What does a carpet featuring Kazakhstan’s national poet, a Soviet-era award for skillful bulldozing and a religious icon of St. George slaying a dragon have in common? TU global studies professor Jeremy Tasch.  

“I like unusual things,” he says. “The objects I collect need to have some interesting historical resonance. I particularly like those that were in use in everyday life but still have some mystery to them.” 

His foray into collecting began while he was doing research in Siberia. He met a retired watchmaker who, over the course of their friendship, taught him the intricacies of all types of watches.  

Carpet featuring Kazakhstan's national poet
A carpet featuring Kazakhstan's national poet.

Tasch’s early career featured stops in Azerbaijan, the republics of Georgia and Armenia as well as the Russian Far East, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. When he joined academia in the U.S. in the mid-2010s, Tasch decorated his office with objects from his vast collection, sourced mostly from the Caucasus region of Asia. 

“When [students] walk in, they pause and usually forget why they came to see me,” he says. “And some look around and go, ‘Wow, this looks like Indiana Jones' office.”

The carpet was a gift after a lecture in Kazakhstan.  

“When I received it, a faculty member stood up immediately and exclaimed, ‘He's an American. He doesn't know what to do with a rug. He's going to walk on it.’ I promised to hang it on my office wall. And as ugly as that carpet is, it’s still there.” 

The objects I collect need to have some interesting historical resonance. I particularly like those that were in use in everyday life but still have some mystery to them.

Jeremy Tasch, TU global studies professor

He found the bulldozing award in Vladivostok, Russia. 

“The fact there is such a prize is crazy, and I thought it was really a cool cultural, historical object,” he says. 

Soviet-era award for skillful bulldozing
religious icon of St. George slaying a dragon

(1) A Soviet-era bulldozing award. (2) An icon of St. George slaying a dragon.

The 19th-century icon, measuring just several square inches, came from Tbilisi, Georgia. It would have hung on the wall, opposite a door in a family’s home. 

“It's been worn away,” he says, running his fingers over the engraving. “To show gratefulness or ask for protection, the family would have either rubbed or kissed the icon.” 

For Tasch, the carpet, award and icon have a distinct connection. 

“Each one comes from not only a different time but a different place. And, to me, they represent the times of my life when I was in those places.”