Woven For The Crown
Traditional Touch
Long before you arrived, before the floor it now rests on was ever built, Cinar rgus existed somewhere in the mind of a weaver whose name has been forgotten by everyone except the knots themselves. It dreamed of colors before the dye ever touched it. It whispered its own design to the hands that made it, hands guided by hands before them, all reaching back to some unseen beginning. Every stitch holds a secret, every pattern a promise. Lay it in a house, and it will settle in like an old spirit, waiting for you to understand it.
Contemporary
Before it found its place and knew what room would hold it, Cinar's contemporary rugs carried its own wind. They moved like a current through the hands that touched them, bending the light, shifting the space. They did not wish to be understood, nor did they seek approval. They simply were. Jester, the Duke, Python, Gator—each pattern a wild breath, a reminder that not all things are meant to be tamed. The room, once certain of itself, now belonged to Cinar rugs, untamed and unwilling to explain itself. Because it can take decades to understand their stories.
Wall Hangings
Halls of Honor
An old weaver once said a good rug doesn’t ask for attention. It sits, breathes, waits, knowing sooner or later, someone will understand what’s in front of them. Three times in America and twice in Dubai. Cinar rugs sat there, letting the light slip through their silk, letting the judges wonder how knots so small could hold entire stories. They never spoke. They didn’t need to. The awards found their way into Cinar’s hands, but the rugs had known long before anyone announced it.
Thanks to the Lights, Behind Them
Light catches inside the spin, gathers itself into the threads, and slips out the other side without shedding its way. They are thin enough to see through but strong enough to be a memory.
From Dawn to Dusk: Ever-Changing Hues
Çınar Sensperience
Turn away, and the walls capture the light. Silk is so thin it glows. Faces so distinct they seem to breathe. There are millions of knots in each rug, each keeping time in its grip. Nothing at Cinar Sensperience is just for the present. Everything is waiting to be noticed.







