“Painting is poetry embodied in color and form.” For Kazakh artist Zhenisbek Uteshov, these words are more than a motto—they are a true calling. His works represent a dialogue with nature, captured in a "single breath" during plein air sessions, and a deep dive into his signature style: Fuantalism. In this interview, Zhenisbek shares his story—from his first steps in art to the international stage—explaining how the spirit of the steppe and raw intuition guide the master’s hand to create living, breathing canvases.
Zhenisbek, you describe painting as “poetry and a calling.” How did your journey in art begin, and what inspired you to choose painting as your primary form of self-expression?
To me, painting truly is poetry. Just as poets compose verses or songs, I give birth to paintings in my studio. To be honest, I didn’t initially expect to become an artist. After the 11th grade, I simply enrolled in the Faculty of Painting without fully knowing where it would lead. But over time, while studying in the pedagogical department, I realized that professional painting was my life’s work. Nature, where I often go to work, became my primary source of inspiration.
What is Fuantalism, and how did you come to create this symbolic style? What are the core principles of this signature method?
Fuantalism is a pointillist technique. I developed it because I was looking for a way to stand out. I saw many artists using palette knives, spatulas, or standard brushstrokes. I wanted to find a unique method. I started experimenting—one painting, then another—and I became truly fascinated. In this technique, I paint with dots, and sometimes I lightly go over the canvas with a dry brush to create a specific atmospheric effect. This became the foundation of my signature style.
Tell us about your working method. You’ve said that “the hands move by themselves, and the canvas tells you where to place the stroke.” How does this intuition balance with the need for technical control?
At the beginning of my path, I worked extensively with sketches, reflecting for a long time and making many corrections. But after a while, I felt as if I “opened up.” Now, I paint without sketches, relying on my inner vision. Technique now follows intuition: I simply look at the canvas and feel where the stroke should land. The process has become more alive and immediate.
What does plein air mean to you, and why do you call it “life, air, and breaths”? How different is a work born outdoors compared to studio painting?
Plein air helps me “clear my palette” and find new colors and ideas. In nature, I see forms differently: rivers, trees, seasonal changes—all of this provides an incredible gamut. In the studio, I work more reflectively, but during plein air, I paint in “one moment,” pouring my feelings onto the cardboard or canvas. I might alter forms—making them more rounded or oval—to convey the very essence of air and life. For me, plein air is inspiration in a single breath.
Your work blends the national traditions of Kazakhstan with modern artistic trends. How do you find this balance, and how is it reflected in your use of color and form?
In my work, there is no direct use of Kazakh ornaments, but the spirit of our steppe lives within them—the beauty of flat horizons and the energy of the wind. I look for unusual forms in nature: twisted trees or unique lines in a landscape become dear to my heart, and I transfer them to the canvas, adjusting the style and plasticity. I strive to paint so that my perspective remains original and unlike any other.
What emotions and ideas do you seek to convey, and what is more important to you—technique, emotion, or the interaction with the viewer?