Lesia Danylenko showed off with satisfaction her freshly fitted front door. Local helpers had given the moniker its graceful transom window the “pastry”, a lighthearted tribute to its arched shape. “Personally, I believe it’s more of a peafowl,” she remarked, appreciating its twig-detailed details. The restoration project at one of Kyiv’s pre-World War I art nouveau houses was made possible by residents, who commemorated the work with several impromptu pavement parties.
It was also an expression of defiance in the face of a foreign power, she elaborated: “We are trying to live like ordinary people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the most positive way. We have no fear of remaining in Ukraine. I had the option to depart, moving away to another European nation. On the contrary, I’m here. The new entrance represents our commitment to our homeland.”
“We strive to live like normal people regardless of the war. It’s about organizing our life in the best possible way.”
Safeguarding Kyiv’s historic buildings seems strange at a time when aerial assaults routinely fall the capital, causing death and destruction. Since the onset of the current year, offensive operations have been notably increased. After each strike, workers board up blown-out windows with plywood and attempt, where possible, to save residential buildings.
Within the Explosions, a Battle for History
In the midst of war, a collective of activists has been working to save the city’s decaying mansions, built in a playful style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the historic Shevchenkivskyi district. It was built in 1906 and was initially the home of a prosperous fur dealer. Its outer walls is decorated with horse chestnut leaves and delicate camomile flowers.
“These structures stand as symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare today,” Danylenko noted. The residence was designed by an architect of Central European origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity display similar art nouveau features, including a lack of symmetry – with a gothic tower on one side and a turret on the other. One beloved house in the area features two forlorn white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a devil.
Dual Dangers to History
But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unscrupulous developers who knock down protected buildings, corrupt officials and a political leadership apathetic or opposed to the city’s vast architectural history. The severe winter climate imposes another burden.
“Kyiv is a city where capital prevails. We don’t have genuine political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He asserted the city’s leadership was friends with many of the developers who destroy important houses. Perov stated that the concept for the capital harks back to a previous decade. The mayor denies these claims, attributing them from political rivals.
Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once defended older properties were now engaged in combat or had been lost. The protracted conflict meant that all citizens was facing economic hardship, he added, including judicial figures who inexplicably ruled in favour of questionable new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see degradation of our society and state bodies,” he contended.
Demolition and Neglect
One notorious location of loss is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was lined with classical 19th-century houses. A developer who purchased the plot had pledged to preserve its picturesque brick facade. Shortly following the 2022 invasion, heavy machinery tore it down. Recently, a crane prepared foundations for a new shopping and business centre, observed by a surly security guard.
Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was little optimism for the remaining coloured houses on the site. Sometimes developers demolished old properties while asserting they were doing “historical excavation”, he said. A 20th-century empire also wrought immense damage on the capital, reconstructing its main thoroughfare after the second world war so it could facilitate large-scale parades.
Upholding the Legacy
One of Kyiv’s most notable champions of historic buildings, a tour guide and blogger, was lost his life in 2022 while fighting in the frontline. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were continuing his important preservation work. There were initially 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many built for the city’s wealthy entrepreneurs. Only 80 of their original doors are still in existence, she said.
“It wasn’t external attacks that got rid of them. It was us,” she lamented. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we don’t defend architecture now not a thing will be left,” she added. Chudna recently helped to restore a unique ivy-draped house built in 1910, which acts as the headquarters of her cultural organization and also serves as a film set and museum. The property has a new vermilion portal and period-correct railings; inside is a period bathroom and antique mirrors.
“The war could continue for another 20 years. If we don’t defend architecture now not a thing will be left.”
The building’s resident, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “quite special and a little bit cold”. Why do many residents not cherish the past? “Sadly they do not have education and taste. It’s all about business. We are attempting as a country to integrate with the west. But we are still some distance away from that standard,” he said. Soviet-era ways of thinking lingered, with people unwilling to take personal responsibility for their architectural setting, he added.
Therapy in Restoration
Some buildings are crumbling because of institutional abandonment. Chudna pointed to a once-magical villa concealed behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons nested among its smashed windows; debris lay under a storybook tower. “Frequently we lose the battle,” she admitted. “Restoration is therapy for us. We are attempting to save all this heritage and beauty.”
In the face of war and neglect, these volunteers continue their work, one building at a time, arguing that to rebuild a city’s heart, you must first cherish its walls.
