A Famed Art Form Falters
In the northern reaches of Kabul, just forty six kilometers from the capital, lies the charming village of Istalif. This place once captured the imagination of Babur, founder of the Mughal Empire, which ruled the Indian subcontinent from 1526 to 1857. In his diary, Babur once mused that “no place in the world is known to have such a good climate as Kabul.” Among the gently rolling hills and lush orchards, Babur hosted indulgent parties in the rose gardens of his summer residence. But nature’s bounty isn’t the only treasure found in this region.
A Timeless Craft
It is here that some of the world’s most distinctive pottery is crafted. The village, surrounded by deposits of rich, malleable clay, attracted the Uzbeks, who introduced ceramic art to Istalif more than 400 years ago. Pottery is a family tradition, passed down from generation to generation. In his book Bazaar Politics, political anthropologist Noah Coburn observes how innate this skill is to the community,
“In Istalif, potters never really had to learn how to make pots—they simply knew.”
How It’s Made
Clay is sourced from the hills surrounding the village and transported to workshops in truck beds or piled onto the backs of donkeys. Using their feet, makers soften hunks of raw earth, tempering it with plant fibers and massaging it smooth. Coburn offers a portrait of this labor-intensive process,
“...young men cleaned the clay, sieved and mixed it with gul-e loch, a plant similar to a bulrush or cat-o-nine-tails. Adding water, they used their feet to mix the clay for up to four hours. This slow, laborious task demanded a good deal of attention–too little gul-e loch and the clay was not pliable, too much and it burned in the kiln, creating imperfections in the pots.”
Such is the potter's task; to meld organic matter with a deft hand and keen eye.
With the aid of an apprentice, typically an oldest son or brother, master ceramicists begin to shape amorphous matter into a vessel of their choosing. Though potters shape their vessels into various forms, their creations (with some exceptions such as brown and yellow) are almost always one color, blue.
Azure, cerulean, cobalt, aqua, teal, sea foam, turquoise—each with its own subtle quality and shade. This distinctive glaze was traditionally extracted from ishkar, a plant endemic to the area. To produce the glaze, potters burn the ishkar root, grind it into a fine powder, and mix it with water to create a paste. This paste is then combined with locally sourced quartz and copper oxide, which, after firing, results in a vivid blue finish. However, most glazes are now purchased in local markets.
After hardening under the sun’s gaze, potters delicately stack the semi-dried pieces into a wood-fired kiln where apprentices tend to the flames with stoic vigilance. The first firing removes residual water and strengthens the clay, the second births the color. As the kiln engulfs the forms with heat and pressure, the glaze is rendered brilliant blue. Another iconic piece of Istalif pottery is born.
Although this craft might be perceived as male dominated, women play an important role in the decorative process, applying the glaze and engraving delicate patterns with sharpened portions of metal or tooth combs. Much of village life is centered on the time-honored tradition of transfiguring earthen clay into functional art.
A Once Thriving Industry, Now Threatened
Elder ceramicists may remember the days before the Taliban’s initial rise to power. But most remember how the industry was nearly snuffed when the village was sacked and burned in the 1990s. The potters were said to have buried their tools and fled. After the fall of the Taliban regime, they returned from their exile and the industry saw a brief period of revival, buoyed by foreign investment and development projects. In recent years, pottery production has again suffered a significant decline. Waning local interest, the Taliban’s resurgence, and the subsequent evaporation of foreign clients have coalesced into dire circumstances, decimating the Afghan economy and leaving this idyllic village reeling from the fallout.
Many makers face barriers to commercializing their products abroad and contend with a feeling that Istalif, and Afghanistan at large, has been abandoned. With little hope and dwindling resources, many are abandoning the trade.
But not all potters have given up. Some still cling to the old ways. With generations of ceramic knowledge and a legacy to uphold, artisan’s persist. Perhaps, in time, what once was can be again.
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Artijaan is committed to fostering sustainable livelihoods through the preservation of Afghanistan’s cultural heritage and traditional craftsmanship. In an effort to preserve this storied craft, we have partnered with local artisans, buying their stock and co-creating pieces for international sale. You can support these artisans by purchasing their pottery or donating on our website.
