Kurdish Artists Revive a Culture Under Threat
From jewelry inspired by lost motifs to card decks retelling Kurdish legends, a new generation of artists across Iraqi Kurdistan is reclaiming identity through tradition.
There was never any doubt that Naska Rifaat would become an artist. As a child, she turned her clothes into a canvas, daubing shoes, rucksacks, and jackets with vivid designs. When her attention turned to jewelry, she channeled this artistic flair into striking collections, building a brand inspired by the color and creativity of Kurdish culture.
“In the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, people wear a lot of jewelry, but I don’t see any color. It’s all gold,” said Rifaat.
Scouring history books for art with a story, she unearths forgotten heritage to inspire contemporary pieces. “I search for traditional art that has been lost, then redesign it into jewelry,” she added.
The success of her brand, Nask, signifies the appetite for local design in a region increasingly dominated by imported goods and foreign trends. Commodities worth $15 billion were imported into the KRI in 2022, according to data from the Kurdistan region’s trade and industry ministry, up from $7 billion in 2021.
Entrepreneurs like Rifaat are resisting the onslaught of mass-produced merchandise, often from Turkey and Iran, with hand-made pieces that draw on a longstanding tradition of Kurdish craftmanship. They aim to celebrate and preserve Kurdish culture through products that resonate with modern consumers.
“If nobody works on this art, then people won’t know about it, so this jewelry is about raising awareness of our heritage to a new generation,” Rifaat said.
In the northern city of Duhok, another artist hopes to connect Kurds to their roots by illustrating their shared history. His canvas—a deck of cards—transforms a popular pastime into a tapestry of Kurdish folklore.
Each card bears a different illustration, from the legendary blacksmith Kawa who overthrew a murderous emperor, to the narcissus flower that grows on the hillsides of Kurdistan in spring, and ushers in the festival of Nawruz to mark the new year.
“The new generation is very drawn to Western and Eastern cultures. We need to protect our traditions and remind them of our history, not by telling them but by showing them through art,” said digital designer Kawa Safar Hameed.
Rifaat and Hameed are part of a burgeoning movement of young Kurds harnessing creative talents to celebrate their identity. Previous generations have taken up arms to defend Kurdish interests and protect their community from persecution. Now, a new generation is replacing weapons with art as they turn to tradition, drawing from a rich history in the region that dates back centuries.
It’s a history marked by decades of abuse as different groups sought to undermine Kurdish influence and erase their identity. Relentless persecution, from Saddam Hussein’s Anfal campaign in the 1980s to the assault by ISIS in 2014, has left gaping holes in Kurdish communities. Amid the collective trauma of ethnic cleansing, statelessness, and forced deportations, Iraqi Kurds have fought to protect their culture and assert their right to self-rule.
“We have to educate people about our cultures and ensure they don’t forget our history. We can do this by showing them through art,” added Hameed.
He has printed 1000 packs of his Kurdish-themed cards and sold almost all of them. Now he plans to start work on a collection of Assyrian designs to celebrate another minority community in Iraq.
Further south, in a city known as the cultural capital of Kurdistan, Sisters Kashan and Heshaw Osman launched a ceramics business after taking a class in college. Their delicate jewellery and homeware designs draw on the art of Deq—an ancient form of tattooing that once adorned the faces, necks, and hands of Kurdish women.
For many, it was a way of celebrating their life story, with different motifs to represent birth, marriage, and other life events.
Today, the time-honoured practice is dying out, but familiar Deq symbols have found new expression in the work of artists like the Osman sisters.
“Most younger people know little of this traditio,n and older generations worry that these old aspects of Kurdish culture are fading,” Kashan Osman said. “It’s important to bring our nation’s culture into this work and use art to tell our stories.”
Their ceramic necklaces start from $8, while candle holders begin at $15. “People in Suli (Sulaymaniye) appreciate handmade products. It’s a good place to start a creative enterprise,” she added.
Sulaymaniye is home to a vibrant artistic community. A repurposed tobacco factory in the heart of the city has become a hub for creative pursuits, from photography and cinema screenings to 3D printing and fashion design.
Overcoming opposition from big businesses, a group of like-minded artists managed to secure management rights to the building—a piece of heritage in its own right that dates back to the 1950s. Despite scant funding, they are sustaining the factory for artists as independent cultural spaces close in the city amid a lack of political support and economic decline.
“Protecting places like the Culture Factory is essential because they provide a rare and much-needed home for artistic and cultural production,” said Bnwar Abdulrahman. “Losing such spaces would weaken the city’s cultural fabric and its role as a beacon for creative and democratic expression in the region.”
Sustaining a small business can be arduous work, with bureaucratic hurdles and high operating costs presenting a formidable barrier to young artists in the KRI. Despite these challenges, Rifaat has successfully evolved her enterprise into a business generating a monthly revenue of between $4,000 and $5,000, with approximately $1,500 to $2,000 of this revenue being profit.
Her target market is Kurdistan, but she is planning to expand to the rest of Iraq by weaving the traditions of Mesopotamia and Babylonia into her designs. “We have a lot of ancient history in this region. I want to find the art that holds that history,” she says.
She would like to sell her pieces internationally, but PayPal and other payment service providers like Apple Pay and Stripe are not available in Iraq. In addition, shipping costs around $80 per half kilo—more than the price of the jewelry itself.
“The system does not support small businesses in Iraq to sell to the global market,” says Rifaat, who is looking into an alternative distribution channel through a friend in Germany.
Despite a government pledge to improve the environment for small businesses in Kurdistan, significant obstacles remain. A decrease in the price of registering new company names has made one part of the process cheaper, but the overall cost and time required to launch a business remain prohibitive.
Unlike many startups in Kurdistan, Rifaat took the step of formally registering her business several years ago. The process cost around $3,000 and took over a year to complete. “For a lot of people, their start-up is a side business, but this is my life, and I never wanted to do anything else. I spend all day working on my business, so I knew I had to take this step and make it official,” Rifaat says.
After completing multiple business courses with accelerators and incubators in Kurdistan and Dubai, she chose not to seek opportunities with investors.
“If I have pressure from an investor, then my soul will not be free to be truly creative,” says Rifaat, who credits the success of her business to the passion that drives it. “This is my dream job and ultimately, it’s about the art.”
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