Philosophers might call it a metaphor for thought,- ephemeral, shapeshifting, impossible to hold. Artists chase its edges. Children name its silhouettes. Poets know better than to define it.
This rug was born out of refusal- of flatness, of motifs, of borders.
Hand-knotted, woven and dyed wool with natural pigments, “The Cloud” is a study in texture and form. It comes in bespoke variations of height, from a natural long haired pile- innately wild, textural and three dimensional to the short- manicured, pared down to a soft plane.
A rug that reads more like terrain than textile. Softness at scale