How felt reflects the culture and philosophy of the Kazakh people – interview with artist Aruhan
Kazakh metamodernist artist Aruhan (Gaukhar Bissengalieva) shared her unique perspective on working with felt. In an exclusive interview with Kazinform News Agency, she explained how working with felt allows her to explore the interplay between time, tradition, and creativity.
For her, felt is more than just a material—it's a bridge between the past and the present, carrying the philosophy of the Great Steppe into contemporary expression.
Could you tell us more about felt and its role in the life of the Kazakh people?
Felt holds a special place in the culture of the Kazakh people. Made from the matted wool of sheep, this material was an integral part of the nomadic way of life and traditions. Felt was used everywhere — from covering yurts to making clothing and carpets. Its durability, insulating properties, and ease of production made it indispensable. Felt, with its flexibility and natural qualities, not only served practical purposes but also carried cultural meaning, reflecting the philosophy of the steppe and the identity of the Kazakh people.
What is the symbolism of felt in Kazakh culture?
Felt symbolizes home comfort, the family hearth, and the age-old traditions of the Kazakh people. It played a key role in rituals and ceremonies, such as the ceremony of the khan's installation on a white felt rug, as well as in weddings and funerals, becoming an integral part of daily life and cultural heritage.
The patterns on felt products held special significance. They reflected the worldview, connection with nature, family values, and the unique style of each artisan. The designs could be zoomorphic, plant-based, geometric, or cosmogonic, often related to the sun, moon, and stars.
How was felt made?
The process of making felt was labor-intensive and involved the women of the community. They would spread the wool, felt it, and apply patterns. The production of felt consisted of several stages:
1. The wool was sheared, cleaned of dirt, and combed.
2. On a flat surface, the wool was evenly spread to create a base layer.
3. Hot water was poured onto the wool, which was then covered with a mat. The wool was rolled up and rolled back and forth, using hands, feet, or even horses to achieve a dense structure.
4. The finished felt was dried, cut, and decorated.
How did your artistic journey begin?
My love for felt began thanks to my grandmother, who introduced me to this amazing material. I carefully keep her wool-working tools and always take them with me to exhibitions. In the world of art, I took my grandmother’s name, Aruhan, to show the connection between generations and traditions. I called my grandmother "Mother Aruhan." Everyone knows what a grandmother means in a Kazakh family — a source of love, care, and wisdom. I believe it is the culture of grandmothers that allows us to pass on the wisdom and philosophy of traditions.
In our family, we also have my grandmother’s chest, filled with memories, and recordings of my grandfather, Samet Bisengaliev, a talented kuyshi whose compositions were recorded by the "Melodiya" studio. Since childhood, I have been surrounded by music and craftsmanship — family traditions that I now pass on to my children and grandchildren.
What makes your work unique?
I developed a technique for aging felt and a modern way of presenting felt paintings in glass. Aging the felt allows me to express the depth of my thoughts, memory, and connection to the past, which helps immerse the viewer in the philosophy of the steppe. Presenting these works in a contemporary format—under glass—interacting with light and highlighting the texture and beauty of the material is something I deeply value. The natural color of the felt is perfect, and I increasingly prefer using natural shades, seeing in them depth and beauty.
When laying out the wool, I always imagine my grandmother’s hands, framed by the wool. This process is deep and immersive for me. At exhibitions, I am often asked if I use templates, drawings, or computer designs. I stick to the old, classical method of felting, aiming to preserve the foundations of this craft as they were with my ancestors and my grandmother. In her time, there were no computers, but the carpets created by our grandmothers, which have reached us, are true works of craftsmanship.
What is the purpose of your work?
My art is not a final goal, but an endless journey. Each artwork, each pattern on felt, is an invitation to a new beginning. As a contemporary metamodernist artist, I aim to merge ancient traditions with modern art. Felt, for me, is a contemporary material that can convey memory, the connection between generations, and my identity.
Having developed my own methods of wool processing, I registered them as Kazakhstani techniques, which is a significant achievement for me. My project "From Steppe to the City" demonstrates this connection, immersing the viewer in the past and showing the present through new methods that convey the philosophy of the steppe. I hope my art will inspire others to search for their own path of transformation and rebirth. May those who encounter my works find echoes of their own personal experiences and an understanding of the depth of life.
How do you create your felt works, and what is important to you in this process?
The work on each artwork is unique. I never know what the final result will be. Wool, as a natural material, is sensitive to the energy of the artist, which makes every piece unique, and it is impossible to create an identical copy. Even when recording the process on video or photos, it is impossible to return to the same state. The warmth of the hands and thoughts can create miracles.
I enjoy showing felt with a story; the aging process is lengthy. Embedding herbs and other natural materials is also a meticulous task. I essentially embed these materials into the wool with the warmth of my hands, and the felt is born, reflecting my emotions and philosophy. For example, the artwork "Bata" took me six months to create, and it clearly shows the effect of time on the material. Each piece is an echo of my feelings, where colors, lines, and materials are codes of my emotions. My artwork is a mirror of life, soul, and energy, intertwining with personal stories and feelings.
What titles do you give your works?
My works do not have specific titles because titles are symbols of belonging. The absence of a title gives them universality, making them part of a shared space, where each piece is an invitation to dive deeply and strive for infinity.
How do you feel connected to nature, and how does this reflect in your worldview?
When working with natural materials — salt, steppe grasses, seeds, horsehair, tree bark — I feel a deep connection to nature, which is part of the philosophy of the Great Steppe, reflecting the way of life of my ancestors. Many call this eco-friendly and mindful consumption, but for me, it is the philosophy of the Steppe, which has always been a part of my ancestors' culture and daily life.
My art is my way of communicating with the world, my way of preserving and passing on what is invaluable. I have always felt like a lonely saxaul tree — with a unique, one-of-a-kind trunk and long, powerful roots that go deep into the earth. These roots nourish me, allowing me to survive in the harsh steppe and bloom with rare, beautiful flowers. For me, solitude is a space for growth, and the steppe is a source of strength.
