STORIES FROM THE ATELIER: YELAI
- eliane de luca peres
- May 31
- 3 min read
my first contact with assemgul, founder of the brand yelai, took place quite recently, but i immediately sensed her deep commitment to her art, which is firmly rooted in her culture and traditions.
i must admit i knew very little about kazakhstan and, as i love to learn, i began reading more about the country and its people. it is fascinating in many aspects: geographically, it is the ninth-largest country in the world, yet it also has one of the lowest population densities. it is a land rich in minerals, most notably iron and silver. from assemgul, i learned that silver is considered a sacred metal, believed to bring protection and well-being. i have also learned that horses are central to kazakhstan's history and identity, symbolizing freedom and the nomadic heritage of the steppe.
over the course of many emails, we have shared stories about our love for jewelry and our respective origins. her dream is to visit europe, and more specifically france — i do hope we can meet here one day.
it has been a truly enriching experience to glimpse her world through her beautiful and intentional jewelry. assemgul is a true one-woman show, responsible for every aspect of her brand. i am certain we will be hearing much more about both assemgul and yelai in the years to come. one more thing; the story behind the mergen ring (shown above) is so rich and meaningful
as it was created with archery in mind - read more about this on her website!
I am a Kazakh artist and jeweller working from my small atelier in Almaty. My practice is rooted in the history of the Kazakh people, nomadic culture, and broader Turkic heritage.
I studied fine arts, and for as long as I can remember, art has been the way I understand the world - through painting, sculpture, cinema, and music.
Jewellery, however, was never part of a planned path. It appeared unexpectedly during my studies, when I first entered a jewellery workshop. I remember being struck by traditional Kazakh jewellery - its depth, its clarity, and the sense that every element had meaning. Nothing was accidental. Ornament, form, proportion - everything carried a special intention. Jewellery was never just decorative, it reflected a person's status, his story, protection, memory, blessing, and identity. It felt like a language without words.
What continues to guide me most is the jewellery tradition of Western Kazakhstan - the region where I come from myself. I feel deeply connected to its strong silhouettes, darker tones combined with silver, sculptural weight, and intricate grain work. There is a sense of monumentality in these pieces that feels almost architectural. In Kazakh culture, silver was also believed to carry protective and healing qualities, which adds another layer of meaning - the idea that material itself can hold symbolism.
I started very simply, making pieces for myself. I still remember my first enamel ring - imperfect and uneven, but honest. I wore it every day, and slowly made a few more.
Then something shifted. People around me began to notice the pieces I wear and ask about them. At first, I didn’t fully understand why they responded so strongly to something so personal. But their attention encouraged me to continue. What began as a small private experiment gradually turned into something larger than I expected.
Soon after, I created a small series and presented it at a local pop-up event. That moment quietly marked the beginning of a different path - one I had not planned, but somehow already belonged to me.
Since then, everything has grown step by step. I built my workshop from almost nothing, learned the technical side of jewellery making along the way, and developed my practice independently.
Today, I work entirely on my own - from concept and sketch to production and final direction. Every piece passes through my hands at every stage.
There is always a moment when I realise that a ring, or any piece I create, will eventually become part of someone’s life and carry meaning far beyond the object itself. I feel this very deeply, and that is why I approach every piece with particular care and attention. Jewellery often becomes tied to memory, identity, emotion, or a personal chapter in someone’s life - and knowing this changes the way I work. Sometimes, I even feel the presence or energy of its future owner before the piece leaves my hands.
What moves me most is how jewellery can create a quiet connection for people - to memory, to identity, to something personal and often unspoken. This feeling resonates not only with people in Kazakhstan, but also far beyond it.
Through my work, I continue to explore how something so small can still carry an entire world.
