Adana, South-Eastern Anatolia, 70 years old. Within its 285 x 170 cm (9'4" × 5'7"), three hexagonal medallions unfold across a deep red ground, carried by an architecture of hooks and white stars that nomadic weavers used to ward off the evil eye and protect what was most precious to them.
The oranges still burn with the intensity of period dyes, the blue-greys temper them like an evening breeze, and the red of the ground has taken on, with time, that particular depth no industrial wool can reproduce. Every thread was carded, spun, dyed and woven by hand, in a gesture passed down from mother to daughter across generations.
