Uzbekistan today faces the rather complex task of rethinking its cultural identity. This involves several factors: the shared history of the many peoples and cultures that have shaped the territory of the present-day republic; the legacy of the Soviet era; and the new reality of digital freedom without borders, which has brought a vast range of global styles, genres, and ideas.
The outcome of this ongoing rethinking is expected to be a new cultural code for contemporary Uzbekistan. In the past, despite its stereotypical nature, it was relatively legible. Uzbek culture was associated with specific images that could be identified even by an untrained viewer, such as patterned embroidery, ceramics with cotton motifs, and distinctive melodic ornamentation in music.
Over the past three decades, however, the situation has changed. The remnants of the past have receded into the background and even stereotypes are losing their relevance. The country is in a constant search for itself, and this applies especially to the arts. Today, traditional Turkic elements, Soviet heritage, Western influences and still limited original contemporary approaches coexist within the same cultural field.
The process of self-identification and the search for uniqueness is, as expected, a long one. We spoke with prominent figures from Uzbekistan’s cultural and artistic scene to learn their views on what is working well in this process today, what is lacking, and what obstacles remain.
For more details on the origins of World Day of Culture, read the article by Tigran Mkrtchev:

Alexey Ulko

Cultural scholar and linguist Alexey Ulko believes that Uzbek culture is trapped in a conceptual impasse. In his view, the main problem is the persistent need to define a single “authentic national culture” instead of recognising the country’s actual cultural diversity.
Alexey Ulko
Culture in Uzbekistan today remains in the same state of conceptual tension that I wrote about back in 2015, although the political context has changed since then.
The Karimov era has ended, regional dynamics have shifted but the key questions remain the same. We still cannot agree on what exactly should be considered "national culture," and the very need for such an exhaustive definition prevents us from moving forward. Although there is a growing understanding in intellectual circles that national identities are constructed and that the relationship between the modern state and historical ethnic cultures is always politically mediated, this understanding is developing painfully slowly. Soviet colonial categories do not disappear as quickly as one might hope, which creates constant confusion between ethnic, territorial and state-based understandings of culture.
When someone claims that “Uzbek culture is…”, the immediate question arises: are we talking about what culture is, or what it should be, and who has the right to define the set of features that will be declared “authentic”? Any attempt to fix such a list immediately raises the question of authority: is it the president, academies, ministries, foundations, or some other body? On what basis is this decision made? The problem is that any affirmative answer only highlights the artificial nature of the culture being constructed.
If we accept instead that cultural forms emerge within communities themselves, then the need for a central arbiter disappears. The contradiction between what culture is and what it is expected to be will not be resolved until we accept a simple fact: culture is everything that actually happens within a country, with all its hybridity, inconsistency and internal contradictions. Ancient monuments, pop culture, contemporary experiments and borrowings are not equal, but they are equally real. No one is a more “authentic” bearer of culture than anyone else. The pursuit of uniqueness as an ultimate goal is itself logically flawed.
All countries are already unique: Uganda, Uruguay, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, each in its own way. The desire to become “more unique” than we already are usually masks dissatisfaction with reality and a wish to become someone else without addressing the issue itself. Hence the attempts to build giant monuments and symbols that supposedly “represent” the country to the world. But such constructs quickly become obsolete, as circumstances change along with names, flags, political regimes and meanings. The only reasonable path is to finally abandon the Soviet administrative practice of constructing cultural purity and uniqueness. The fact that it is now called “branding” and serves commercial purposes does not change the mechanism.
Campaigns designed to attract attention do not last longer than the journey from the airport to the neighbourhood where you encounter real life rather than curated images. Culture does not need top-down management; it needs freedom. Bureaucracy can only help by stepping aside. In countries known for their cultural distinctiveness, experimentation is not feared and there is no attempt to predetermine what will “enter history”. That decision is made by history itself, not ministries. True distinctiveness emerges only where culture is not shaped according to a top-down template, but is allowed to grow.

Farrukh Zakirov

People’s Artist Farrukh Zakirov offers a slightly different view. He believes that top-down management should not be absent altogether; rather, it should be competent and consistent, take into account past experience, and leave room for self-expression.
The question of self-identification is extremely complex. Our culture must indeed be unique, because its roots are incredibly deep and strong in every direction: literature, music, cinema, and more. In these conditions, a particular form of mastery lies in continuing this tradition, passing centuries of knowledge and skills on to future generations. This is a very challenging task.
One of the solutions is to create a number of academies to pass on cultural and spiritual values to young people. Then it would be unique in any case. This was the case, for example, in early 20th-century Uzbekistan, when those who set up the State Academic Bolshoi Theatre of Opera and Ballet named after Alisher Navoi received a strong professional education. My father was among them.
At the Moscow Conservatory, there was, by the way, an Uzbek department. Young people received a classical foundation there and then developed further, passing on their skills to the next generations: ballet, maqom, and other national art forms.
That is why I greatly appreciate that in our country, the President personally attaches great importance to this field. For instance, a new higher education institution is currently being establishe, the Botir Zokirov Institute of National Estrada Art. This is especially meaningful to me, as I am part of this family. What is  especially important is that in Central Asia, and indeed in Asia as a whole, there has not been an institution of this kind dedicated specifically to estrada art. I say this with pride, because in the past, for example, during the Soviet period, pop art was considered too lightweight a genre and was not taken seriously. Although in reality, it is a highly responsible form of art, as it has a very large audience.
Estrada art is one of the foundations for shaping a country’s distinctiveness, and we have every opportunity to achieve it.

Igor Pinkhasov

Composer and member of the Union of Composers and Bastakors of Uzbekistan, Igor Pinkhasov offers another unconventional perspective on the question of cultural and artistic identity. In his view, it makes more sense to focus on creating the conditions for nurturing and developing talent, which will ultimately form its own unique artistic language, rather than trying to define cultural distinctiveness first and only then expecting “stars” to emerge within it.
I’m not convinced that academic art should be actively searching for its own uniqueness or dividing itself by regions. I will speak about music, since that is my field. Concepts like “Russian music”, “German music”, “Uzbek music” are, in my view, very relative. What do we mean by German music? Works by Bach, Beethoven, Schumann, Wagner. Are they German composers? Of course, but they are all completely different. The melodies, the sounds, the compositional methods differ so much that it’s impossible to say it all belongs to same regional school.
Pyotr Tchaikovsky, for example, is widely regarded as a great Russian composer. At the same time, he was inspired by French literature and culture in general, and also worked on commissions from France. There are universal, shared human values that are perceived independently of country, region, or anything else.
That’s why I believe that, first and foremost, the country should foster and develop truly unique individual artists. It is they who will then shape the culture and art of the state and the entire region through their creative work.
And here I can share some thoughts on how to create the conditions for such artists and composers to develop. One starting point could be new large-scale music festivals, above all, festivals of symphonic and chamber music, in other words, composer-driven music.
We already have a wonderful festival, Sharq Taronalari, but firstly it is mainly focused on folk and traditional music rather than academic art, and secondly it is held only once every two years. Yet such festivals are extremely important: musicians from different countries come to Uzbekistan, hear our music, while we also hear what they bring with them. 
At present, there are no major international festivals of contemporary composed music, but they could become a powerful tool for supporting and developing local talent.

Bella Sabirova

Art historian Bella Sabirova draws attention to the current state of the visual arts and, despite its significant achievements and progress, to the fact that its perception is still not entirely open or fully articulated.
Bella Sabirova
Uzbek culture is moving from a stage of “self-preservation” after gaining independence to a stage of “self-presentation” on the global stage. Of course, there is a strong sense of historical continuity, where elements of the national code are actively integrated into everyday life in design, fashion, and music, now expressed in contemporary forms.
Uzbekistan is now, in a sense, repackaging its heritage, making it accessible and understandable for a new generation. And the key challenge here is to ensure that culture stops being seen as “exotic for tourists” and becomes a natural language of self-expression for Uzbekistan’s own citizens.
Contemporary art in Uzbekistan is currently experiencing a boom of institutionalisation and a large-scale entry into the international arena. Efforts are being made to ensure that it is no longer a closed, “provincial” phenomenon, but a powerful tool for artists to express themselves and engage with pressing global issues through visual exchange with the wider world.
However, to present an honest and comprehensive picture of contemporary art in Uzbekistan, it is important to highlight not only the successes but also the pain points that prevent it from becoming a fully-fledged language of self-expression for participants in the art scene: 
  • There are many institutions, but very little in-depth critical analysis of artists' work. Exhibition reviews are often reduced to complimentary press releases. Without rigorous critical writing, it is difficult for artists to grow and for audiences to learn to distinguish meaningful work from decorative surface.
  • Artists often face the temptation, or market pressure, to present exoticism as a unique artistic statement. Here lies the risk of falling into the orientalism trap, where national imagery is used not as meaning but as decorative packaging for a Western market. This closes off the search for genuinely new ideas.
  • There is a vast gap between the capital and the regions. The art boom remains concentrated in Tashkent, Samarkand and Bukhara. Outside these centres, contemporary art barely exists as an organised field. Talented young people in the regions often lack exposure, access to current resources and libraries.
  • The private art market remains underdeveloped. Despite the presence of galleries, a culture of private collecting of contemporary and especially conceptual art has yet to take hold. Artists remain heavily dependent on state commissions, foundations or occasional foreign buyers, which limits their creative freedom.
  • Academic education remains conservative. Art institutions tend to stay within academic frameworks rooted in early twentieth-century avant-garde or decorative arts traditions. Young artists are largely self-taught when it comes to performance, video art and installation, as the formal education system is slow to adapt to new media.
  • There is also the fragility of self-censorship. Discussions of urgent global issues frequently run into unspoken limits. Artists are not always willing to address sensitive social or environmental topics for fear of losing institutional support.
Thus, in order to prevent the ambitious project of cultural revival from turning into “exported exoticism”, the community will need to build a living ecosystem, from education reform and regional talent development to independent art criticism and a functioning art market. Only by acknowledging these internal barriers can contemporary Uzbekistan art finally cease to be an object of external observation and become a true mirror for itself, a voice that can be genuinely heard across the world.

Vyacheslav Akhunov

Philosopher and conceptual artist Vyacheslav Akhunov reflects on the challenges that culture and art in Uzbekistan face today, and draws attention to the conditions that need to be created for those working in the arts.
Judging by what we see, attempts to find new contemporary forms of national culture and art are still at an early stage, progressing with difficulty, slowly and with a certain inertia, far more slowly than they should. Without a cultural revolution, without overcoming colonial consciousness and neo-Orientalism, and without reforming the education system, which today largely reflects conformist thinking, any effort to develop new artistic forms and modern ways of thinking in Uzbekistan is bound to fail, however much that failure may be masked by various simulations. At the same time, there are clear breakthroughs. I am referring to the work of the Centre for Contemporary Art and the Art and Culture Development Foundation under the President of Uzbekistan.
As for the distinctiveness of Uzbekistan's traditional national culture, it has long secured its place within the global cultural landscape alongside other major cultures of the world.
It is still too early to speak of the distinctiveness of a new contemporary culture, as it is only just taking shape. That distinctiveness must be created step by step, by building creative potential. This means giving serious attention to artists and the infrastructures that support them, and investing generously in their work when it becomes competitive and memorable not only regionally but globally. This, in turn, becomes a defining hallmark of a country moving along the path of renewal and far-reaching reform, not only in culture and the arts.

Lola Sayfi

Designer and art director Lola Sayfi closes the discussion by framing the choice Uzbekistan faces today.
I believe Uzbek art is currently at a very rare and important juncture. We are all standing at a crossroads between memory and the formation of a new creative language. On one hand, we have an incredibly strong tradition: craftsmanship, ornament, architecture, textiles, the whole rhythm of life. On the other, a generation has emerged that wants not just to preserve culture, but to rethink it and then live within it. I would call this not a search for identity, but a moment of choice.
Because today there are two paths. The first is the safe one, where culture becomes a decorative element: recognisable, beautiful, but in some sense static. The second is more complex, but alive, where culture becomes material for new expression. That is when things emerge that continue the past rather than simply copy it.
And it seems to me that we are standing right on the boundary between these two approaches.

What will help?

  • respect for roots without fear of rethinking them. 
  • openness to new ideas and even to criticism.
  • strong local communities where craftspeople, designers and artists work together.
  • and, crucially for the entire creative community, engagement with the international context without losing distinctiveness.

What might stand in the way?

  • the desire to please everyone and dissolve into global trends.
  • interference and censorship by those far removed from the arts in addressing the problems of that art.
  • the transformation of culture into a decorative tourist product.
  • the absence of a sustainable economic framework around the arts.
Because, paradoxical as it may sound, distinctiveness is best preserved where it becomes a value, including an economic one.
And in short:
Uzbek art today is not searching for itself. It is deciding whether it will be alive.