How Uzbek Culture Inspired J. Kim and Anton Belinskiy’s Show

“Tightrope artists always seem to be on the verge of falling,” muses Jenia Kim, founder of the Uzbekistan-based label J. Kim. Yet, she adds, the act requires considerable strength: the apparent vulnerability of walking through empty space belies “great skill, agility and strength of character.” It’s a delicate balance, and it serves as a central metaphor for the brand’s new collection in collaboration with Anton BelinskiFor them, Darbozi’s Uzbek art of tightrope walking has become a symbol, Kim explains, of the balance “between strength and vulnerability, between Anton and me, between different perspectives and points of view.”

On a cloudy day in May, that symbol came to life in the quiet courtyard of Tashkent’s Abul Kasim Madrasa, where real tightrope walkers—from the Central Asian Traveling Circus—plied their trade on the first J.Kim x Anton Belinskiy runway. Beneath those swaying bodies, a parade of models showcased the new collection, which echoed the circus theme (see: conical hats and multi-colored flag patterns) as well as layered versions of J.Kim’s signature petal cutouts and nods to traditional Uzbek culture.

“Traditional” is a tricky word in Tashkent, the Uzbek capital. The city’s history is one of radical upheaval, from its destruction by Genghis Khan in the 13th century, to its rebirth as a Silk Road hub, and decades of Soviet rule. Today, as Central Asia’s most populous city, it wears the marks of those revolutions on its sleeve. Mansions decorated with traditional Uzbek craftsmanship sit alongside towering Brutalist and Islamic architecture. It’s all connected by a Soviet-style subway system with domed ceilings, themed murals, and multi-colored tiles.

In this multicultural mix, J. Kim’s studio stands out. Set in an unassuming courtyard, the space is bright, white, and airy, devoid of the usual technicolor embellishments. Instead, the city’s character is captured in the mood boards that adorn the walls of Kim’s workspace, which are layered with local iconography: haystacks of bread, rows of gold teeth, and swatches of bekasam. And then, of course, there are the clothes from the latest collection. The Tightrope of Friendshipthat marry local dress codes with oversized silhouettes and photographic prints straight out of Belinskiy’s wheelhouse.

Kim explains that “much of the collection is inspired by life in Tashkent,” where both designers lived and worked throughout the design process. (Belinskiy typically splits time between Paris and kyiv, where he was born and raised. Kim was born into a Koryo-saram, or Soviet-Korean, family in Uzbekistan.) Here, “inspiration” means playing with the fashions of the Uzbek capital, from striped silks and bands of gemstones to the clothes themselves: sleek headdresses and pants layered over skirts, reimagined in J. Kim’s striking “Lazzat” silhouette. But it also meant a more abstract interpretation of the city’s sights and sounds.

The collection’s accessories, for example, are directly inspired by the charms, rosaries and air fresheners hanging from taxi mirrors. The abundance of Chevrolets, almost ubiquitous in Tashkent due to a local factory and high import rates, is reflected in the prints of cars and car headlights, pushed to the point of abstraction on silk shirts.

This brings us back to the setting of the show: the Madrasa Abul Kasim. While the flying flags imprinted with peace slogans referenced broader global concerns, the building itself was chosen with deeply personal connections in mind.“It was important to us to create a peaceful environment that would convey feelings of harmony and balance within oneself,” Kim says. “And this madrasa has always calmed me. It’s an island of peace.”

It’s also a place that places a strong emphasis on craft, where male artisans gather to work on their creations and—in Kim’s own words—“seem to enter a state of meditation through their craft.” As a stage for Kim and Anton Belinskiy, the place brings out a number of dualities: between the personal and the political, past and future, playful and serious, different cultures and creations, and states of mind. In the end, it all comes down to balance, that unifying blend of strength and vulnerability. It is here, as Kim puts it, that the “deep connections” of all humanity lie, even (or especially) in these precarious times.