An Interview with Richard Newman,
Rug Restorer

The apartment reflects his devotion: Any surface not given over to hanks of wool or spools of thread is covered with rugs and bagfaces from his own collection -- except for the floor, since prized weavings are not for walking on. (Richard walks on commercial wall-to-wall.) Bathroom ablutions must be performed amid and around plastic jars filled with premixed solutions of pH-balanced detergent -- a 20-percent solution in this jar, an 8-percent solution in that -- as well as hoses, drainboards, and rows of nylon brushes ranked by stiffness, all laid out for rug washing. On entryway shelves, where a layman might keep baseball caps, are sacks of raw fleece waiting to be spun and heaps of yarn to be either worked into old rugs or taken apart and respun.

I met Richard Newman in his undersized one-room apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, where he monkishly pursues his calling of bringing tribal weavings back to life.

Richard doesn't merely reknot, he recreates, frequently unplying yarn and respinning it to get the right tightness, striving to match old warps and wefts as well as old pile. "The wool was prepared in a meticulous way by the original weavers," he says, "and you have to recreate that."

By examining his own work, he has made such discoveries as that wool spun in opposite directions reflects light differently, and these discoveries have enabled him to do restorations so nearly invisible that sometimes, long afterwards, he can't spot his own work. He reproduces pile, he reproduces burnished knot collars to match areas where pile has worn away, he even reproduces frazzled foundations to match areas where collars have worn away -- whatever is called for.

For a small circle of dealers and collectors, he is the one who can fill a hole in a precious piece so the work is undetectable even to the most inquisitive eye. A Brooklyn native, a college drop-out, a former designer of bank accounting systems who took a year's sabbatical to live in the jungle of Belize before finally answering the call, Richard Newman is a single-minded devotee when it comes to rug restoration.

He is also perhaps the leading washer of tribal weavings and a pioneer in that field, which he pursues with as much devotion as he does restoration. "Washing," he insists, "is the first step in restoration," since you have to get the wool clean to know what you're matching. To see him wash is to make one embarrassed at one's own feeble sloshings. He scrubs with gusto, front and back, sometimes with a brush, sometimes with his fingertips, massaging, compressing, forcing the water repeatedly through the wool, and exclaiming all the while how good it feels. "Never up and down with the pile," he says as he brushes sideways and in circles. He squeegees relentlessly with the plastic handle of the brush, forcing out soap and dirt from a bagface that you could have sworn was clean already.

"Sometimes I spend eight or ten hours in here, if a rug is really dirty," he says as he bends over the bathtub. Big rugs he washes in a garage-workshop on Long Island, but small pieces are all done in the tub.

Everything is thought through, down to the lighting by which he works. "No light is perfect," he says, so at his worktable he has a fluorescent light for working with blues, an incandescent light for working with reds, and a full-spectrum light equipped with a magnifying glass for general work. "If I don't have the right light," he says, "it's not just my head that knows it; my body knows it." On behalf of ORR, I asked him a few questions as he went about his labor.

ORR: When people wash their own rugs at home, what do they do wrong?

Newman: Just about everything. First, they fail to get the rug secured. The ends and the edges and the damaged areas all have to be secured. Then you have to analyze how dirty the rug is: Is it just the pile, or is it the foundation too? Once you determine how dirty the rug is, then you determine what strength of detergent to use. If a rug is very dirty, a concentrated detergent attacks the dirt; but if you use a concentrated detergent on a rug that is not very dirty, the detergent will attack the lanolin.

ORR: What kind of detergent do you use?

Newman: Orvus. It's not a great cleaner, but it's gentle. It won't unset the dyes.

ORR: What else?

Newman: You have to have a plan. You have to study the rug, check out the dyes, and make sure there is no bleeding. If there is bleeding, you have to stabilize the colors first. A lot of what people call abrash is really a dye that is slightly fugitive.

ORR: Can you tell if the colors are fast just by looking?

Newman: You can look and see if there's a big difference in the saturation of the colors. If there is a big difference, there's a good chance the dyes are not fast. Look for signs of bleeding on the back of the rug. Almost always it's going to be the red that bleeds, since that's the hardest color to fix. If you find bleeding, you can't soak the rug. Soaking is great if you can do it -- ordinarily you want to let a rug soak for at least half an hour -- but first you have to get past the dye problem.

ORR: You said, "stabilize the colors." How do you do that?

Newman: First, determine why the color is bleeding. If it's a synthetic dye that was never properly fixed, that's an unsolvable problem, or maybe the wool was never rinsed properly when it was dyed. But most likely, if it's a good dye, the dye has been unset by a strong detergent. When there's a residue of old detergent in the rug, your job is to get it out, and then the bleeding will stop.

ORR: And how do you do that?

Newman: Wet the adjoining color areas using an eye dropper. If the adjoining wool is wet, it won't absorb so much of the run as if it's dry. Then clean the rug using the water extraction method: Spray it with a very dilute solution of detergent with a little vinegar to keep the pH low and vacuum the water up with a water vacuum, the kind that's used on upholstery. You can see the water that is being pulled out of the rug, and you can see if it's colored. Keep doing it till the bleeding stops, then you know the color is stabilized. After that you can give the rug a regular washing.

Another method, which requires more skill and experience, is to try to flush out the old detergent by submerging the rug in water and manipulating it rather quickly. If you pre-soaked the adjoining colors, the bleeding color will run off into the water, because there's less resistance.

Another thing: Always wet a rug before using detergent on it. When detergent is absorbed into dry wool, it's very hard to get out. There's usually more stress in getting the soap out of a rug than in getting the dirt out.

ORR: When did you start washing rugs?

Newman: Almost 20 years ago. A friend showed me how to immersion-wash a mat. I had surface-cleaned it, which is the worst thing you can do, because you mix up the dirt and the detergent and you let them soak into the foundation. My friend showed me how much dirt you get out even after surface-washing, by letting the rug soak and by manipulating it under the water, compressing it. It's compression that does it. Think of a rug as a very dense sponge. Just holding a sponge under the water will do nothing. You have to squeeze it, forcing the water through, and you have to keep repeating that process.

ORR: You started with just your own things?

Newman: Yes, in fact I didn't want to wash rugs at all but, once I began to do restoration and color matching, I realized it's essential to get a rug totally clean. Washing a rug brings out the life of the wool, and it restores the character of the weave, which is the handle. Most rugs become stiff from the amount of dirt that is packed into the foundation. Since then, I have learned that washing is really a beautiful thing. It's beautiful to see the color and the character of the wool come back to life.

ORR: So you've really gotten into washing as a thing in itself.

Newman: I love washing, as I love restoration. When you scrub with your hands, it feels so good to work your fingers into the wool, and when you're done, you can put your head on it it's so clean. I can't work on a dirty rug. It drives me nuts. It's also unhealthy. I've gotten infections twice.

ORR: How did you get started in restoration?

Newman: When I ended my last career, which was banking, I decided I was going to be a hot-shot dealer. I started going to auctions and buying three or four pieces a week and making a couple hundred bucks on them.

And I realized the selvages were a wreck and the ends needed to be sewn, and if they could be fixed, they would be much more presentable; so I wanted to learn how to do that, which I did on my own. And then as I changed track and got into collecting tribal rugs, I wanted to learn to do my own restoration. I met the wife of a dealer who spent the day with me showing me the ABCs of knotting and repairing foundations. I thought about it for a whole year, and then I launched into it with a tremendous amount of energy. As I got into it, I found I was totally enthralled with the idea of being able to restore a rug and bring it back to life.

ORR: What do you think of collecting now?

Newman: My attitude toward collecting is very different now. I'm beginning to see that it can be a kind of sickness, in the sense of possessiveness. It's not owning the rug that's important but enjoying it, being free.

ORR: Didn't you narrow your focus at some point, as far as restoration goes?

Newman: Yes, at a certain point I said I'm not going to work on any rugs unless I like them, whether it's an easy job or not. I was going to work on the kind of rugs that I wanted to collect, meaning tribal rugs. Even if I didn't have the rent money, I still turned down other kinds of rugs. I said that's the way I'm going to get a reputation: I'm going to do my very best work on rugs that I like. If you don't have an affection for your work, you can't do a first rate job. When you care for it like it's your own baby, you can put your heart into your work.

ORR: What did you do about matching colors?

Newman: When I was first matching colors -- I have to laugh now -- I had a color chart, and I tried to match the colors in the rug against the colors in the chart. I would order the wool and, when I got it, of course the colors never would be the same. So I started to build a supply in order to have wool to work with. At first I worked only with Paterna wool, which has about 500 different colors. But out of 500 colors there were only about 70 that could even be considered for rug work. The others were too bright. So I ordered all the colors from all the commercial lines just to get a base, and I found by blending different shades together I could come pretty close to the shades I needed.

ORR: Blending by unplying and replying?

Newman: The same way an artist mixes colors on a palette. You have to do that. Naturally dyed wool is variegated and, if you use a solid commercial color, the wool looks very matte. It looks totally uniform, and it stands out a like sore thumb. As soon as you blend two colors together, you get a variation that looks much closer to the original. If you then put in an occasional light knot and an occasional dark knot, you enhance the effect more, and if you put in occasional lighter and darker rows, you get a character that is much closer to the original.

ORR: Did anyone teach you these things?

Newman: No, it was all by trial and error. The same with spinning and washing and restoration. I don't have the slightest doubt about what I'm talking about, because I've tried it again and again and proven to myself that it works.

Making a selection from 1,000 different shades of red

ORR: How many colors of wool do you have on hand?

Newman: About 6,000 -- more if you consider the ones that I never use.

ORR: I see a whole wall full of reds. How many shades of red do you have?

Newman: About 1,000.

ORR: And how many of your colors are from natural dyes as opposed to synthetic dyes?

Newman: Probably 90 percent of the colors I use are synthetic.

ORR: Really? For most serious rug people, natural dyes are terribly important, and the discovery of a synthetic dye is often grounds for rejecting a rug. Yet here you are restoring beautiful, naturally dyed, old rugs with synthetically dyed yarns.

Newman: It's a totally different issue. First of all, early synthetic dyes were very poor quality. They were not fast, and they were very harsh. Now we're 120 years later, and modern synthetic dyes are excellent, or at least some of them are, depending on how much money you're willing to spend. So now we're talking about what is a good match for antique rugs, where the original natural dyes have really mellowed.

ORR: And synthetic dyes are a better match?

Newman: Good color has to do with the quality of the dyeing, not with the dyestuff itself. There's no way by looking at a color that you can tell if it's synthetic or natural. But remember: We're only talking about hand-dyeing, not commercial dyeing. In commercial dyeing they scour the wool and boil out the lanolin, because lanolin keeps the dye from taking evenly. Then they bleach it bright white, so they have control and always get the same results, and that's what you don't want: a color that's absolutely uniform.

ORR: Where do you get your wool?

Newman: From different sources, from farms, from different breeds that I want. Then I have it custom spun, or sometimes I can buy it spun already. It's had just a light wash, so it will take color unevenly, and that's good.

ORR: You had the opportunity to run a restoration workshop in Turkey. Do you regret having turned that down?

Newman: No, I'm very happy. The work there is a far cry from the very delicate work I'm doing now, on rare tribal stuff that I can go all out on.

ORR: I understand that the work done is Turkey is less expensive than you can do here.

Newman: What they do in Turkey is completely different from what I do. They can't do what I do, and I would not do what they do. They can reweave borders and ends, they can do large-scale jobs that would be impractical for me. There are a few people who do excellent work there, but it's not consistent and, when you send them a rug, you can't count on getting the best work.

My specialization is rare tribal stuff when the work needs to be invisible, when the orientation is esthetic. Particularly I work on low pile or where the pile is gone, where the knot collars form a pattern and where the spin and the finishing, the way it's frayed, are all important. Color is only the beginning of it. The patina, the pattern of wear are just as important.

ORR: And you can reproduce those?

Newman: I can reproduce them pretty close. That's what I aim at, to get it to the point that you can't see the restoration even when you look at it from different angles.

ORR: How many people do you figure there are in the United States who can do that?

Newman: Just me, though there may be a few who disagree. There are only two or three other people who can attempt it.

ORR: What about the question of whether to restore or not to restore? Is it the honest thing to do, in terms of preserving a rug's integrity?

Newman: It's really a question of esthetics. Instead of generalizing, think of a beautiful rug that has a hole in the middle of it, which is just disturbing to look at. That's what I do, basically. There's no question the thing is going to be much more enjoyable to look at. But a border, no, I would never do that.

ORR: What work will you take?

Newman: Well, I turn down about half the work that comes to me. First, very little work comes to me that is not intended for me. Most people know what kind of work I do, so they only bring me rugs that I would want to work on. Of these rugs, unless I can get it so the work is not noticeable, I turn the job down. I don't want to do work that won't come out really great -- I'm dead against it. I'll let someone else do it. That's how I got my reputation.

ORR: How long would it take you to restore, let's say, a saucer-sized area worn to the foundation?

Newman: I might spend a day matching colors, half a day spinning, two or two-and-a-half days knotting, and then a half day finishing the rug, trimming it down. Every job is so involved, if I didn't have my heart in it, if I were doing it just to make money, it would be hell. I could do very lucrative work if I wanted to -- small, simple jobs, which is where you make money -- but I'm doing what I enjoy the most. I work on valuable collector pieces that dealers are willing to pay for. It's got to be a fairly valuable rug to make it worthwhile.

ORR: Is it fair to assume that, with some work you do, your customers don't want it known that it's been done?

Newman: That's putting it mildly. I'm not allowed to tell anybody about the work that I do. It's 100 percent secret. Dealers are very concerned about having any exposure.

ORR: So, obviously, dealers are selling restored rugs without telling people they're restored.

Newman: Obviously. Well, I don't think dealers I work with do that, except that they do put them up at auction, and there I've got instructions not to come within 20 feet of a rug that I've worked on. When I go to an auction gallery, other people come up to see what I'm looking at, so I've been warned not to admire my work, in fact not to go anywhere near it. If my clients have fooled the auction gallery, that's between the auction gallery and them, not me.

I won't tell you that I don't love to stand there with an important piece and watch major dealers come by and see if they can spot the work, and they very seldom do.

ORR: That must be satisfying.

Newman: I get a big kick out of it. Sometimes they find it -- they might notice five percent of what I've done.

ORR: Do you have a pretty critical eye when it comes to spotting other people's work?

Newman: If I'm inspecting a rug, I have a very critical eye. If I'm not, it's different. If I'm just looking at a rug, I'm not looking for restorations, and any restorations that I don't notice while I'm just looking at a rug I find quite acceptable. That's the idea, right? You shouldn't be distracted by it.

ORR: What's the best way to spot restoration work?

Newman: Put the rug on the floor and get the light coming in at a low angle. The lower the angle of the light, the more the light is reflected, and little differences will show up. Looking for it is like being a detective. Once you see a little bit, you know there's more, and then you can play tricks with yourself. Close your eyes and open them fast. Your head is programmed, and you have to catch yourself without the program.

ORR: In doing the actual work, how important is it that your work area be set up as carefully as it is?

Scrutinizing wools for work on a Turkoman rug

Newman: Very important. I can only work if I'm in the right state. It's like a meditation. I started out sitting cross-legged on the floor like the Persians, then I went to a flat table and a regular chair, then I discovered that I needed a swivel chair so I could move around, then I discovered I needed a drafting table so I could bring the rug up to my head and not be bending over. You've got to get the right posture. Both feet have to be flat on the floor -- it gives you the leverage. All my movements when I'm working come from the strength I get from the ground.

ORR: I notice a book on yoga on your shelf. Do you do yoga?

Newman: I sure do. That's what enables me to sit for hours and hours without getting sore or stiff. When I bend or when my posture is wrong, the blood supply to my brain gets cut off and I can't concentrate; my brain is occupied with all kinds of secondary things. When I work right, I'm totally focused on what I'm doing. That's what's great about it. I can't go daydreaming or my work comes to a complete stop. And at the end of six hours -- you know what? -- I get up and I'm loaded with energy. When I worked in a bank, that's when I got tired.

ORR: Do you try to work fast?

Newman: If you learn the right technique, the speed comes by itself. And when you do learn the right technique, you keep improving as long as you live. My work is improving every day, and I can measure it by my speed. I'm able to do what I used to do much faster.

Every job has a tempo that's right for it. If you go too slow, you fall asleep. If you go too fast, you make mistakes. Working at the right tempo is very enjoyable. You feel satisfied.

By the way, I think everybody should learn to do something well, have a physical skill. It's great for your self-esteem, for your psychic health.

ORR: Do you seek out business?

Newman: No, I don't seek out business at all. It's just word of mouth. Basically, I won't see anybody unless they've already heard about me from somebody else, if they've been told how great I am.

Look at it this way: Would you have your heart operated on by a surgeon you didn't know? I mean, you want to know the surgeon is it. So when people come here, they've already heard about me from many sources usually, and they come saying, "I hope you would be willing to work on my rug."

ORR: You're pretty confident.

Newman: I'm more than confident. I just know what I can do. I know how it's going to come out.

ORR: Any regrets?

Newman: Not at all. I was doing pretty well working at Chemical Bank, and when I told them I was quitting, they thought I was nuts. I had a future there, but let me tell you, I never looked back. I didn't have any money when I left, but I was really excited about what I was doing. Overconfidence or something gave me the courage. Now I can't imagine working in an office. I think I'd rather be dead.