Two Stops Past Siberia
- Books
- A History of Inner Asia, Svat Soucek
- Beyond the Sky and the Earth, Jamie Zeppa
- Chasing the Sea, Tom Bissell
- Empires of the Silk Road: A History of Central Eurasia from the Bronze Age to the Present, Christopher I. Beckwith
- Erica Marat, The Tulip Revolution: One Year After
- High Adventure in Tibet, David V. Plymire
- The Day Lasts More than a Hundred Years, Chingiz Aitmatov
- The Lost Heart of Asia, Colin Thubron
- This is Not Civilization, Robert Rosenberg
- Three Cups of Tea, Greg Mortenson & David Oliver Relin
- Handicrafts
- Informations
- Projects
Posts Tagged handicrafts
Laptop Sleeves, Like the World Has Never Seen
Posted by KyrgyCarl in Bonus Content! on March 23, 2010
In our continuing effort to pair traditional Kyrgyz art with modern consumer culture, out here in Sunny Naryn we’ve been building our repertoire of felt laptop sleeves. These suckers, designed entirely by the local women here, sport the wonderful damask designs of traditional Kyrgyzstan. Plus, they come in all manner of colors and sizes. One day, if you’re lucky, even these little netbook sleeves will be available at an outlet near you!
Yurt in a Minute!
Posted by KyrgyCarl in Bonus Content! on February 28, 2010
During the needs assessment for the handicraft development project, we found all kinds of novelties we’d never seen before. One of them was a little yurt. This guy was made of yarn and included all of the elements of a yurt in miniature. The woman was able to erect it in a minute! (Imagine using this sucker to teach your classroom about Central Asian life!)
Presenting of a Shyrdak
Posted by KyrgyCarl in Bonus Content! on February 5, 2010
So, as I’ve mentioned before, the Kyrgyz people are notoriously not camera shy at all. They are performers, and relish in showing off their excellent handiwork.
This is true as much in life as it is in shyrdaks. During my recent village visits, I took this little video of the women in their workshop. That old lady off to the right is 85, still working, and damn proud of it!
Hoo hoo! Shyrdaktar!
So, as promised, I’ve been hopping from village to village this past week. I have now officially seen countless shyrdaks in all stages of production.
See folks, now is really the shyrdak making time. During the winter these farm folk have a lot of time on their hands. During the summer and fall they prepare thick felt for these shyrdaks, and in the winter they draw out their designs, cut them up, and then stitch them all together. This makes winter a wonderful time to visit their workshops. (for a discussion of production timing out here, check this out)
Shyrdak workshops are all kinds of colorful. From delightfully complimentary schemes to the most garish collections of neon colors, shyrdaks come in all shapes and sizes. There are little 1×2 foot doormats, longer runners, and room sized monsters. The largest one we saw was still in pieces, but the women claimed it would be 10 square meters! Meters! That’s nuts!
The women who work them are damn proud of their skill, and delight in
showing it off. They’ll pull out same after sample, and then pull out some string and needles to look busy while I take pictures.
The designs are traditionally symmetrical curly things, and every one is an abstraction of something – from people to parties to mountains to eagles, shyrdaks have everything. My favorites, however, are the designs that update traditional designs, ones that take chances. One of my favorites was round, blue and yellow, about 4 feet in diameter, and featured a snow leopard in the middle with a black and white border of waves. The woman who made it was a shyrdak teacher in the local school, and had never sold a single thing; she just made them ‘cause she loved them.
Our work was to identify needs, and report them to the local university, to inform a course we’ve organized. But along with that, we’re just learning what these communities have to offer, and how we can help them. In one village, we met the only woman in the whole rayon who had a foot powered spinning wheel. Unfortunately, it was twenty years old, and the carpenter who made it long gone. In the next village over, however, we stumbled upon a man trained in wood work who said he’d made them years ago, and without pictures and video, could probably fashion a new one. Along with our expressed work, it is these kind of happenstance developments that can make some of the most valuable improvements.
But it hasn’t been all work and no play here in Sunny Naryn. After fifteen weeks of preparation, the local schools all competed in a fashion show sponsored by some university students. I had agreed to let one of these organizers borrow my camera, but when I arrived to give it to her, she informed me I was going to be a judge. See, the prizes, 3 giant teddy bears, 3 rugs and 1 television, garnered so much interest last year, the judges were bribed and everyone got upset. That meant, along with looking for the incorruptible, in Kyrgy Carl, they found their very own surly, foreign Simon Cowell ready to take the helm.
President of Xanadu
As I walked past the main theater in town one morning, I saw large crowds, and dark suited men with springy white ear pieces. So naturally, I went in for a look. Elderly women were arriving in droves, decked out in full regalia. Old men were coming as well, in traditional, long velvet coats, with curly, symmetrical symbols embroidered, each donning tall Kalpaks and any and all WWII medals they might own. I saw one man taking pictures, so I thought I’d follow suit.
It was then I was approached by a man. He spoke what sounded like Cantonese with a long nasally draw on the end of his words. I told him I couldn’t understand him, in Kyrgyz, and he brightened a little, but not much. “Who are yooouuuuu?” he switched to Kyrgyz, “Where do you liiiivvveee? Why are you taking picturrrrrrressss? Will you send them back to Americaaaaaa?”
“I live here,” I told him frankly, “I’m taking pictures of these interesting people, I might send them to America. Who knows!” The fact that we were in a public place, and if I took the same pictures tomorrow there’d be no different, phased him little. Finally, he succumbed to my easy laughter though, and just asked politely if I’d buzz off. So I chuckled, and pursued another route.
Upon going to work at the UNDP, myself, the head lady, and a specialist in from Bishkek headed back to the theater. When I got out of the UN vehicle, I winked at the drawling man, but he didn’t wink back. Then we walked to the door (lacking the necessary tickets), found someone we knew, one thing led to another, and we were being escorted into the gala.
As it turned out (if you haven’t already guessed) the security was for the president, come to give a short speech for the 70th Anniversary of Naryn Oblast. We talked development among ourselves (and some friends who also happened to be in attendance) while waiting for the big man himself. He strolled in, half hour late, as any man of importance should. He gave a speech, we listened, I understood little but applauded with everyone else.
As wonderful as it was, we were there for the artwork, not the politics. We left the ceremony early to peruse at our leisure. I have never seen better handicrafts in all my life. The specialist brought out his recorder, and interviewed the peddlers on their supply chains. I have a project teeming in my head, to find a market in the West for the beautiful felt and leather artwork from this, the Great Knot of the World: Kirgizia, (as our business-minded specialist wants to rename our quaint little country.)
In seriousness, though, its true. Perhaps, one day, in my post Peace Corps existence, you’ll stumble on my little Central Asian gift shop, tucked in a quiet Chicago neighborhood. Swirling in colors, you’ll wonder, from what Xanadu did these things descend? Then, harried, withered and old, I’ll squint softly in reply, “from a Xanadu I once called home.”
Originally Written October 29th, 2009












