When I was still in college, I used to spent hours studying the atlas of the world. My attention was drawn to a state with a mysterious name – Kyrgyzstan. I immediately felt the urge to go there and see this country for myself, a goal which I achieved in 2007.
At first I saw countless mountain ranges surrounded by an austere landscape. At second glance I saw soft, green fields and pastures with lots of white freckle-like dots – nomads’ yurts.
At night, under the starry sky, you felt as if it were on the top of the world, high enough to reach out for one of those stars.
A Kyrgyz does not leave his horse. The mentality of a wanderer who follows his horse behind a herd of animals. The severity of the mountains, the severity of the faces upon which the history of life is etched by the wind, the cold and the sharp sunshine. Deep wrinkles from the paths frequented by generations. From pasture to pasture.
Curator: Karolina Krzywicka