When the Stone Begins to Speak: Vladislav Kim on the project "Tanbaly: Code of the Ancestors"
There is a heritage that we are accustomed to perceiving as something immobile: as an archive, as a monument, as a frozen testimony of the past. It is protected, studied, described, placed in a scientific and museum context. But the true life of culture begins at the moment when the past ceases to be merely an object of preservation and once again becomes a form of conversation. Not a noisy, not declarative, but a deep and internal one.This very conversation is at the heart of the project "Tangbali: The Code of the Ancestors," presented at the Abylkhan Kasteyev National Museum of Art. This exhibition invites us to view the famous petroglyphs not only as an archaeological heritage of exceptional value, but also as a unique figurative language through which ancient people spoke of the world, nature, time, the sky, and their own place in the universe. Here, stone is not a surface, but a memory. And the image is not a sign of the past, but a living form of presence. The joint project between the Tanbaly Museum-Reserve and photographer Vladislav Kim is based on a principle rare in today's visual world: not substituting an effect for the original. Instead, modern technology, artistic optics, and a digital environment are needed to carefully bring the viewer closer to the original without disturbing its inner silence. This is not an attempt to "renew" antiquity, but a desire to relearn how to see it.We spoke with Vladislav Kim about how this vision is born, why light becomes part of the artistic method, and the true challenge of working with such material.— When did petroglyphs cease to be simply part of the landscape for you and become an artistic statement?— During my expeditions in Kazakhstan, I often encountered petroglyphs, but for a very long time I didn't perceive them as objects of genuine artistic expression. I photographed landscapes, traditions, and the lives of people in remote regions, and tried to show them not as documentary footage, but as images, as visual stories, as paintings. But with petroglyphs, things were different. For a long time, I couldn't truly see them as art.The turning point came when I visited the Tanbaly Museum-Reserve and met people who study petroglyphs. There, I saw something I hadn't noticed before in other places. It's difficult to describe rationally, because the sensation was almost physical, energetic—like an internal click. I photographed one of the petroglyphs, and later, when I was home, I stared at the frame for a long time. And at some point, the image seemed to begin to emerge, like film once developed. Then I understood what the final image should be.I guess it was from that moment that I began to perceive the petroglyph not simply as an ancient symbol, but as a form of life, an image that can still speak.- The theme of authenticity is very important in your approach. How can we translate the language of petroglyphs into a modern visual form without destroying it?For me, this is a fundamental question. The most important thing is not to compromise the originality of the petroglyph even by a single pixel. I don't change its shape, I don't interfere with the design, I don't rework it for modern perception. But at the same time, the very surface of the stone, the light, the structure, the texture allow us to reveal the depth of the image and concentrate its color.In photography, this can be compared to developing and fine-tuning color, where you don't create something new, but rather reveal what already exists. That is, you don't invent an image, but rather allow it to emerge. Later, I returned to Tangbaly and spent several days there, developing my own shooting technique. And I quickly realized that the key element here is the sun.It is the light—its angle, intensity, and precise timing—that allows the petroglyph to reveal itself. The sun's rays, falling on the stone, intensify the color and literally bring the image to life. After more than six months of working with this material, I've come to the conclusion that a petroglyph can't be shown as a static image. It must be perceived as an image that can speak to the viewer.It's important to me that when a person encounters such a work, they don't simply look at it, but engage in a dialogue with it. And this truly happens. There have been cases where people have found their own experiences, their own meanings, a personal response, even answers to inner questions in these images. One person sees one thing, another something completely different. And this, I believe, is the power of a petroglyph: it isn't exhausted by a first glance, but continues to unfold over time, like a living story.— So, in your work, light is not just a technical requirement, but almost a co-creator?— Yes, absolutely. Filming in Tangbaly is a complex process that requires extensive preparation. The constant wind, the cold, the lack of water—all of this directly impacts the work. But the main factor isn't the daily challenges, but rather the natural conditions: the sky, clouds, air temperature, and, of course, the light.Sometimes I had to return to the site several times or stay overnight to catch just a few minutes of the precise light that reveals the petroglyph. Because these images aren't always easy to read on their own. At different times of day, too many unnecessary shadows appear, interfering with perception. You have to wait for the precise moment when the light falls precisely, and then the drawing begins to unfold.At the same time, I never had a predetermined scenario. For me, this isn't a project in the rigid, production sense. Rather, I followed my inner instincts about which petroglyphs to photograph and how. Sometimes I took over a hundred shots of a single image, but ultimately only one proved suitable. In such cases, a lot depends on intuition.Then there's the final stage—printing. I experimented extensively with various materials and came to the conclusion that only natural 100% cotton canvas produces the effect I was looking for. It's here that the image begins to be perceived differently, as if it gains additional depth. Furthermore, the petroglyphs themselves are often difficult to access: you have to climb, carry equipment, water, and everything else you need. There were attempts to film with a drone, but those shots weren't included in the final work. The best results only come when you're right next to the stone and working directly. Sometimes a single petroglyph takes an entire day.– These days, almost any discussion about an exhibition sooner or later leads to the topic of technology. How do you personally understand the line between modern tools and the risk of distortion?– Digital technology, like artificial intelligence, must be approached with great caution in a project like this. It's very easy to cross the line and ruin the overall impression. The viewer might decide that the works themselves were created by artificial intelligence, but for me, that would be a fundamentally incorrect perception. Petroglyphs shouldn't be distorted, because with distortion, their authenticity and the inner energy they convey are lost.Therefore, I use AI very sparingly. Only as an auxiliary tool for bringing individual stories to life, so to speak, to create a sense of the world of three thousand years ago. This can increase interest in the project, especially among children and teenagers, who need to see history in a more accessible, visually understandable form.But when it comes to an adult audience, I think it's especially important to adhere as closely as possible to the original. If we consider Tangbaly in a broader, international context, digital solutions help display the petroglyphs in urban spaces without moving the originals. Stones cannot be transported, meaning technology becomes a way to bring this heritage to a wider audience. In this sense, AI and multimedia can truly enhance the project—but only if they are used sensitively and do not replace the essence. It's crucial not to get carried away by the effect and not lose respect for the original source.— Could we say that such an exhibition is not simply a display of heritage, but a search for a new way to present it in culture?— Yes, I think so. Today, it's important not only to preserve the petroglyphs as a World Heritage site, but also to seek new forms of their presentation. Not everyone can visit the site, and we understand that a constant flow of visitors puts a strain on the environment. In this sense, exhibition and museum formats offer the opportunity, on the one hand, to reduce direct exposure to the originals and, on the other, to significantly expand the audience.Even if someone first sees the petroglyphs not in the Tanbali Museum itself, but in an exhibition, a catalog, or a museum display, this can already be the first step toward developing interest and respect for this heritage. This is very important to me. Because cultural heritage shouldn't exist solely in a narrow professional field. It must find a way to connect with people today.– In this context, what significance does the interest of the international community and UNESCO have for the project?– For me, this story was not initially a government, commercial, or institutional project. It all began as an internal impulse, a personal dialogue between me and the petroglyphs themselves. I never perceived this work as a commission. Rather, as a story that wanted to be told. Figuratively speaking, the petroglyphs themselves called and said: show us to the world. This is why it's especially important to me that the international expert community and UNESCO representatives are showing interest in the project. This provides an opportunity to place Tangbaly in a broader cultural context, making it recognizable not only among specialists but also among a wider audience.Speaking of international standards, I still perceive this project primarily as an artistic statement, not as a scientific methodology. It is based on respect for the original and a desire not to distort it. But UNESCO's attention is extremely important here, simply because it gives the project international weight and helps to speak about Tangbaly as living cultural heritage in a contemporary language.– How do you envision the continuation of this work? Can contemporary art become a true bridge between heritage and a new audience?– I think so. Moreover, I'm already building a systematic approach around this idea. The VXN Gallery has been established in Almaty, and its main goal is to generate sustainable international interest in the Tangbaly petroglyphs and this layer of cultural heritage in general. For me, this isn't a one-time project, but a long-term strategy aimed at achieving a global presence.Today, we're developing not only the artistic direction—the photographs themselves—but also creating related formats: collectibles and gift items, small art objects, and accessories inspired by petroglyphs. This allows us to expand our audience and make our heritage more accessible in various forms.Looking forward, we're considering international promotion: new exhibitions, opening galleries, and engaging with international audiences. But the key goal, of course, is much broader. I'd like to see a full-fledged petroglyph museum established in Kazakhstan—not just an exhibition space, but a comprehensive center that would tell about the environment in which they arose, the culture, and the way of life of the people of those eras.Ideally, this should also be a research center, combining work not only on Tangbaly but also on other petroglyphs in Kazakhstan. This is a major undertaking; it requires time, resources, and like-minded people. But it's precisely projects like these, I believe, that shape the future, where contemporary art becomes not just an adornment to heritage, but a bridge between it and the global cultural space.
