As long as I’ve been visiting Central Asia I’ve been fascinated by different ikat fabric designs, especially those from Uzbekistan, and in particular how such creative work has managed to remain a key part of high-end interior design and fashion worldwide, even during problematic trade periods.
Boutiques and showrooms in the wealthier corners of London, Paris and New York have, for decades, stocked Uzbek-inspired textiles and garments in cotton, velvet and silk. Open any interiors magazine and you’ll inevitably find a photo spread featuring plump ikat covered cushions scattered artfully in a drawing room.
Yet there has been challenging eras for industry and exchange in Central Asia. Most obviously during the Soviet period but also more recently when international business was largely closed off in Uzbekistan under president Islam Karimov amid his autocratic reign from 1989 to 2016.
But where there is demand, ways are found.
Ikat is recognised as a national treasure, and masters of the craft - such as Fazlitdin Dadajanov who I will come to later - found ways to champion it to buyers despite restrictions. Today, following reforms under president Shavkat Mirziyoyev, interest is growing, international businesses are moving in and more overseas visitors are visiting Uzbekistan.
I also like to think that ikat has found ways to forge paths into people’s homes and hearts as there is something distinctly magical and ethereal about it. Otherworldly, even. The way the fabric and designs almost float, cloud-like.