Journal
8 reasons suzanis are the most extraordinary textiles that exist
The world is full of beautiful textiles, but few can match the history, artistry, symbolism, and character of the suzani. Originating in Central Asia and traditionally made by women for their wedding dowry, these extraordinary embroidered textiles have been treasured for generations, valued not only for their beauty but also for the stories they tell about their makers, families, and cultural context. At Suze Studio, I spend my days sourcing, framing, and living with Uzbek suzanis. The more I learn and the more time I spend with them, the more convinced I become that they are among the most special and charming textiles ever created. From their collaborative creation to hidden acts of resistance, every suzani carries traces of the women who made it and the culture they helped preserve. Here are eight reasons why we believe suzanis are truly the most special textile in existence. 1. They are completely handmade works of art In a world increasingly dominated by mass production, suzanis stand apart as remarkable examples of individual human artistry. It would be literally impossible for AI or a factory to create a genuine suzani (ha, I would love to see it try…). Unfortunately, cheap, machine-made suzanis are increasingly ubiquitous, though it's still easy to tell what’s authentic and what's a cheap replica. Most of the latter are being made in India, not Uzbekistan (i.e., if they’re advertising an “Indian suzani”, that should set off alarm bells). Traditionally in Uzbekistan and Central Asia, every stage of suzani making was done by hand. Even the cotton, silk, or linen fabric was hand-loomed, and the embroidery threads were dyed with natural pigments from plants, roots, flowers, and minerals. Skilled designers hand-drew the detailed patterns (more on that later), which were then hand-embroidered using various techniques. Completing one could take months or even years! The patience this would require still astounds me. 2. They were collaborative creations One of the most fascinating aspects of traditional suzanis is that they were frequently made by groups of women working together. Large suzanis were often divided into several long strips of fabric before embroidery began. Different women, including family members, neighbours or friends, would each work on a separate section. Once the embroidery was complete, the strips would be carefully joined together to form the finished textile. This creates the most wonderful idiosyncrasies. My absolute favourite pieces are the ones where you can still see slight variations in the colours used or the stitching style between sections in antique suzanis. They give us a glimpse into the hands of the individual woman/women who contributed to the piece. This collaborative process gives suzanis a unique energy. They are collective expressions of community, shared creativity and heritage. Every suzani is therefore not just one story but many stories stitched together. 3. They were a quiet symbol of resistance Vintage suzanis (i.e., suzanis which are between 30-100 years old) are not just beautiful, but surprisingly powerful. During the Soviet era, many traditional cultural practices across Uzbekistan came under pressure as Russian authorities sought to modernise and standardise society. Traditional handicrafts and regional customs were often discouraged, marginalised, or completely outlawed. Yet embroidery continued. Women quietly preserved their knowledge at home, passing techniques, motifs, and traditions from one generation to the next. Suzanis became more than decorative objects; they were a means of protecting cultural identity. When we encounter these vintage suzanis today, it’s important to remember they’re not just pretty things but evidence of resilience. These pieces survived because generations of Uzbek and Central Asian women chose to continue making them, even as it became increasingly difficult. 4. They still bear the marks of their makers One of my favourite details found in many suzanis is something many people overlook entirely: the original pen or ink markings used to draw the design. Before embroidery begins, someone must first create the pattern. Traditionally, this was a highly respected role within the community, called a kalamkash. Not every woman was permitted to draw these designs. The responsibility was often reserved for particularly skilled artists who understood both the aesthetic traditions and symbolic meanings of the motifs. This role could only be given by one kalamkash to another, for instance, handed down between mother and daughter. The designs were sketched directly onto the fabric, often in pen, before the embroidery started. This is why they can still often be seen peeking through the stitches. These traces feel wonderfully intimate, connecting us to the original creator and the earliest stages of a process that may have begun more than a century ago. They’re reminders that suzanis were never factory products but the work of skilled individuals. 5. Their antique designs feel surprisingly modern Perhaps one reason suzanis work so beautifully in contemporary interiors is that many of their designs feel remarkably modern despite being over a century old. This is particularly the case for antique suzanis (i.e., ones that are over 100 years old). Large-scale florals, bold medallions, abstract forms, and the use of negative space all give antique suzanis a visual confidence that feels fresh and relevant. Their patterns can appear graphic and expressive, almost contemporary, despite predating modern design movements. Many contemporary textile designers, artists, and interior decorators strive to achieve the same balance of simplicity and impact that traditional suzanis accomplished so long ago, which is why you see so many of the big fabric designers in London using them as a blueprint. Their timeless motifs and geometric patterns allow suzanis to fit effortlessly in both traditional and modern homes. Whether paired with more antiques or a cleaner aesthetic, they bring warmth, colour, and personality without ever feeling dated. Few decorative objects bridge past and present so gracefully. 6. They are filled with symbolism and blessings Suzanis were traditionally created as part of a bride's dowry and carried deep symbolic meaning. Far more than decorative textiles, they were intended to bless and protect the newly married couple as they began their life together. Different motifs carry different messages. Pomegranates symbolise fertility and abundance. Flowers represent beauty, growth and renewal. Circular sun motifs often signify life, happiness and prosperity. Vines suggest continuity and family connections over the generations. To this day, the overall compositions of suzanis are carefully designed to express hopes for a successful marriage, healthy children, prosperity and good fortune (they make excellent wedding gifts for this reason!) When you display a suzani in your home today, you're not simply hanging a beautiful textile. You're welcoming an object that was intentionally created with optimism and generosity. 7. They were (traditionally) made to be loved, not sold Perhaps one of the most meaningful aspects of older suzanis is that they were never intended as commercial products. Many vintage and antique suzanis were created solely for use in family life. They were made to mark important milestones and displayed during weddings and celebrations before becoming treasured household heirlooms. Their value was deeply personal rather than monetary. Because they were made to be used rather than preserved behind glass, many antique suzanis bear the gentle signs of lives well lived. You may notice a carefully stitched repair, a reinforced edge, or a section that has been lovingly mended decades after it was first embroidered. To me, these aren't flaws; they’re some of my absolute favourite details. Each tiny repair is evidence that the textile was cherished enough to deserve another chapter. Instead of being discarded when damaged, it was carefully restored so that it could live on. 8. Their unfinished areas demonstrate humility Many suzanis were intentionally left incomplete. At first glance, this may seem surprising. Why spend months creating an extraordinary embroidered textile only to leave sections unfinished? The answer lies in a cultural belief rooted in humility. In many traditions, absolute perfection was considered unattainable and perhaps even inappropriate for human beings. Leaving small areas unfinished acknowledged that only ‘the divine’ could produce something truly complete. There was also a practical and poetic dimension to this custom. The unfinished embroidery suggested that the work could always be picked up and continued in the future, most likely by a daughter. The story wasn't over. Another generation might add to it, repair it, or simply carry its traditions forward. These incomplete areas make vintage suzanis feel wonderfully human, reminding us that beauty doesn't come from perfection. The enduring magic of suzanis Perhaps the greatest charm of a suzani is its ability to combine so many qualities at once. It is art, history, symbolism, craftsmanship and storytelling woven together into a single object. Every piece bears the marks of human hands, connecting us to generations of women who preserved their traditions through creativity, collaboration and care. In an age of disposable design, suzanis offer something increasingly rare: authenticity. Again: AI could literally never!! They are textiles with soul. And that is why, in my eyes, they remain the most charming textiles that exist. Image: Katy Goutefangea. Sources and further reading: Erber, C. (2026). Suzani: Art of the Silk Road (P. Oakley & M. Voigt, Contribs.). Hali Publications. Gillow, J. (2010). Textiles of the Islamic world. Thames & Hudson.
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My 10 day Uzbekistan itinerary for first timers and textile lovers
Uzbekistan had fascinated me for years before I finally visited. It’s a country where Silk Road history, stunning Islamic architecture, and beautiful textiles all come together. Last October, I spent two weeks solo-travelling around Uzbekistan by train, exploring ancient cities, eating my way through the markets and, let's be real, spending plenty of time searching for textile treasures. Side note: I do think Uzbekistan is a very solo-traveller-friendly country, even as a woman. I've felt less safe in London and New York than in any Uzbek city. English is becoming increasingly more common, especially in Bukhara and Samarkand, and it's incredibly easy to get around. In reality, you could easily experience the highlights in 10 days, especially since several of the historic cities are quite compact. The high-speed rail network (Afrosiyob) also makes travelling between them surprisingly easy. Make sure you book your trains in advance (I believe dates are usually released 6 weeks in advance), as they do sell out. You can book tickets online through the official Uzbekistan Railways website or the mobile app. This itinerary takes you along the classic Silk Road route through Tashkent, Khiva, Bukhara, and Samarkand, with lots of chances to discover traditional Uzbek suzani textiles. If you love colour, craftsmanship and centuries-old markets, I'm sure you'll fall just as in love with Uzbekistan as I did! Day 1–2: Tashkent (1 or 2 nights) Most international flights land in the capital, so Tashkent is the natural place to start your trip. It’s a fascinating city shaped by Soviet brutalist architecture, ancient trade routes, and today’s budding Uzbek culture, including an increasingly attractive restaurant and art scene. Arriving in a new place can feel a bit intimidating, especially late at night. Since I landed around midnight, I pre-booked a transfer to my hotel using Welcome Pickups. It costs a bit more than grabbing a taxi at the airport, but I think the peace of mind is worth it. I stayed at Ateca Hotel Suites, which is in a great location near the Ming O’rik metro station. Begin your visit by exploring the Tashkent Metro, which is, by far, one of the most beautiful subway systems in the world. Each station has its own unique style, with chandeliers, mosaics, and marble interiors. It’s also super easy to navigate, using a colour system. Some of my favourite stations were Mustaqilik Maydoni, Gafur Gulom, Alisher Navoi, and Bodomzor. Getting off at Chorsu station, take your time to wander through the stalls and levels of Chorsu Bazaar, a large domed market where locals buy spices, fresh produce, and traditional foods. It’s a great place to enjoy the atmosphere and sample local snacks. The sellers are extremely welcoming to foreigners and are eager to share their culinary heritage. One thing you cannot miss, which is ubiquitous in markets, hotels and restaurants alike, is Uzbek bread. Baked in round shapes in a tandoor oven, it's chewy on the outside and soft in the middle, sort of similar to the texture of a bagel, and delightfully salty (but not too much). These round loaves are not only delicious but are beautiful, like art. Beyond the food area of the Chorsu Bazaar, you can also find all sorts of other essentials, household goods, and textiles in the outer sections. For those interested in craftsmanship, the Museum of Applied Arts in Tashkent is a must. The building itself is stunning, filled with carved wood, painted ceilings and rooms showcasing traditional embroidery, ceramics and textiles. Their antique suzani collection is mesmerising! Other worthwhile stops include: The Memorial to the Victims of Political Repression gives insight into Uzbekistan’s complex history. Be sure to get a tour guide here unless you speak Uzbek or Russian, as the information isn’t available in English. Amir Temur Square, home to the iconic Hotel Uzbekistan Ko’kaldosh Madrasasi and Hoja Ahror Valiy Mosque (very close to the Chorsu Bazaar) No visit is complete without trying plov, Uzbekistan’s famous rice dish with lamb, raisins, carrots, and spices. I had a great one at Restaurant Caravan. Day 3–4: Khiva (2 nights) Khiva feels like walking into a perfectly preserved Silk Road movie set. You can reach Khiva by flying to Urgench and driving for about 40 minutes (which saves you a bit of time), or by taking the overnight train from Tashkent (which is an experience in itself!). Once you arrive, stay inside the historic walled city of Ichan Kala, which is like an open-air museum. I stayed at the Polvonnazir Guest House, which has fantastic views and an even better breakfast. The hosts just kept bringing out plate after plate of fruit, nuts, eggs, and various pastries and sweets! The old city is quite compact and small enough to explore on foot, which makes it great for wandering and taking photos. If you want to avoid the crowds, I'd recommend getting up early to walk around, just after sunrise at about 8am, since most tour groups arrive around 9 or 9:30am. Definitely bring layers, too. Don’t be fooled by thinking deserts are always hot, like I was. I was there in October and practically wore everything in my suitcase one morning when it was 4 degrees Celsius - it later warmed up to 25 degrees Celsius! Highlights include: Kuhna Ark, the former citadel of Khiva’s rulers Climbing the Islom Khoja Minaret for sweeping views over the old city Afternoon tea (they have an excellent menu here for fruit infusions) or a sunset drink at Terrassa Café, overlooking the rooftops The famous Kalta Minor Minaret, a turquoise-tiled masterpiece that you’ll probably want to photograph again and again. I probably have 300 photos of it! You also can't visit Khiva without trying Shivit Oshi, a green noodle dish topped with beef stew. To make the noodles green, a healthy amount of dill is mixed into the dough, which also adds a zingy flavour that pairs well with the savoury stew and dollop of sour cream on the side. I had a great one at Arxi Terrassa. Khiva has many small workshops where artists make traditional textiles and handicrafts. The Allakuli Khan Tim Market offers a wide selection of new suzanis and crafts for sale. Even if you’re not planning to buy anything, it’s a great place to learn about the region’s craft traditions. If you're after something with a bit more patina, many souvenir shops also have stacks of vintage suzanis if you look toward the back or ask politely. Day 5–7: Bukhara (2 or 3 nights) From Khiva, take the train to Bukhara, which takes about 7 hours. Bukhara is one of the most atmospheric cities in Central Asia. If you have time, I suggest spending at least three days here to really enjoy its history and feel. The old city is filled with hidden courtyards, historic madrasas, and shaded squares where locals gather for tea. I was lucky to visit during the Bukhara Biennial, so many old buildings and madrasas were open to the public for the first time, with exhibits across every medium imaginable from international artists. I recommend staying in one of the beautiful family-run guesthouses in the old town. I stayed at Art Suzani, which overlooks the Kalan Minaret. Many of these guesthouses are converted merchant houses with carved wooden columns and quiet courtyards. Architectural highlights include: The Kalan Minaret, which has dominated the skyline since the 12th century The grand Po-i-Kalan complex Bukhara Ark, which has a history that spans thousands of years The charming Chor Minor, known for its four turquoise domes Sitori-i-Mokhi Khosa Palace, once the summer home of Bukhara’s Emir, is full of painted ceilings, collected furniture, and has the most beautiful antique suzani collection I’ve ever seen in the old Harem. I highly recommend hiring a guide for a full day. Without one, you’ll see many beautiful buildings but will likely miss out on the fascinating history behind them. If you love textiles, Bukhara is a dream. The city is known for silk ikat and suzani embroidery. Several workshops let you watch artisans draw their designs and stitch using techniques passed down for centuries. Some will even show you the step-by-step process, starting from the silk worms munching on mulberry trees. Don’t miss: Visiting a suzani workshop to learn about the craft. I recommend the one right next to Toqi Zargaron, very centrally located. Browsing the historic Tim Abdulla Khan trading dome, once part of the Silk Road marketplace network Stop by my friend Mirzo’s shop (@bukharaold) in Abdulaziz Khan Madrassah. He has some of the most beautiful vintage and antique pieces you’ll find! The family that runs Art Suzani also has its own suzani shop in Ko’kaldosh Madrasasi, which is well worth a visit if you’re on the hunt for embroidery. One of my favourite places in the city is Lyabi Khause Square, centred around a peaceful pool and surrounded by cafés. It’s perfect for people-watching with a cup of tea after a day of sightseeing. I had great meals in Bukhara at Zolotaya, Sitora Kafe, Ayvan, Magic House, and lovely pick-me-ups at Donuts and Coffee. If you have extra time during your trip, spend it in Bukhara. You won’t regret it! Day 8–9: Samarkand (2 nights) Next, take the train from Bukhara to Samarkand, which takes about four hours. Samarkand is probably Uzbekistan’s most famous city, as it once held a prominent place as one of the capitals of the Islamic world. Samarkand’s architecture is truly impressive. The monuments were built to amaze traders travelling the Silk Road. The highlight is Registan Square, a huge plaza surrounded by three stunning madrasas covered in intricate tilework. It’s one of Central Asia’s most iconic sights. Other essential stops include: Bibi-Khanym Mosque, once one of the largest mosques in the Islamic world Shah-i-Zinda, a stunning necropolis that many call the most beautiful cemetery in the world If you love markets, be sure to visit Siyob Bazaar, right next to Bibi-Khanym. You’ll find plenty of fresh fruit, spices, nuts, and traditional breads. Samarkand is also a great place to look for antiques and textiles. One of the most memorable shops is Haydar’s antique store, which is full of vintage ceramics, embroidery, and other treasures. I ran out of time and energy, but I’ve heard you can also find vintage suzanis at the Urgut Bazaar, a short drive from Samarkand (only on certain days of the week, so ask your hotel/guesthouse for more information before going). For a real local food experience, try lunch at a small family-run spot just off one of the main streets. On Google Maps, it’s called ‘Halisa, Samsa, Shurpa (fresh home cooking)’. They only serve a few dishes each day. I had halisa, a wheat-and-meat porridge, and shurpa, a lamb stew. Both were incredibly delicious. To end your visit, have dinner at Boulevard Restaurant, a great place for a relaxed evening after sightseeing. It’s also a bakery with excellent croissants. I also had delicious Georgian food at Gruzinka Restaurant for something a little different. Day 10: Return to Tashkent (1 night) The high-speed train makes it easy to get back to Tashkent in about two hours, depending on which service you take. If you have time before your flight, try to fit in one last market visit for a final textile find or buy a loaf or two of round bread to smuggle home in your suitcase. If you’re like me, you’ll probably leave Uzbekistan with more embroidery than you expected, and a newfound love for Uzbek bread!
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5 things I look for when sourcing textiles
One of the questions I’m asked most about Suze Studio is: How do you select the textiles you frame? I have the immense privilege to travel to different corners of the world on sourcing trips. It is one of the most rewarding parts of the process, but it can also be overwhelming. So many factors are at play when deciding whether to bring a specific textile home: Is it authentic? What kind of condition is it in? Can I repair it or have it professionally cleaned? Is the price right? Do I have enough cash on me? I often have to make all these decisions in seconds or minutes. Shopkeepers are usually gracious, but you don’t have all day! Not every beautiful textile is right for framing. When sorting through textiles in markets, antique shops, and private collections, I focus on qualities that help a piece work as framed art. I don’t always get it right. I made quite a few mistakes, especially on my first sourcing trip in Istanbul, letting myself get caught up in the beauty of vintage textiles without recognising that some were actually quite a project in terms of repairs and cleaning. But with each sourcing trip, I learn a few more lessons about what textiles I should keep vs let go. The following are the five main things I look for when choosing pieces for Suze Studio. 1. Authenticity and craftsmanship First, I always pay close attention to the embroidery's quality, and whether it is authentically handmade. Hand embroidery simply has its own rhythm. You can often spot small changes in the stitching where the maker adjusted the thread, changed direction, or added their own touch to a design. These little differences are what make handmade textiles special. Authentic pieces often feature traditional techniques, such as dense satin stitches, chain stitches, and layered threads that build rich texture. The textile’s back can be as revealing as the front. Sometimes, turning a piece over quickly reveals whether it was made by hand. Messy backs often indicate handmade work, though some artists tidy them up. I’m especially drawn to textiles where the stitching shows expression rather than perfection, reflecting both tradition and the maker’s unique skill. When a textile is framed, its craftsmanship stands out even more. The threads catch the light, and the texture adds depth that printed art can’t match. 2. Striking visual appearance I’m drawn to textiles that have presence, and sometimes there will be a piece that simply stops me in my tracks. Markets and textile shops can be overwhelming, but occasionally a piece immediately stands out—whether through bold patterns, confident stitching, or the scale of the design. Large circular medallions, coarse, twisting vines, bold floral patterns, or strong geometric shapes can all make a piece powerful when framed. I also love designs that feel expressive and a bit imperfect, not perfectly symmetrical. 3. Patina and condition Many antique embroideries have had long lives as dowry pieces, wall hangings, bed covers, or ceremonial textiles. Over time, they develop gentle fading, soft wear, and a texture that you only get from years of use. This patina can be beautiful when framed. It adds depth and character that new textiles don’t have. Still, the condition is important. I check that the fabric is strong enough to be mounted and preserved. Small signs of age, such as light fading, minor stitching flaws, or slight colour changes, can add charm. But big tears, heavy stains, or weak fabric can make a piece unfit for framing. The goal is to find textiles with a rich history that are strong enough, with some reinforcement, to last. 4. Colours and colour contrast Colour is one of the most important factors that I consider. Traditional embroideries from Central Asia are known for their vibrant palettes: deep reds, rich indigo, warm saffron, earthy browns, and soft creams. I have an enduring love of colours, but I also recognise that others may not be as enthusiastic about bringing such rich colour into their homes or simply lean into more neutral palettes. I pay close attention to how a textile’s colours will sit within contemporary interiors. Many antique textiles feature gloriously muted colour combinations that are perfectly suited to modern homes. For newly-made textiles, I tend to gravitate towards soft creams, greens, blues, and reds, which are suitable for a range of interior styles. But it’s not just the colours that matter. It’s how they work together. I always look for strong colour combinations. Good contrast between the embroidery and the background helps the pattern stand out. A deep pink or red design on ivory cotton, or purple against a warm neutral fabric, can create a dramatic effect when framed. 5. How a textile will work framed When I look at a textile, I rarely see it just as it is. I’m always imagining what it could look like once it’s framed. Some pieces are quite large. They are often made as bedspreads or decorative covers. In these cases, I might focus on a striking part of the embroidery for framing as a standalone artwork. I ask myself questions like: How could the piece be divided into sections that each feel like an artwork in its own right? Is there a clear focal point? Would cropping enhance the design? Framing transforms a textile from something functional into a standalone work, making size, symmetry, and visual balance more important. If I can’t immediately picture it on a wall, I keep looking. The joy of the hunt Sourcing textiles is a mix of research, intuition, and a bit of treasure hunting. Every piece I bring back to the studio has passed through these criteria: condition, composition, visual impact, colour, and craftsmanship. When all five come together, the result is a textile that not only tells the story of its origin but also works beautifully as framed art.
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