Central Asian Art - The Times Of Central Asia

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Kazakh Art

Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken: The Art of Saule Suleimenova

“I’m a very emotional person,” says artist Saule Suleimenova with a bright, open laugh from her home studio in Almaty. Widely recognized as one of the most significant Kazakh artists working today, Suleimenova’s spontaneity and passion emerge clearly as the artist lightens up when talking about the joy and necessity of making work, when she excavates memories of the early days of making art, or when suddenly, she grows gloomy, remembering some of the most painful moments in the history of her country. Behind her back stands a large canvas, where translucent elements, almost resembling stained glass from a distance, slowly reveal themselves as fragments of discarded plastic bags fused together through heat and a whole lot of patience. Born in 1970, Suleimenova has developed a practice that spans painting, drawing, photography, and public art, consistently navigating the delicate and often hard to define boundary between personal memory and collective history: “I feel my personal life can’t be detached from politics and everything that happens around me,” she says, embodying, in a way, a motto from the seventies: “the personal is political.” Suleimenova was an early member of the Green Triangle Group, an experimental artist collective known for its avant-garde and punk-influenced art, which emerged during the Perestroika era and the collapse of the USSR, playing a significant role in revolutionizing contemporary art in Kazakhstan. Today, she is working mostly with archives, vernacular imagery, and the visual language of contemporary urban space. In her work, she investigates how narratives are formed, distorted, and even rewritten over time, particularly within the historical and political context of Kazakhstan. An example is her ongoing series, Cellophane Paintings, composed entirely from used plastic bags, transforming everyday waste into luminous, layered pictorial fields that hold together subjects as vast as socio-political trauma, from the Kazakh famine of 1930–1933, human rights violations, Karlag, one of the largest Gulag labor camps, and the Uyghur genocide. Those heavy themes are associated with some that are more intimate: family members, flowers, and cityscapes. Suleimenova is currently participating in the Union of Artists at the Center of Modern Culture Tselinny in Almaty (15 January – 19 April 2026), curated by Vladislav Sludsky, an exhibition reflecting on artistic partnerships as systems of survival in a region where art historically survived through shared spaces and personal alliances between artists, rather than institutional support. The Times of Central Asia spoke to Suleimenova about memory, material, and the ways personal experience and political history converge in her art. [caption id="attachment_42718" align="aligncenter" width="2500"] From the series, One Step Forward[/caption] TCA: Your recent work at the Bukhara Biennial, Portraits of the people of Bukhara, was made from polyethylene bags collected by the community itself. Can you tell me how your work on this project took shape? Suleimenova: From the beginning, the work was meant to be collaborative with local artists or artisans rather than something already finished and brought from outside. I decided to collaborate with a folk ensemble of Bukhara women - the retired performers...

Kazakh Art

Beyond the Yurt: Rethinking Nomadism in Kazakh Contemporary Art

At a moment when Kazakhstan is building new cultural institutions and asking bigger questions about what contemporary art should do, one curator has been quietly learning how power, taste, and narrative are shaped inside major museums. Akmaral Kulbatyrova, the first representative of Kazakhstan to receive the U.S.-based ArtTable Fellowship, spent 2025 working in the Exhibitions and Curatorial Projects Department at The Bass Museum of Art in Miami Beach, gaining rare inside access to how global exhibitions are conceived and positioned. Her work sits at the intersection of institutional practice and cultural repair, focused on reframing nomadic culture, Central Asian heritage, and Kazakh craft not as static tradition but as a current language. Akmaral’s experience links ambition and execution, showing how local histories can enter international spaces without being flattened. In this interview with The Times of Central Asia, we asked her what comes next. TCA: Nomadic imagery has become central to Kazakhstan’s national identity since independence. How are contemporary artists reshaping these symbols, and why does that matter for how the country sees itself today? AK: Kazakh contemporary artists briefly challenged Kazakh art in early avant-garde experiments in the 1960s. However, it stopped because of the huge presence of Socialist Realism, which was one of the movements where symbols like horses and yurts prevailed. Most of the contemporary artists reshape not the symbols; they reimagine nomadic culture, contextualizing pre-Soviet culture through researching how it changed over time. Many artists look back to pre-Soviet nomadic practices to explore how these traditions were disrupted by colonial and Soviet policies, yet continue to influence Kazakh identity today. By using installation, performance, and video, they move beyond decoration and folklore to show nomadism as a living culture rather than a museum image or symbols. This matters because it helps Kazakhstan see itself not through simplified national symbols, but as a society shaped by change, cultural mixing, and an ongoing negotiation between past and present. [caption id="attachment_42899" align="aligncenter" width="1536"] Qyz Zhibek, designed by Nikolai Vladimirovich Tsivchinsky and Moldakhmet Syzdykovich Kenbaev, 1971; image: TCA[/caption] TCA: Nomadism now circulates widely in pop culture, often detached from its historical meaning. Why does contemporary art provide a more critical way to examine what nomadic identity represents? AK: It’s typical that symbolic images prevail in pop culture, especially for countries that have not experienced a long artistic tradition. It is one of the ways to be acknowledged by the privileged cultures through the symbols that are easy to recognize and quickly signal national identity. In Kazakhstan, these images became important after independence, as they cover the main question of cultural uniqueness after colonial influence. Contemporary art takes slower and more contextual approaches rather than easy recognition. That’s why most modern scholars criticize symbolic language and would like to see art that explores unresolved histories and how nations were challenged or used their experience to construct their identity. [caption id="attachment_42900" align="aligncenter" width="750"] Anvar Musrepov, IKEA KZ; image courtesy of the Aspan Gallery[/caption] TCA: Many artists use nomadic motifs with irony rather...

Uzbek Art

Mapping the Inner Landscape: An Interview with Oyjon Khayrullaeva

In recent years, a new generation of Uzbek artists has begun to reshape how culture, history, and identity are visually narrated. Among them is Oyjon Khayrullaeva, whose practice moves fluidly between photography, digital collage, and large-scale public installations. Born after independence and largely self-trained outside formal art institutions, Khayrullaeva works with inherited visual languages such as Islamic ornament and traditional textiles, reassembling them into contemporary forms that speak to the present moment. Her recent project for the Bukhara Biennial, called “Eight Lives,” marks a turning point in this exploration. Installed in the public and historical spaces of the ancient city, the work consists of monumental mosaic organs that connect physical vulnerability with emotional states and collective memory. Through the human body, Khayrullaeva maps experiences of anxiety, healing, spirituality, and social pressure, transforming ornament into anatomy and architecture into inner landscape. The Times of Central Asia spoke with the artist to trace how Eight Lives emerged, how collaboration with mosaic masters shaped its final form, and how audiences in Uzbekistan are responding to seeing contemporary art in public spaces. TCA: Can you tell me about your beginnings as an artist? Did you always want to become one? Khayrullaeva: From early childhood, my parents noticed that there was something a bit unusual about me. My father has always called me - and still does - an “alien,” because I’m probably the only person in my family who chose a creative path. No one else in my family has been involved in art, at least not for the past seven generations. I was always a creative child, but I never imagined that I would become an artist. As a child, I tried many things; I went to music school, studied piano, and attended various creative clubs. Still, the idea of pursuing art professionally never crossed my mind. Becoming an artist was, in many ways, an unexpected turn in my life. For a very long time, honestly, until around the age of 24, I had no clear idea of what I wanted to do or what my profession would be. I was never certain about it. So yes, life is an interesting thing. You never really know where it’s going to lead you. TCA: Your artistic journey began with photography before evolving into digital collage. How did your early work in photography shape the way you now approach layering, texture, and composition in your digital pieces? Khayrullaeva: When I was around 17 or 18, I became interested in photography. At that time, I didn’t have a camera, so I was shooting with my phone. For my birthday, I was given some money, and I decided to use it to buy a camera. My father added a bit more, and I bought my very first one. It was an incredible feeling taking photos, holding the camera, and shooting. Mobile photography and working with a camera are completely different experiences, and that difference brought me so much joy. I remember the pure pleasure of photographing everything...

Central Asian Art

From Rare Collectibles to Mainstream Chic: The Suzani’s American Story

At the turn of the century, a suzani, the traditional embroidered textile from Central Asia, was almost impossible to find in the United States. These pieces, once given as dowries in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, were the kind of object you might stumble upon in the back room of a rug gallery or in the private collection of a well-traveled dealer. To collectors, they were mysterious and precious, valued partly for their rarity as much as their beauty. Today, in New York and across the U.S., suzanis are everywhere. They hang in boutique hotel lobbies, appear in glossy interior design magazines, and are sold by the dozen on Etsy and Instagram. The journey from rarity to ubiquity is both cause for celebration and reason for reflection, and reveals how cultural objects travel, are reinterpreted, and can carry heritage into new contexts. Rooted in family life and ritual, suzanis were traditionally embroidered by brides with circular and floral motifs, each stitch carrying symbolic meaning. They were displayed at weddings, passed down through generations, and treasured as heirlooms, remaining within Central Asian households for centuries before appearing on international auction blocks or design blogs. Shortly after the collapse of the Soviet Union, suzanis began appearing in the U.S., arriving primarily through Istanbul’s antique textile markets. These textiles - once private heirlooms - caught the eye of auction houses in London and New York as rare examples of artistry. As design editors and boutique retailers rediscovered their vibrant motifs and handmade quality, suzanis shifted from decorative obscurity to sought-after global accents. Collectors quickly prized their vivid palettes and dense embroidery, and museums displayed them as artifacts of a little-known artistic tradition. At auction houses, the most exceptional pieces commanded astonishing prices. For instance, a Shakhrisabz (Green City) suzani from eighteenth-century Uzbekistan was recently valued at up to £50,000 ($67,000) at Sotheby’s in London. As someone who once ran a family Persian rug gallery in the Midwest, I remember the excitement when a genuine suzani appeared. It was almost mythical, a piece that drew genuine excitement from serious buyers and curiosity from casual visitors. In New York, designers showcase suzanis as bedspreads, wall hangings, and upholstery, while fashion houses borrow their patterns for prints. The mainstream embrace is a sign that a once-overlooked textile is now celebrated as part of the city’s design vocabulary, and that Central Asian culture is being appreciated in new ways. Hand-embroidered suzanis take months of work, with their thread tension, symbolic motifs, and slight irregularities forming part of their beauty. Machine-made copies, now sold widely online, mimic the look but erase the artistry; selling for a fraction of the price, they may look authentic but have no connection to Central Asian makers or traditions. Yet the enduring appeal of hand-stitched suzanis shows that authenticity continues to matter, and that the artistry behind these textiles cannot be replaced by machines. As suzanis find their way into new settings, they show that traditions remain vibrant as they adapt and endure. Their symbols...

Almaty Museum of Arts

Kazakhstan’s Cultural Reawakening: Almaty Opens Its New Museum of Arts

First, a young Kazakh schoolgirl in a black dress with a starched collar, her hair tousled by the wind of the Aral Sea, clutches a large Russian book tightly to her chest as she stands before a lonely school building in the middle of nowhere. Then, a camel speaks: “Give me back the sea!” “No!” cries a woman, her face hidden beneath a military hat. She stands before an abandoned edifice, her head wrapped in fur, her body strangely adorned with eggs. [caption id="attachment_36257" align="aligncenter" width="900"] Image: Almagul Menlibayeva[/caption] This series of surreal images is from the video Transoxiana Dream, by one of Central Asia’s pioneering contemporary artists, Almagul Menlibayeva. The Times of Central Asia attended her major solo show, I Understand Everything, curated by Thai curator Gritiya Gaweewong, a powerful exploration of memory, trauma, and identity, which provides the “treble clef” for the opening of the Almaty Museum of Arts. The show brings together works spanning decades, from Menlibayeva’s early paintings and collages in the 1980s, to her recent internationally recognized video and photography works. Through a variety of mediums, she charts the collapse of the Soviet Union, the ecological devastation of Kazakhstan, and suppressed cultural memory. [caption id="attachment_36258" align="aligncenter" width="2560"] Almagul Menlibayeva, People Talking against a Blue Background, 1988; image: Almaty Museum of Arts[/caption] As always in her practice, the feminine and feminist narratives are at the forefront. Menlibayeva’s women are at times bound with nature or with military rule, alternately merciful or merciless. Her works tackle ecological concerns, tying them directly to the destruction of patriarchy. “For us, opening our program with Menlibayeva’s show was highly significant,” says Meruyert Kaliyeva, the museum’s artistic director. “She is a pioneering Central Asian artist who is known internationally but at the same time has always dealt with topics and themes that are important locally.” A New Museum in Almaty The inauguration of the Almaty Museum of Arts represents a decisive step in shaping Kazakhstan’s creative future. As the country’s first large-scale contemporary art museum, it houses over 700 works collected across three decades, offering a panoramic view of modern Kazakh art while opening pathways to Central Asian and international dialogues. [caption id="attachment_36265" align="aligncenter" width="2560"] Almaty Museum of Arts; image: Alexey Poptsov[/caption] Its mission extends beyond exhibitions: the institution positions itself as a center for education, research, and collaboration, aiming to nurture local artists and connect them to global networks. For Kazakhstan, long without a dedicated contemporary art museum, this moment signals a new era, one in which cultural identity is asserted with confidence, and the arts are recognized as a vital force for national memory as well as international visibility. Kaliyeva emphasizes how essential it is that Kazakh artists now have a platform where voices once peripheral to national culture can take center stage. She also stresses the urgency of the moment: in a world reshaped by geopolitical fractures, climate crises, and cultural decolonization, this opening is necessary: “It’s a moment for Kazakhstan to assert its own narratives, to host...

Central Asian Art

Threads of Power: Women, Heritage, and the Art of the Silk Road

From June 24 to July 10, 2025, the Minerva Association will be presenting the exhibition Weaving the History of Central Asia at the Centre Paris Anim’ Espace Beaujon. This exhibition brings together the artworks of Fatimah Hossaini and the textile creations of Beltepà, paying tribute to the women of the region through the motifs and textile skills inherited from the Silk Road. In Central Asia, weaving, embroidery, and sewing have long been passed down from mother to daughter, practiced within the home and shared among craftswomen. These domestic yet deeply skilled practices embody an often-overlooked heritage, one that is both intimate and monumental. The exhibition sheds light on how art and fashion can transcend cultural and geographic boundaries, revealing stories of resilience, identity, and creativity. The exhibition celebrates women not only as artists and artisans but as powerful custodians of heritage. The handmade garments by the women of Beltepà, paired with Fatimah Hossaini’s striking photographic portraits, convey a sense of strength, dignity, and continuity. Together, these works send a compelling message: that of women’s empowerment and the intergenerational transmission of ancestral knowledge. Fatimah Hossaini’s artwork delves into themes of gender, identity, and cultural resilience. Her portraits of women in Central Asia illuminate lives and traditions that are often rendered invisible, offering a bold visual language that honors their presence and voices. The suzanis featured in the exhibition are rich with meaning. Every motif, color, and pattern tells a story, echoing the layered influences of the Silk Road and the women who continue these traditions today. Beltepà reinterprets traditional Uzbek fabrics — atlas, adras, bakhmal, and suzani — through a contemporary lens. Her collections merge craftsmanship with innovation, turning textiles into wearable artworks that reflect a living, evolving cultural identity.