The flying carpet: an art that connects generations

Archaeologists still find traces of carpet weaving in the Zarafshan and Fergana valleys, where more than two and a half thousand years ago women wove woolen fabrics decorated with sun-like ornaments. In the sands of Khorezm and ancient Bactria, numerous fragments of textiles dyed with natural pigments have been discovered. Over the centuries, these traditions were enriched by the nomadic heritage of the Saka and Massagetae tribes, for whom the carpet served as a wall, a bed, and even a map of the world. With the rise of the Great Silk Road, the patterns and colors grew even more diverse — from Chinese silks to Persian motifs, from Turkmen geometry to Indian dyes — all woven together into a single masterpiece.

On October 18—19, 2025, the ancient city of Khiva hosted the international exhibition “Carpets in Splendor” on the grounds of the Arda Khiva tourist complex. The event brought together artisans from Uzbekistan and other Central Asian countries. The festival showcased traditional schools of carpet weaving, national patterns, and contemporary original works that reflected both the region’s rich heritage and new trends in decorative and applied arts.

Each region of Uzbekistan has developed its own distinct artistic style. In Khiva and Khorezm, carpets are known for their precise lines and deep burgundy tones that symbolize the strength of the earth. The recurring “kurak” patterns — solar rhombuses made from patchwork pieces — serve as a reminder of life’s unity.

Bukhara is famous for its silk carpets, where Persian refinement meets Turkic vitality. The “gul” (flower) and “sarma” (spiral) motifs represent fertility and the eternal flow of time.

In Samarkand, artisans favor soft, organic patterns — leaves, grapevines, and flowing water — making their carpets seem to breathe like a garden. 

Meanwhile, the Fergana Valley is a true kingdom of color: local craftswomen still use natural dyes from pomegranate, indigo, and madder roots to create a vivid palette of golden, blue, and fiery red hues.

In Surkhandarya and Karakalpakstan, coarse woolen threads and large ornaments prevail — a legacy of Afghan and Turkmen nomads. Here, the carpet serves as a talisman: every pattern is an amulet against the evil eye.

The creation of a carpet began long before the first motif appeared. In spring, sheep were shorn; the wool was washed, combed, and spun by hand on a spindle. Dyes came directly from nature: saffron for yellow, walnut husks for brown, onion skins for copper, and indigo for sky blue. On wooden looms called “arga”, women stretched the warp and tied each knot by hand while humming ancient songs. The process could last for weeks or even months. Every carpet was unique, infused with the energy of its maker’s hands and the spirit of the home.

The carpet’s ornamentation is a kind of ancient script:

“Kush” — a pair of birds — symbolizes peace and harmony;
“Oy va quyosh” (moon and sun) — the unity of masculine and feminine principles;
“Egam” — a stepped pattern — represents a person’s path toward perfection;
“Suv belgisi” — the sign of water — purification and protection from evil;
“Buzoq izi” — the calf’s footprint — a wish for abundance and fertility.

One can read an entire philosophy in the patterns: the world was perceived not as chaos, but as sacred order, where every form was part of cosmic symmetry.

Weaving in Central Asia has always been considered a woman’s art. Girls were taught to weave from childhood — it was not only a skill but also a form of upbringing. The first carpet a girl wove became part of her dowry, and sometimes even served as a kind of diary in which she “wrote” her emotions and dreams through ornament. On wedding days, a carpet was laid under the couple’s feet so that their path would be soft and blessed.

Recently, cooperatives and schools have begun to open in Samarkand, Urgench, Nurata, and Chirchik, where young women are once again learning this ancient craft.

It is a source of great pride that UNESCO programs have recognized Uzbek carpet weaving as part of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Today, artisans create carpets not only for daily life but also for galleries, weaving modern lines and colors into traditional motifs.

A carpet is movement captured in stillness. In its patterns, time does not flow — it whirls. Every loop preserves the breath of the weaver, every thread — her prayer. A woven carpet lives for decades, outlasting generations, witnessing celebrations, farewells, and prayers. It unites space — from the sands of Khorezm to the snows of the Tien Shan — like a woven map of Central Asia’s memory.