useful. However, the attraction, charm, and beauty of oriental rugs is not in the parts, but in the whole. Many oriental rugs and other weavings are works of art, from the narrowest to the grandest meaning of the word “art.” An analytical understanding of oriental rugs is ultimately justified by the experience of oriental rugs as art.

      Foreign Terms And Place Names by John R. Perry

      A good part of the confusion surrounding rug terminology stems from the variety of languages used by the weavers, sellers, buyers, and connoisseurs of this most cosmopolitan of products. Very few of the names for relevant peoples, places, techniques, and types are to be found consistently spelled in the literature. Much of this inconsistency reflects dialect differences or a clash of sound, writing, and transcription systems in the languages subsequently involved. Thus “alcatif,” “qtifa,” and “kadife” all go back to the same Arabic term for a pile or nap rug, independently processed through Portuguese, Moroccan/French, and Turkish.

      Some variants result simply from slips of the pen or typewriter. Many a sensible word has been turned into nonsense by the miswriting of u for n or b for h, or vice versa. Thus Murdschekar, Murchehkbur and Murcheh Khvort are all the same place to a Persian; it was a German (with a poor ear or a poor informant), a Frenchman (with poor eyesight or working from scribbled notes), and an Englishman (working from literary Persian) who carved “Murcheh Khurt” into such varied shapes.

      There are no universal systems of transcription (written representation of the sounds of words) or transliteration (representation of the written form of words in a different writing system). In a work of reference, pedantry must give way to conciseness and accuracy, which involves compromises. Wherever possible, first place has been given to a widely accepted form, whether rigorously transcribed or not. A few general observations must suffice here on the relations between the language systems that are encountered in this field, with a note where these systems typically break down. This will help the reader identify analogous spellings, read and pronounce an unfamiliar term with confidence, and recognize a variant of a familiar term, however outlandishly disguised.

      ARABIC-SCRIPT LANGUAGES AND THE WEST.

      From the eighth century, throughout most of the Near East, Central Asia, and north India, Arabic script was widely used for literary languages (including Arabic, Persian, western and eastern Turkish, and Urdu). The Arabic “alphabet” is deficient, in that it does not have characters for most vowels. It is particularly unsuited to representing the eight-vowel system of Turkic languages.

      Literacy was not—and still is not—widespread in rural and nomadic areas. Thus the early Western rug-collectors had little more than their ears to work with; and since these were attuned to English, French, German, or Russian sounds, the resulting transcriptions of native terms left much to be desired. All the more since the orthography of their own languages (particularly English and French) was—and still is — a chaos of historically conditioned letter-combinations. The final stage of confusion is reached when we try to interpret another’s transliterations in ignorance of the conventions of the original or an intermediate language.

      For example, the sound represented in English by j, as in judge (or by dge, of course!) also occurs commonly in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. It does not occur natively in French, German, or Russian, where it has to be represented by unfamiliar letter-combinations. Thus an Iranian of Central Asia, properly known in English as a “Tajik,” is in German Tadschik, in French tadjik, and in Russian appears with the same dj combination written in Cyrillic characters. Since it was through the Russians that the Western world was introduced to the peoples of Central Asia and the Caucasus, the Russian form was transliterated into English; and since there was no “French j” sound in English, the Russian letter following d was represented as zh—hence the “English” form Tadzhik, with three letters for the value of one. The same cycle of analysis and resynthesis of one sound produces the forms Azerbaidschan, Azerbaidjan, and Azerbaidzhan for “Azerbaijan.”

      Similarly, our perception of a Berber term from North Africa may have been filtered first through a local spoken form of Arabic and/or literary Arabic, then through written French (e.g. “Ouaouzquite,” to be pronounced approximately wa-ooz-keet). English itself is notorious for its spelling traps, as the tourist visiting Cirencester (sisister) or Godmanchester (gumster)

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