Fragment No. 59

The western part, where Lisbon is located, and the eastern part, in present-day Georgia. Both regions share a common hero – Saint George, who fought the dragon.

In ancient tales, dragons dwell atop mountains, usually asleep, guarding ancient knowledge that can only be passed on to a brave soul. Only this hero, to whom the dragon grants its power, can defeat it.

In Lisbon, atop the highest hill, stands Saint George’s Castle, a symbol deeply tied to the city’s history and traditions. During one of the largest processions in Lisbon, this multicultural saint (known worldwide) rides down the hill on horseback to meet the Lady of Health in the Moorish quarter, one of the city’s most vibrant and diverse neighborhoods, embodying a protective energy over the city.

Saint George also lends his name to one of the most iconic cinemas in Lisbon. Nearby, at Cinemateca Portuguesa, a film connected to these cultural stories will be screened today: the Georgian film ‘The Fortress of Suram’, directed by Armenian filmmaker Sergei Parajanov. Based on a Caucasian tale, the film depicts the Georgian people’s struggle to build a fortress for protection. In one scene, they invoke Saint George, as the dragon (its colors resembling the sky and swirling smoke clouds) reveals that the true battle is against the forces of nature.

A true connection between cultures, legends, and ancestral protection.

Check out this beautiful Arraiolos rug, handcrafted by my talented mother!

Arraiolos rugs are an important part of traditional Portuguese arts, with references dating back to the late 16th century. One theory suggests they were introduced to Arraiolos (a village in the Alentejo region) by Muslim carpet makers who fled Lisbon during the 15th-century expulsion of Jews and Muslims by the Catholic king. Evidence of 95 pits from the 12th century, similar to the dyeing complex in Fez, Morocco, points to a long history of textile dye production in this village.

These rugs are crafted on burlap, with pure sheep wool dyed and embroidered using cross-stitch. While Oriental influences are evident, over time, women added their own unique touches. This craft has been passed down through generations, from mother to daughter.

The oldest surviving rugs date back to the 17th century. By the late 19th century, production had nearly disappeared. When revival efforts began, the faded colors were misunderstood—originally vibrant, especially the reds, they had faded over time. The redwood pigment used, imported from Brazil, was rich in color but not very durable.

Interestingly, one hypothesis regarding the name Arraiolos is tied to the color red.

In 1932, the Islamic art collection—featuring the Dragon Carpet at the heart of this collaborative project—was moved from the Bode Museum to the Pergamon Museum in Berlin. This group of carpets, assembled by the museum’s founder and art historian Wilhelm von Bode, formed the foundation of the Islamic collection. The 17th-century Caucasian Dragon Carpet had been acquired by the Kunstgewerbemuseum in Berlin in 1881 and was placed on permanent loan to the Museum für Islamische Kunst in 1922. Bode’s early fascination with these carpets shaped his pioneering research and left a lasting impact on how museums display and study Islamic art. His approach later came to be known among art historians as the Berlin School.

That same year, in June 1932, Calouste Gulbenkian—the renowned oil magnate and art collector—acquired a 17th-century Caucasian Dragon Carpet in London through the Armenian carpet dealer Vahan Isbirian. The carpet is documented as having come from Felix Haim, an importer from Pera (formerly Constantinople). Although little is known about Haim, his name reflects a fusion of traditions: Felix suggests Western or Latin roots, while Haim is of Jewish origin, traditionally used among Jews of various backgrounds.

The Iberian Peninsula has long been a crossroads of cultures and ways of experiencing the sacred — and in Lisbon, this connection takes on an especially intimate form.

On a Friday 13th, in June 1231, Saint Anthony died in Padua, Italy. In Portugal, the number 13 is not feared — on this date, Lisbon bursts into its biggest festivity in honour of the saint. The celebrations extend throughout June with arraiais: vibrant street parties that fill each neighbourhood in celebration of the popular saints.

Born in Lisbon, Saint Anthony is treated with familiarity and irreverence — people turn him upside down, give him a talking-to, or even toss him into a well, hoping he'll grant their wishes a little faster.

He came from a mozarabic (musta‘rib) family and was born near the city’s medieval gate — where the Roman decumanus (east–west road) once ran, and the souk of the old Islamic medina stood. Here, a curious phenomenon is said to occur: after the procession, when his statue is carried backwards into the church, the sun ‘dances’ in the sky, shimmering with waves of colour. Reports of this go back more than a century.

(The miracle moment was captured with the generous help of photographer João Rocha).

Caucasian dragon carpets are frequently displayed in collections of Islamic art. Although the Caucasus is a multicultural melting pot, it is the Armenians who hold a long and recognised tradition in the weaving of these carpets. As one of the world’s oldest Christian communities, Christianity forms a fundamental part of Armenian identity. The weavers of the carpet featured in this project — CulturalxCollabs – Weaving the Future — were likely Christians living under Ottoman or Safavid rule during the 17th century.

Among the many motifs that transcend centuries and borders, the acanthus leaf stands out. Rooted in Classical Antiquity, it flourished in early Christian art and evolved into an infinite pattern within Islamic artistic expression.

Acanthus mollis is a spiny plant with tubular flowers and deeply lobed leaves. It produces a capsule-like fruit, which opens to release the seeds once they have matured. Inside the capsule, the seeds are attached to a central axis that supports them as they develop. This axis is lined with small, rigid hooks that secure the seeds and assist in their dispersal. When the capsule opens, the accumulated tension propels the seeds away from the parent plant.

Being currently engaged in a project focused on the acanthus and Mediterranean multiculturalism, I was immediately struck by the resemblance between the acanthus seed structure and the motif present in fragment #59 of the Dragon Carpet — as if both the plant and the pattern share the same ancestral gesture: to grasp, contain, hold — then to release, let go, and spread.

Similar to dragons, Lisbon's history has been shaped by the forces of nature — the great earthquake of 1755, followed by a tsunami and fires that raged for several days.

After its reconstruction, as if petrified by the gaze of a chthonic creature, the pavements were adorned with what appeared to be stone carpets.

The iconic Portuguese pavement has a surprising connection to a dragon, as it originated at São Jorge Castle, named after Saint George, who is famously depicted with a dragon. In 1842, inspired by Roman mosaics uncovered during contemporary archaeological excavations, a lieutenant-general employed prisoner labour from the Castle, then a prison, to create paving for a military parade. This eventually led to the pavement being applied in public spaces, such as the famous ‘Mar Largo’ in Rossio, which later inspired Burle Marx and the renowned Copacabana promenade in Rio de Janeiro.

This craft, one of great mastery, is defined by the sound of stone breaking beneath the kneeling mason’s hammer and the muffled thud of the paving hammer, marking a rhythm upon the ground. Yet, over time, its quality has deteriorated due to the demands of a fast, consumer-driven society. The shift from sand-based technique to cement has led to poor water drainage — a significant oversight in a place where the Tagus River has long extended its shores.