Whatchamacallit Rugs

More than once at a garage sale two people have spied an item and headed for it at the same time with varying results: the usual term "polite Canadian" usually does not apply at this time.  Once I watched two women dive under a table for an antique toy, bump heads and get into a shouting match, each with a grip on the toy.  The woman seller burst into tears and ran back into the house yelling for her husband.  It was both thrilling and awful!

This is a rug.  A glorious rug. Two feet by three feet of  handmade splendour.  I got it and its mate without incident at a thrift store but I have a feeling that if they  had  been under a table at a garage sale I would have made a dive for them and perhaps astonished myself with war whoops  if  someone else had gone for them as well. 

I don’t know  the name of the technique used to make the rugs in spite of asking many people, searching through rug-making books, wearing the wrist band (shown in the top photo) where I duplicated the method with the hope someone would stop me and declare, "Why that’s just like my grandma used to make rugs," and he or she would then tell me what it was called. 

What it is are squares of material folded on the diagonal and stitched down the center, one after the other, in lines.   The fabric used suggests garments from the Sixties.  This one is a riot of random colour; the other one actually has a pattern to it.  Both are beautifully made,  sewn onto a dense backing, edged in a solid border.

Perhaps they are one of a kind.  Or maybe they are regional.  My curiosity continues.  And, should I come across one like them at a garage sale where the sellers usually (but not always!) know the history of the items they are selling, no matter how serious the foray and the outcome, I will think to ask, "Who made this?  And when?  And where?  And how?"