A Living Tradition: 40 Years of Love for Woodcarving in Zingiber Atelier

There are stories that don’t begin with a business plan, but with heritage, faith, and a deep connection to tradition. Zingiber Atelier is exactly that kind of story—family-driven, authentic, and shaped by decades of dedication to wood carving. With roots stretching back more than 40 years, this atelier is not just a place where wooden pieces are created, but a space where craftsmanship becomes art, and art becomes a spiritual expression.

In this interview, we speak with the Milevi family about their journey, the meaning of tradition, their creative process, and the love they pour into every piece they create.

How did the story of Zingiber Atelier begin, and what does a tradition of over 40 years mean to you?

The story of Zingiber began long before the official opening of the atelier. It started in the childhood of the woodcarver Marjan, born in 1964, with a father from Kavadarci and a mother from Lazaropole. From a very young age, little Marjan helped his father craft various wooden items—wardrobes, cabinets, chairs, tables, and more.

On his mother’s side, according to stories told by elders in Lazaropole, his ancestor was Gjurchin Kokale (1775–1863), one of the first Macedonian revivalists and public figures. He established the first school in 1861, where the people of Lazaropole were educated. He was a protector of Christians, credited with helping many Islamized Christians return to their faith. He also supported the arts, particularly painting. According to local stories, other ancestors of Marjan were involved in fresco painting and wood carving.

Marjan says his father was among the first carpenters in Kavadarci, and that he himself learned to work with chisels and machines from an early age. This means that for over 40 years, wood has been part of the Milevi family’s daily life—first as a craft, then as art, and ultimately as a spiritual calling.

His first encounter with woodcarving came around 1990, during the restoration of the St. Spas monastery above Kavadarci. When he wanted to buy an icon for health, happiness, and prosperity for his home, the monastery asked for money he didn’t have at the time. So, he drew the image of Jesus Christ on wood as an icon and gifted it to the monastery.

Before he began carving, Marjan experienced visions—so he was told by elders—of a saint with a white beard. The saint spoke to him while he lay in a temple, on a floor of carved and arranged stones. At first, the voice was calm, then louder and louder until it would wake him. This happened almost every night between 11 PM and 1 AM, over a period of one to two years. Following advice from elders, he would bring oil, a shirt, a cloth, or some offering to the church—but the dream kept repeating.

At that time, Marjan worked as a fire protection engineer and safety specialist at the Tikveš winery. In the early 1990s, as today, the Epiphany tradition of throwing the cross into water was held at the city pool. On January 11th, while at work, he asked his director to go home. When he arrived, he saw the priest from the St. Dimitrija church in Kavadarci holding the painted icon intended for St. Spas, asking who had made it.

The priest then asked him if he could make a wooden cross to be thrown into the pool. Marjan agreed but admitted he didn’t know what the cross looked like. Although he passed by the church every day, he had never paid attention—some crosses are straight, others rounded, and there are differences between Orthodox and Catholic crosses. At that time, he was not particularly religious; he didn’t go to church and wasn’t even married in church to his wife Mina.

He asked to see what the cross looked like, so the priest took him inside the church and showed him a plaster cross with the image of Jesus Christ. When Marjan returned to work, he requested time off but didn’t explain why, out of embarrassment. His leave was approved, and he began preparing to make the cross for St. Dimitrija. It took him three days and three nights to complete—without sleep, something he still cannot explain.

Using three chisels, he carved the cross and brought it to the church on the night it was to be blessed. The recurring dream that had troubled him for so long disappeared. He became a believer—with a pure heart, full of faith, love, and hope, and deep gratitude for being alive and well. That night, Marjan finally slept peacefully.

“I have such strength within me that many people think I’m naive. But naivety has nothing to do with goodness. I realized that the goal is not whether you are religious… far from it. We all go to church and make the sign of the cross. What matters is to have faith—to believe in something that protects you. It’s a beautiful feeling. That’s why I started carving. I simply strike the wood, and while carving I say my prayer—I don’t even see what I’m doing. People don’t believe me. I just don’t see… I can’t explain it. Something guides me,” says Marjan.

From that moment on, he made an effort to carve the image of Jesus Christ—and succeeded. That became his first icon.

One day, the grandfather of boxer Ace Rusevski came and commissioned “The Last Supper.” Until then, Marjan had only done shallow carving of Jesus Christ, so this was a major challenge. As a young married couple with limited means, they needed wood material for other carpentry work. The grandfather agreed to provide it. After two months, instead of the agreed two cubic meters, he brought six—and in return received his carved icon, “The Last Supper.”

After countless events, many more orders followed. Most of them were icons, which Marjan carved in a single breath. These were often gifts for friends and acquaintances—Christians who believed that the icon, or the saint, would protect their homes with happiness, health, and prosperity. According to Marjan, giving icons helps people find inner peace and blessing, and in turn makes him spiritually richer and happier, as he gains new friendships. If you give something to someone and know it makes them happy—isn’t that beautiful?

The inspiration and passion for woodcarving continued, and his wife Mina became involved. She also learned to carve and has already surpassed her teacher in shallow carving. They are both deeply happy to share this journey and are gradually passing the craft on to their children. The family of woodcarvers consists of Marjan, Mina, and their children Angela and Goran.

They began discussing the challenges in preserving and implementing tradition through customs, crafts, and ways of life. A spark of hope emerged, turning into harmony and organized effort. They adapted the upper part of their house into an exhibition space for works that had never been displayed before—pieces that had long been covered in dust.

Zingiber, as a space, was born during the COVID pandemic, when they transformed an abandoned attic into a place filled with light, tradition, and hope. For them, tradition is not just inheritance—it is a responsibility to preserve and pass on. Five years after officially opening the atelier, they often received comments like: “It’s a shame how little we know about what we have in our country.” That inspired them to share their story more openly.

Marjan and Mina say: As proud parents of two children, Angela and Goran, they were often told:
“Why don’t you promote your talent so people can see what you create from a piece of wood? This is truly remarkable!”
Their response was: “You are younger and more familiar with technology, so we leave that part to you.”

Unfortunately, promotion never happened—until the world suddenly stopped. The COVID pandemic struck. Some people lost loved ones, others lost jobs and hope—including them. During that time, Marjan found himself sitting on a broken chair, in a dusty attic space he called “games without borders,” feeling hopeless and lost, staring into emptiness and wondering what this space could have been.

That attic, without a proper roof, was filled with stored items kept “just in case”—like we all have. As he sat there with a tear on his cheek, his daughter Angela approached him, touched his shoulder, and said a sentence he used to tell her but had forgotten:
“When faith as small as a grain of millet gives you strength, you can move mountains.”

That was it. That was the moment. That was the hope.

The next day, while he and his wife were out of Kavadarci, they returned to find that Angela had already begun clearing the space. She greeted them with a smile that sparked something powerful. Together, the whole family got to work, dreaming that one day the pandemic would end and Zingiber would become a family story—a place for everyone.

They envisioned people coming from Macedonia and around the world, experiencing their traditions through customs, learning about Macedonian woodcarving in a unique way, hearing their story, seeing the artworks, and even trying to carve their own meaningful piece. Visitors would also taste homemade, organic specialties from the Tikveš region, prepared by Mina.

In just four months—working in August heat above 40°C, without a single day off—they created the first atelier of this kind in the Balkans. What started as a vision is now a place visited by over 1,000 guests from around the world, filled with smiles and satisfaction.

They encourage everyone: never lose hope and always follow your dreams—because faith, even as small as a grain of millet, has immense power.

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How is the craft passed down through generations in your family?

In our family, the craft is not learned only through words, but through observation, touch, and patience—from grandfather to father, from father to son. As mentioned, we are self-taught. My wife carries that artistic gene from both her father and her uncle. Her uncle, Ivan Sulev, was so talented that even Tito once collected his paintings. He could create figures from a single drop of water! Mina has such a strong sense for bringing life into a piece that she has already surpassed me. I am very proud that she embraced this craft and that we are in this together.

The most important thing is that we don’t teach only techniques, but also respect for the material, for tradition, and for the work itself,” says Marjan.

Little by little, they are passing this art on to their children. They hope that one day they will become worthy heirs of the carving they create and preserve it as a legacy for future generations.

In a time when hand carving is becoming increasingly rare, what motivates you to continue with the same level of dedication?

According to Marjan, woodcarving is the soul of the person who practices it—it is more art than craft, and the true motivation to continue comes from inner peace.

“A craftsman focuses only on satisfying the customer and selling what he has made. When I look at myself, I find it very difficult to part with my works, because each one carries a part of my soul.”

Through 40 years of experience in carving, Marjan has gained both quality and speed. However, as he says, in today’s modern way of life, one cannot rely solely on carving as an art to make a living.

“As a craftsman, I take orders and create for different people—that’s craftsmanship. But carving gives me peace. While I carve, I constantly say my prayer and disconnect from everything else. I put my soul into it. It relaxes me, fulfills me, and gives me life. That is art. Carving cannot be just a craft.”

You say that “wood speaks.” What does that mean to you as craftsmen?

Every piece of wood has its own structure, grain, and character. The more patient you are with it, the more you connect with its soul. When you hold it in your hands, you can sense where it wants to lead you. If you listen to it, it will tell you how deep you can go, where it will open, and where it might crack. We don’t try to conquer the wood—we collaborate with it.

How do you choose the wood, and why is the drying and preparation process so important?

We most often work with walnut wood because of its strength and durability. However, we also use maple, pear, and beech. The wood must be naturally dried for years. If it is not properly dried, it will warp or crack over time. Preparation is half the work—gluing, shaping, and stabilizing. Without a solid foundation, there is no quality carving.

What is the biggest challenge when working with a natural material like wood?

The challenge is its unpredictability. A machine works the same way every time, but wood does not. Every grain is different. It requires concentration, sensitivity, and above all, patience and love for the material.

What does the process look like—from a simple piece of wood to a finished souvenir?

First, the wood is selected and properly prepared through all necessary processes, including drying and protection. Then comes drawing the chosen motif—if you don’t know how to draw, you can’t carve. The process starts from the most prominent part of the motif, and then gradually moves into depth, two millimeters at a time, using tools such as chisels—transforming the surface into a three-dimensional form. It is done layer by layer. In the end, the piece is sanded, varnished, or protected with natural coatings. And finally, from a piece of wood, a story is born.

How much time is needed to create more complex works like an iconostasis or a wine cabinet?

It depends on the dimensions and the level of detail. An iconostasis can take months, even up to a year. It requires great depth and symmetry, often with over 400 motifs. Wine racks and cabinets are shorter projects, but they still demand precision and structural stability.

Which part of the process brings you the most satisfaction?

The moment when, from a flat wooden surface, a figure with expression and depth—almost like in 3D—begins to emerge. When the piece “starts to breathe.” We feel even happier when such a work ends up in the right hands—someone with a big heart who appreciates the effort and authenticity of a traditional craft that is slowly disappearing.

Which products are the most in demand—souvenirs, icons, wine racks, or personalized gifts?

The most in-demand are icons and personalized gifts (such as rakija flasks, wine boxes, reading stands for books and tea, wine racks, cigar ashtrays with holders for a glass of whiskey, etc.), especially for special occasions like weddings and anniversaries. There is also strong interest in wine-related souvenirs, particularly because of the rich tradition of the Tikveš region.

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How important is personalization for customers today?

Very important. People want something that carries personal meaning—a name, a date, a symbol. That’s what makes a piece truly priceless.

What is the most emotional or unusual request you have fulfilled so far?

Marjan considers the creation of part of the iconostasis for the Church of St. George in Lazaropole—specifically the royal doors and the portal above them—as the crown of his work so far.

“Somehow, it’s instinctive for a person to be drawn to the place they come from…” says Marjan.

On the holiday of Ilinden in 2011, the Milevi family visited Lazaropole to see relatives. They also visited the Church of St. George, where their daughter Angela took photos in front of the royal doors and in several other places. Two years later, in 2013, a major robbery took place, and the church was devastated as part of a series of thefts from sacred sites across Macedonia.

“They stole the royal doors, the most valuable icons by Dicho Zograf… Inside, they broke thrones, legs, chairs—everything they could. They destroyed and stole everything. I went the following year, and what I saw—the church was empty and devastated. Dr. Blazhe Smilevski asked me if I could recreate the upper part of the iconostasis, in any form. I told him I would make it exactly as it was.”

Even though the carving was very deep and complex, Marjan found the photo of Angela from years earlier, zoomed in on it, printed it, and used it to recreate the missing part of the iconostasis. As of this year, it has been installed in the church together with the royal doors—something you can see if you visit the church in Lazaropole.

About the work he still dreams of creating, Marjan says:

“There are many such things. They say that as long as a person has the desire to create something close to their heart that they haven’t yet made, they will continue to live. I have so many works I want to create that I don’t know if one lifetime will be enough.”

What makes a wooden piece a ‘lasting memory’?

The love invested in it. Wood can last for centuries, but the emotion it carries is what makes it truly timeless.

How would you describe the philosophy of Zingiber Atelier in one sentence?

From a piece of wood, we create a work with a soul that carries tradition, faith, and love.

What do you want people to feel when they hold your work?

Peace, warmth, and a sense that they are holding something real—something made with care, intention, and love.

How do you see the role of craftsmanship in today’s world?

In a world of mass production, handmade work is becoming a luxury. It reminds us that stories are created by people—not machines.

What was your initial experience as part of the Vividoshop platform?

The collaboration allows our story to reach a wider audience and connect with people who value authenticity. We are grateful to Maja Trajkova, a girl full of charisma, insightful and hardworking, who is the driving force behind the Vividoshop platform in supporting small local family businesses like ours. Consumers should be proud of themselves when they support work made by small local artisans.

What does it mean to you that your works are available to a wider audience?

It means that Macedonian tradition travels across the world and that a part of our soul is shared with other cultures. The Macedonian people are ready to welcome anyone who wants to become part of their story.

What are the future plans for Zingiber Atelier?

Our vision for the future is for Zingiber to continue growing as a place where tradition is not only exhibited, but actively passed on. In addition to creating new works and introducing original designs, we plan to develop the atelier as a cultural and educational space.

One of our biggest plans is to open a small school for children aged 6 to 12, where they will be introduced to the basics of woodcarving – how to hold tools, how to respect wood, how a shape is created from a single line. Of course, the program will be adapted to their age, and safety will be a top priority.

The goal is not only for them to learn technique, but to develop patience, concentration, creativity, and love for handcrafted work. At the end of the program, each child will receive a participation certificate – as a symbol that they have become part of the Zingiber story and a guardian of tradition.

We believe that if love for craftsmanship is instilled in childhood, it can last a lifetime.

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What advice would you give to young people who want to continue craftsmanship?

We encourage you to never lose hope and always follow your dreams, because faith as small as a grain of millet gives enormous strength! And don’t forget, you are the mosaic, with every single necessary piece in it! Always find your own hobby, a place where you enjoy what you do, and yes, never sell your first creations!

If your carving were a feeling, which would it be and why?

It would be faith. Because everything starts from it – effort, hope, and the love invested in every piece of wood.

Zingiber Atelier is more than a craft—it is a way of life. A story of perseverance, family connection, and belief in what you create. Every piece carries a part of their soul, but also a piece of Macedonian tradition that they continue to preserve and share.

In a time when handmade work is becoming increasingly rare, stories like this remind us that true value lies in patience, authenticity, and love.

Zingiber doesn’t just create objects—they create lasting memories, a connection to heritage, and inspiration for future generations.

You can explore some of their products on their online store at www.vividoshop.com.