Champfreau and Persian Carpets
I have just returned from a two month working trip to the Loire region of France for two American hosts, Steven Guderian and Bruce Riedner. Their vast property - Le Manoir de Champfreau consists of several guest houses, the interiors of which the subject of their own meticulous curation. Fine paintings, sculptures and prints adorn the walls and mantlepieces of each house, forming an ever-evolving display of their love for the visual arts. The result is an always interesting blend of chinoiserie and French Gothic. Bruce describes the effect as; “Pagan opulence with Byzantine colour” saying it’s “a distillation of years of looking” – referring to both his and Steven’s long-standing love for discovering treasures at the many markets local to them.
The numerous Persian rugs which lie throughout the buildings, often angled and overlapping, range in condition from near-immaculate to beautifully worn. They are the material result of a lifelong passion of Bruce’s, each with a story to tell I am sure. I found the ones that were slightly worn especially attractive; the disparate elements of their design seemed to hold together better and they suggest a richer, more storied life.
Above: Some of the many Persian carpets lying throughout the guest houses.
Often the word ‘carpet’ would be reserved for larger pieces but for clarity I’ll mention I’ve used both ‘carpet’ and ‘rug’ interchangeably throughout this post, irrespective of size.
‘Nomadic’ and ‘City Plan’ are the two distinct design classifications of Persian rugs, the former being cruder and more stylised. The ideas are conceived and developed by the weaver themselves as opposed to them following a pre-designed, commercially attractive plan. They represent the pure artform – inherently spontaneous and free from commercial influence.
Archaic and primitive design intrigues me to say the least and so I wanted to delve a bit deeper into one particular area of the Persian rug-making tradition. As you would expect, it’s a vast topic and a lot lies beyond the scope of this post but consider it a very brief introduction to a particular variety known as Gabbeh, native to the Fars province in southwest Iran.
Image: CarpetU2
Gabbeh Carpets
These differ from most traditional Persian carpets due to their simpler compositions and thicker pile. They are woven by nomadic women on horizontal looms (floor-mounted and thus easily dismantled). Hand spun wool yarn is boiled and dyed with various natural pigments (e.g. the red of pomegranate or yellow of the saffron flower). Sitting outside, the weaver gradually builds the rug by knotting the coloured wool to form motifs and patterns inspired by the mountains, the animals and the plant-life of their surroundings.
Larger carpets with higher knot-counts can take one person years to meticulously weave by hand and so command higher prices when they get to market. However, this is not to say the weaver sees much of it – they are routinely the lowest-paid person in the chain and their work is arduous. For these reasons it’s sadly a dying artform - younger generations have grown tired of their parent’s and grandparent’s skill being exploited and are less inclined to continue the tradition.
Gabbeh rugs became popular with European markets in the last quarter of the 20th century, partly thanks to renowned Iranian artist Parviz Tanavoli. He employed skilled nomadic weavers to translate his designs onto carpets (images of two from his Poet series are included below).
Many sub-categories of the Gabbeh carpet have emerged over the last 50-60 years with subtle but definite stylistic differences. Three are listed below;
Luribaft: More detailed designs and often made of softer wool
Kashkoli: Shorter pile but high knot density
Sumak: Flat-woven with a smooth top surface