"Holbein" Rugs

What is this remarkable object? It's a seventeenth-century Turkish rug that now resides in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It's of a type called a "Holbein."  And just why, pray tell, should a class of rugs be named after a sixteenth-century German painter? Was Holbein a closet weaver? Or an importer of rugs?  No. The answer is that rugs of this sort appear prominently in paintings by Holbein, and, inasmuch as textiles deteriorate more rapidly than oil paintings, much more is known about early Turkish rugs from their representation in European art than from the bits and fragments that have managed to survive. Hence "Holbein."

It may be not be easy to see in the picture (rugs need to be seen and handled in person) but on closer inspection, it's clear that there's a repeating geometric pattern in the field within the rug's borders.  That pattern is the hallmark of the "Holbein" rug.

Look again at Holbein's best-known picture, "The Ambassadors."

 
The canvas is loaded with realistic and iconographic detail, and, moreover, it's easy to be transfixed by the floating magic-realism-ish anamorphic death's head that dominates the bottom quarter of the canvas. But look, on the table, under the very up-to-date scientific instruments, a Turkish rug!  Look again.

 
The rug that's depicted is comprised a series of squares of which the right side of one and the left side of the other are clearly visible.  It's a very handsome "Holbein." 

There's an even clearer example in Holbein's "Darmstadt Madonna." 
There it is, in its full anachronistic glory -- a lovely example of a "Turkey carpet" enriching the very  bottom of the picture.  The repeating geometric pattern is fully revealed.  It's not the same rug as the one in the "Ambassadors" portrait, but it's clearly in the same style.  

"Holbein" rugs don't just appear in Holbeins.  There's a great example in Andrea del Verrocchio's "Madonna with john the Baptist and Donatus" (c. 1480).

 
A sixteenth-century Turkish rug right at the feet of the madonna and child. Anachronisticissimus.   

I pause here for a bit of autobiography. in the summer of 1968, Mrs. Dr. Metablog, struck by a sudden infatuation, bid for and won at a country auction in rural Vermont a small geometric ( 4' x 5') rug. It's been with us now these forty years and  has been a constant source of visual pleasure. No, it's not a Holbein, but it's in the same phylum. it's a Konakghend prayer rug, perhaps dating from the late nineteenth century, and like many Kuba or Shirvan rugs, it's geometrical (rather than swirly or floral) in design. Something like a "Holbein" but not quite. I would love to have a "Holbein" on one of my otherwise blank walls. There's something mighty intriguing and suggestive about their cross-cultural links. But in the matter of antique rugs (as in other areas of art), my taste is infinitely in advance of my wallet. Instead of purchasing, we gratify our enthusiasm for rugs by going to exhibits, visiting the museums (including the almost unknown Textile Museum in DC), wandering into the better rug stores (NOT the ones that are declaring bankruptcy and in which EVERYTHING is now 70-80% off) where we pretend to be wealthy, and we study the rug books. Let me testify: "oriental" rugs are one of the great, great, great art forms.

Are genuine "Holbeins" still available?  (I mean old Turkish ones, not new sweatshop or machine made jobbies from India or China.)  Here's one that was recently sold on Ebay.

 
It's a mid-nineteenth-century beauty and, to judge from the picture, in remarkably fine shape for its age. It's described as a "Yuntdag," which is a region in West Anatolia. If I had the cash or even the credit, I'd jump on it. And then I would let a photographer take my picture while I pose in front of it, and by doing so connect myself to Holbein and Verrocchio-- to the aesthetic part of the tradition, that is, not to the Virgin part.

 

 

Comments

[Bernice]

I, too, have a passion for oriental rugs and have several all around the house. I am very happy with my latest, an unusual dark green pattern. I know nothing about provenance or value. I bought a prayer rug at an auction for $60;I'll take a photo of it for you.

Thanks for writing about rugs; you've widened my pleasure in them.