Photograph: Imogen Brown

Peering at one of the carpets imported by Kevin Sudeith is like “reading” Where’s Waldo? First all you see is a dizzying array of tribal patterns, but then you notice that tanks form the border of this Oriental design, AK–47s are intertwined with medieval swords, and rocket launchers compete for attention with helicopters.

“It’s an ancient art form combined with contemporary imagery,” says Sudeith, a Long Island City artist who imports and sells the war-image rugs, woven in western Afghanistan homes and workshops in the same centuries-old manner on room-size looms (prices range from $100 to $2,500). He’s one of only a handful of dealers that specialize in this niche market, and he subsidizes his obsession by selling “regular” carpets on the side.

The rugs date as far back as 1980, when the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan prompted weavers to work the machinery of armed conflict into their more pastoral work. “There’s a tradition of landscape design,” says Sudeith. “It was a natural place for helicopters and tanks.” The motifs quickly spread to other designs: “Instead of rows of chicken and deer, they had rows of tanks and airplanes,” he says.

The combination of old and new figures is never meant to be ironic or postmodern. “It’s done sincerely,” says Sudeith. “Designs from Ancient Greece are juxtaposed with modern images.” In some of the carpets—particularly the red variety, which are traced to refugee camps in Pakistan and were popularized by aid workers—massive artillery (usually an AK–47) fills the foreground; in others, locating the martial images is like doing a Highlights puzzle for armaments.

Weavers—who are often, says Sudeith, “burka-clad women living in purdah [the Muslim practice of secluding women] that a Western man will never see”—pick up these figures from propaganda leaflets, but the rugs themselves aren’t message-driven. “The politics of these are very neutral,” Sudeith says. “They’re meant to be images of the world [the weavers] observe around them.” Odd as it may seem, depicting an armed-troop carrier is more folk art than it is a political statement.

Sudeith has yet to visit Herat in northwest Afghanistan—the origin of his rugs­—but he’s quick to recognize the city’s mosques and mountains woven into his acquisitions. “First it was the Taliban, now it’s the war,” he says about why he hasn’t made it to Herat. He does have ties to the region and sponsors weavers through his Project Empowerment campaign. The endeavor gives artisans financial support to create any type of rug they choose. The crafters are almost all women, and he calls the industry one of the few “economic bright spots” in the war-torn nation.

With more than 500 carpets piled in his workshop, Sudeith laughs at the fact that his home “looks so Arabian Nights.” He loans his wares to museums and sells them at flea markets, but his ideal setting is in nature: “The best use for a carpet, in my opinion, is picnicking or camping,” he says. After all, you wouldn’t keep a hand grenade inside, even one woven in wool.

Find the magic carpets online at warrug.com or at Seventh Avenue at 2nd Street, Park Slope, Brooklyn, Sat 10am–6pm, and at the Brooklyn Flea Market, Lafayette Avenue between Clermont and Vanderbilt Sts, Fort Greene, Brooklyn, Sun 10am–5pm.

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