A female uzbek carpet weaver weaving a typical oriental uzbek silk carpet in Itchan Kala Old Town, Xiva - Khiva - Chiva, Xorazm Region, Uzbekistan, Central Asia. Photo / Getty Images
For travellers seeking authentic cultural encounters, an Uzbekistan tour offers rare access to artisans transforming simple materials into objects of astonishing beauty, writes Kalpana Sunder.
Inside a small workshop with the earthy scent of freshly cut wood, I watch a woodcarver at work. His chisels move patiently over a block of walnut wood as a Koran stand slowly takes shape. “Look,” he says, holding up a finished piece with quiet pride. “There are no hinges or nails.” The stand folds open effortlessly, its interlocking parts forming a cradle for a sacred text, or even a modern iPad.
I am in the old town of Bukhara, in Uzbekistan, a living city where more than 20,000 people still live and work within a Unesco-protected historic core. Once a flourishing hub along the Silk Road, it is believed that as many as 200 crafts flourished here, with each neighbourhood or mahalla connected to a particular craft.
Following the gentle curve of its narrow streets, we arrive beneath the great trading domes: these ancient bazaars called Toqi Zargaron, Toqi Telpak Furushon, and Toqi Sarrofon was where the merchants on the Silk Road came to sell their fragrant teas and porcelain, returning with precious gems and gold.
Gayrat, my local guide from Orient Star Group, a company specialising in tours in Uzbekistan and one of the largest tour companies in the country, explains that different trades thrived beneath them in the past – from jewellers to cap-makers and money changers. Today, the vaulted spaces shelter stalls selling miniature paintings, embroidered doppa caps, wood carvings, and vibrant suzani textiles.
As I travel across Uzbekistan, from Tashkent to Samarkand, Bukhara, and Khiva, a recurring motif that stands out is the country’s extraordinary heritage of arts and crafts. Traditional Uzbek craftsmanship spans an astonishing range, from suzani embroidery and knife-making to woodcarving and ceramics. Much of it nearly disappeared during the Soviet period when traditional crafts were discouraged. But after independence in 1991, these art forms experienced a revival. Today, the country is alive with artisans, and its markets overflow with handcrafted treasures.
One of the most striking of these crafts, which I encounter everywhere, is colourful and intricate suzani embroidery. My hotel, Farovon in Tashkent, is decorated with suzani table covers in bright red, and embroidered panels on the walls. The word comes from the Persian word for “needle,” and these richly embroidered textiles once formed an essential part of nomadic life, serving as prayer mats, bed covers, and wall hangings. Brides traditionally embroidered suzanis with their mothers as part of their dowry, decorating them with motifs for fertility, prosperity, and long life.
Inside the enormous Kukaldosh Madrasah in Bukhara, built in the 16th century and once used as a cinema during the Soviet era, I meet master craftswoman Zaynab Murodova. She shows me exquisite jackets and embroidered panels while explaining the language of the motifs: black and white threads for protection, pomegranates for abundance.
The base fabric may be cotton or silk, she tells me, and the threads are dyed using natural pigments like indigo for blue, madder for red, saffron for yellow and pistachio shells for black. Using only four types of stitches, artisans cover vast panels with intricate patterns like suns, medallions, rosettes, and floral forms. I eventually buy a beautiful piece in soft mauve with delicate rosettes, already imagining it spread across my centre table at home. In Tashkent’s Museum of Applied Arts, I see enormous vintage panels that once adorned the homes of wealthy families.
Across the country, I watch artists bend over a sheet of paper, with a slender brush made of squirrel hair. With slow, careful strokes they bring to life scenes from Silk Road history like caravans of camels crossing deserts, merchants bargaining in bazaars, and scholars reading beneath turquoise domes. The tradition of miniature painting in Central Asia flourished during the Timurid era in the 14th and 15th centuries. The art form originated with Persian manuscripts and was used for creating detailed illustrations for poetry, scientific texts, and royal chronicles.
I visit the home and studio of award-winning and internationally acclaimed miniaturist Davlat Toshev, in Bukhara, who started creating these paintings in the 1990s, with a gallery and classrooms, where young students learn the art. Inside, shelves hold tiny jars of pigments made from crushed semi-precious stones and gold leaf. I see many Koranic and Sufi themes painted – men in turbans, poets and holy men gathering under pomegranate trees, and women sitting in gardens at springtime.
Another ancient tradition that I encounter is carpet weaving. Flatweave carpets were traditionally made on simple wooden looms that could be folded and transported. But the most prized carpets are densely knotted pile carpets. Carpet weaving is traditionally done by women and empowers them.
In the outskirts of Samarkand, I visit the Samarkand Bukhara Silk Carpet Factory with Azamat, my local guide. The factory was founded in 1992 by a family from Afghanistan, and today the fifth generation continues to produce silk and wool carpets with exquisite designs.
Amir, who is showing us around the factory, points out the natural dyes they use, derived from walnut husks and other plant sources. He explains how the silk is spun from cocoons. In the main hall, women in headscarves sit bent over their looms, weaving carpets in kaleidoscopic colours. Uzbek carpet designs draw inspiration from Persian, Turkish, and Chinese traditions, yet they have their own distinctive style influenced by Islamic art and Zoroastrian symbolism. Once the carpet is finished, it is washed, trimmed, and stretched before it is ready.
Glazed ceramic tiles decorate mosques, mausoleums, and domes throughout the country. The craft reached a dazzling peak during the Timurid Empire in the 14th and 15th centuries. Today, colourful ceramics tempt visitors in the local markets from water pitchers, cups, plates to large decorative platters. The town of Rishtan in the Fergana Valley is famous for its ceramics and its distinctive “ishkor” glaze, made by burning a local desert plant and mixing its ashes with finely ground quartz. Traditional motifs include pomegranates, peppers, tulips, storks, and phoenixes.
In the village of Konigil outside Samarkand with meandering canals and old-fashioned water wheels, we watch master potter Ilhon Bobomrodon, at his wheel, a simple but ingenious device made of two wooden discs connected by a vertical axle. He spins the lower wheel with his feet while his hands, guided by generations of inherited skill, shape a lump of clay into a perfectly symmetrical vessel. Afterward it will be fired, painted, and glazed, a meticulous and time-consuming process. Here I also discovered mulberry bark–paper making, at the Mukhtarov brothers’ Meros Paper Mill – an ancient art that came from China and was recently revived.
In Bukhara, blacksmiths still forge the famous pichoq knives that were once carried by traders, farmers, and hunters along the Silk Road. Forged from steel in small furnaces, they often have handles made from horn, bone, or walnut wood, and many blades are engraved with delicate patterns. Abdul Waheed, a fifth-generation knife maker in Bukhara, who sells exquisite knives for prices from US$500 to US$800 (NZ$850-$1370), says that he uses only fine Damascus steel and a knife sometimes has as many as 20 layers of steel, forged into a single piece.
At the shop of Salimjon Ikramov, I meet his son, who shows me the iconic bird scissors that others have now imitated. They make special scissors shaped like birds – kingfishers and storks suited for zardozi embroidery. Some say that they descended from 19th century medical clips used by midwives, to stop the blood flowing from the umbilical cord, the storks associated with birth.
Across Uzbekistan, it becomes evident that craftsmanship is far more than a relic of the past. It is a living tradition that continues to shape everyday life in the markets, workshops, and ancient cities of this historic Silk Road nation. What is especially endearing is the quiet confidence of the artisans: no one pressures me to buy. They are simply happy to share their craft and let me decide for myself, a rare and refreshing experience in today’s transactional world. If not for my airline baggage allowance, I suspect I would have brought home every single piece I saw.
Details
Getting there: Fly to Tashkent and connect to other cities via high-speed train.
Shop: Buy ceramics, ikkats, wood carving, suzani embroidery on cushion covers and kaftans. Visit the Tashkent Museum of Applied Arts to see everything under one roof.
Top tip: Consider a tour operator so that transport, hotels and train tickets are easier and an English-speaking guide navigates the language barrier.
The journalist travelled courtesy of Orient Star group Uzbekistan and Farovon Hotels