Seventy-five years ago, in the region of Adana, two looms worked side by side, most likely in the same household, a mother and her daughter perhaps, each bent over her half of the kilim, choosing her own shades while keeping the same design in mind. The result can still be read today, two columns of five hexagonal medallions that answer one another in mirror without ever being identical, ivory and saffron, anthracite grey, red and navy blue, peach and coral, like two voices singing the same melody with different inflections.
A dense red ground, crossed by fine cream chevron lines, connects these ten medallions like the thread of a continuous conversation, while a midnight blue border, rhythmed by stylised yellow and red flowers, closes the whole with an elegance that has not dated. Across its 195 x 175 cm (6'5" × 5'9"), this kilim carries the trace of that silent dialogue between two hands, and once one has seen it, one understands that one has just found its echo.
