The ancestral son of an influential Iranian nomadic tribe leader, Taher Asad-Bakhtiari, has delved into the fading craft of tribal carpet weaving and is reinventing it to keep its relevance alive and thriving. Here, Asad-Bakhtiari speaks to Caterina Minthe on his intimate tribal influences and his deep-rooted desire to renew an ancient craft.
ON HIS TRIBAL ORIGINS AND INFLUENCES
I was born in Tehran and I grew up in quite a crazy family. My dad comes from a known tribal family [led by Ali-Qoli Khan Bakhtiari] and my mom’s great aunt is Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian who is a famed artist—she does mirror ceramics. Ever since I was little, I’ve been surrounded with tribal and artistic impressions. People would bring suitcases of tribal pieces to the house, and we could choose what we wanted.
ON HIS HUNT FOR NOMADIC TREASURE
I am always drawn to handcrafted jackets. They are beautifully sewn and feature money, medals, and jewelry. The nomadic tribes would mix and match everything, and it is just stunning to see—from the metallic colors, to the wools and silks, and all the different fabrics that were used. I still hunt these treasures today, even though the present-day pieces are created differently. It’s the past creations that are the most precious—when you go to buy them, people will say, “These are from back in the day.”
ON TURNING TO CRAFT
I studied hotel management in Switzerland and I was really drawn to creating an ambiance. Slowly, I started making my own products that I felt represented me. Then, I started working with craftsmen full-time, beginning with kilims (a flat-weave carpet or rug)—a craft that is dying.
ON REVIVING AN ANCIENT ART
Everyone seems to be moving towards the city because people think that the city is where the money is and that city life is so much better than the nomadic life. In that regard, anything that has to do with the nomadic lifestyle is slowly fading. Nomads generally make kilims and flat weaves—and I naturally felt a strong relation to this craft. I began creating things with semi-nomads. I learned what weaving was, how it’s done, the structure, what the craftsmen weave on, and then I gave it my own twist. I’ve also moved on to gabbeh carpets—this is another kind of weave—it’s more knotted and more like a carpet. It’s also more tribal and edgy.
ON TRIBAL WEAVES WITH A TWIST
Turkish-speaking Azerbaijan people, based in Iran, make my kilims. My strategy is to get semi-nomads, the weavers, to think out of the box and make things that they have never created. I wanted the weavers to reveal the skeleton of the work. This is a process done with fabrics, it is called lathering, but no one has actually done this with carpets and the result is a different texture or fabrication. When you look at my carpets, you can see some transparent areas, and you can see different lines. This gives the carpet more intensity and structure.
ON RESISTANCE
At first, I was told that it wasn’t practical or doable; still today, people say that it can’t be done. When I buy a t-shirt from Raf Simons or Alexander Wang, it gets ripped but therein lays the character. Eventually, the carpets will also rip and you will see areas that are just empty. But again, it’s a process. You start somewhere, and then you take it to another level.
ON HIS PROCESS
I usually order the carpets in collections, and each is composed of around 12 to 16 pieces. It takes six to eight months to obtain the full collection and I generally create two a year but exhibit only one. I can’t show any of the carpets until the whole collection is completed. It’s like clothing—and somehow, it all comes together.
Taher Asad-Bakhtiari is represented by the Carwan Gallery in Dubai.
