Threads of History Underfoot: The Armenian Carpet

With the help of both ChatGPT and Copilot along with my interest in and earlier studies of ‘Oriental carpets’, I present this likely Armenian Lori-Pambak Carpet from circa 1910–1930. The region of this rug’s origin is in the mountains of the South Caucasus.

This heavy handwoven carpet, measuring 6’2” × 9’, carries the quiet weight of history, both in and of its own provenance and in my acquisition.

I discovered this piece in Singapore, not in an auction or carpet shop, but through a Facebook buy-and-sell page. For many years I’ve been immersing myself in traditional material cultures, studying artifacts and textiles with growing reverence. I’ve been interested in carpets and trad textiles since university and have a few in my modest collection. When I saw the listing for this one — $500 Singapore dollars for a “used rug” — something stirred. I suspected it could be a steal.

The sellers were an elderly Chinese couple living in an HDB estate. Their home was modest, their demeanor kind. They didn’t know much about the rug’s origin — and they didn’t share whether it had been in their possession for years, or possibly acquired through a pawn or passed down without ceremony. As I inspected the piece, its design spoke louder than any origin document could. I knew I was holding something special. The vivid colours and various motifs struck me as particular to the Middle East, and the apparent crosses on rooftops led me to suspect it was Armenian.

Once I got it home via taxi, I had a chance to learn more about it.

The rug’s design is a woven prayer (though it isn’t a prayer carpet, per se). At its center lies a large yellow diamond with a red ‘heart’ form — a sunburst medallion symbolizing divine light, eternity, and protection surrounding the personal element —- in what might be a symbol to ward off evil. This is, according to online sources, the weaver’s symbolic signature, echoing both Christian and pre-Christian Caucasian symbolism.

A vertical vine — a simple Tree of Life — runs through the central field, linking earth to heaven, mortality to salvation. In the red field sit multiple triangular motifs resembling church roofs with crosses on top, offering sacred shelter and spiritual guardianship. The ‘trees’ on opposite sides of the gold medallion include petaled flowers.

The outer border is also rich with symbols: rosettes, ram’s horns, and vine leaves, and it forms a protective fence around this symbolic universe.

According to ChatGPT, the colors, too, carry meaning:

Red for vitality and spiritual defense

Yellow for sunlight and joy

Green for fertility and paradise

Blue for faith and eternity

Woven in the South Caucasus — likely in an Armenian or Georgian Christian village within the Lori-Pambak region — it embodies a sacred geometry of faith, protection, and continuity. Its construction features symmetrical Turkish (Ghiordes) knots, a wool warp and weft, and naturally dyed wool pile — all hallmarks of tribal craftsmanship from the late 19th and early 20th century.

Now, this carpet lives in Bohol — threads of history underfoot, bridging continents and centuries. It’s much more than a decorative piece for us. It’s the story of a typical Saturday morning in Singapore, with me and the girls going off on an adventure to see if Daddy’s hunch that there was a bargain awaiting us could prove right.

The rug is also a testament to the enduring power of craft, faith, and quiet migration. From the highlands of the Caucasus to a long period of residence in, first, colonial Malaya (maybe in the home of an Armenian immigrant family), then in a Singaporean Chinese home, and finally into the Blackstone residence. And now here, on a tiled floor in our home in Bohol, the carpet continues to speak.