I love the red color of this kilim. Turkisk I bet, powerful with only four colors. Yellow and white or rose have faded, not the brown. The warp is cotton, the weft seems hand spun wool, thick and shiny. The kilim shows some repairs, and at some places the warp is visible. In their book, Ahmet Diler and Marc-Antoine Gallice decribe the design as scorpio, they say that people appropriate the strength of this animal they fear. I often think of the work of women I don’t know, dyeing, spinning, weaving, repairing.
J’adore le rouge de ce kilim à motif de scorpion. La laine a été filée à la main.
Tissagerie 
What are those vertical lines in the red on each side of every two scorpions? Are they an interlock? Or was it woven in thinner strips and sewn together?
I’ve often wondered why things that are old have a certain beauty to them. I figure that as things age, the patina that affects the whole thing creates a color harmony by adding a similar color/texture across the whole piece. But now I also think you have described another aspect to this beauty — the human history that has gone into it, including the wear and repairs, creates a kind of poetry in one’s imagination.
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This kilim was made in three parts that were sewn together. I think not all old things are beautiful. Those which are reflect the attention the maker gave to them. For me, it’s not patina which I admire, but the skilled dyer who reached this beautiful color, the skilled weaver , and also the great designer of this simple and powerful rug, all in one forever unknown person.
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