🔗 Share this article Protecting Kyiv's Heritage: A City Rebuilding Itself Amidst the Onslaught of War. Lesia Danylenko showed off with satisfaction her recently completed front door. Volunteers had playfully nicknamed its ornate transom window the “croissant”, a whimsical nod to its arched shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a peafowl,” she remarked, gazing at its tree limb-inspired details. The refurbishment initiative at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was supported by residents, who commemorated the work with two neighbourhood pavement parties. It was also an act of defiance towards a neighboring state, she explained: “We are trying to live like normal people in spite of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the best possible way. Fear does not drive us of staying in our country. I could have left, starting anew to another European nation. Instead, I’m here. The new entrance shows our allegiance to our homeland.” “We are trying to live like everyday people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the best possible way.” Preserving Kyiv’s built legacy could be considered strange at a period when missile strikes regularly target the capital, causing death and destruction. Since the start of the current year, offensive operations have been notably increased. After each assault, workers board up blown-out windows with plywood and try, where possible, to salvage residential buildings. Within the Bombs, a Campaign for History In the midst of war, a band of activists has been attempting to save the city’s crumbling mansions, built in a whimsical style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the downtown Shevchenkivskyi district. It was erected in 1906 and was first the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its outer walls is adorned with horse chestnut leaves and fine camomile flowers. “These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are increasingly scarce in the present day,” Danylenko noted. The mansion was designed by an architect of Austrian-German origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity display analogous art nouveau characteristics, including asymmetry – with a pointed turret on one side and a turret on the other. One beloved house in the area boasts two unhappy white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a imp. Multiple Challenges to Heritage But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unprincipled developers who demolish protected buildings, unethical officials and a administrative body unconcerned or opposed to the city’s rich architectural history. The severe winter climate presents another difficulty. “Kyiv is a city where money wins. We lack genuine political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He claimed the city’s leadership was closely associated with many of the developers who flatten important houses. Perov stated that the vision for the capital harks back to a previous decade. The mayor rejects these claims, stating they come from political rivals. Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once protected older properties were now serving in the military or had been fallen. The protracted conflict meant that all citizens was facing monetary strain, he added, including judicial figures who curiously ruled in favour of suspect new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see deterioration of our society and public institutions,” he remarked. Loss and Neglect One notorious example of destruction is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was home to classical 19th-century houses. A developer who obtained the plot had agreed to preserve its picturesque brick facade. A day after the full-scale invasion, heavy machinery razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane dug foundations for a new commercial complex, monitored by a surly security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was faint chance for the remaining turquoise-painted houses on the site. Sometimes developers destroyed old properties while asserting they were doing “scientific study”, he said. A former political system also wrought immense damage on the capital, redesigning its central boulevard after the second world war so it could allow for large-scale parades. Carrying the Torch One of Kyiv’s most prominent advocates of historic buildings, a heritage expert, was killed in 2022 while engaged in the frontline. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were persevering in his important preservation work. There were originally 3,500 masonry mansions in Kyiv, many erected for the city’s successful business magnates. Only 80 of their original doors survived, she said. “It wasn’t external attacks that eliminated them. It was us,” she said with regret. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now not a thing will be left,” she continued. Chudna recently helped to restore a unique vine-clad house built in 1910, which acts as the headquarters of her cultural organization and operates as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and original-style railings; inside is a period bathroom and antique mirrors. “The war could last another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now nothing will be left.” The building’s occupant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “quite special and a little bit cold”. Why do many locals not value the past? “Unfortunately they lack education and taste. It’s all about business. We are attempting as a country to move towards the west. But we are still some distance away from such cultural awareness,” he said. Soviet-era ways of thinking persisted, with people unwilling to take personal responsibility for their urban environment, he added. Therapy in Preservation Some buildings are collapsing because of institutional abandonment. Chudna showed a once-magical villa tucked away behind a modern hospital. Its roof had collapsed; pigeons nested among its broken windows; rubbish lay under a whimsical tower. “Frequently we are unsuccessful,” she acknowledged. “Preservation work is a coping mechanism for us. We are attempting to save all this past and aesthetic value.” In the face of conflict and commercial interests, these volunteers continue their work, one building at a time, arguing that to save a city’s heart, you must first save its stones.
Lesia Danylenko showed off with satisfaction her recently completed front door. Volunteers had playfully nicknamed its ornate transom window the “croissant”, a whimsical nod to its arched shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a peafowl,” she remarked, gazing at its tree limb-inspired details. The refurbishment initiative at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was supported by residents, who commemorated the work with two neighbourhood pavement parties. It was also an act of defiance towards a neighboring state, she explained: “We are trying to live like normal people in spite of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the best possible way. Fear does not drive us of staying in our country. I could have left, starting anew to another European nation. Instead, I’m here. The new entrance shows our allegiance to our homeland.” “We are trying to live like everyday people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the best possible way.” Preserving Kyiv’s built legacy could be considered strange at a period when missile strikes regularly target the capital, causing death and destruction. Since the start of the current year, offensive operations have been notably increased. After each assault, workers board up blown-out windows with plywood and try, where possible, to salvage residential buildings. Within the Bombs, a Campaign for History In the midst of war, a band of activists has been attempting to save the city’s crumbling mansions, built in a whimsical style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the downtown Shevchenkivskyi district. It was erected in 1906 and was first the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its outer walls is adorned with horse chestnut leaves and fine camomile flowers. “These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are increasingly scarce in the present day,” Danylenko noted. The mansion was designed by an architect of Austrian-German origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity display analogous art nouveau characteristics, including asymmetry – with a pointed turret on one side and a turret on the other. One beloved house in the area boasts two unhappy white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a imp. Multiple Challenges to Heritage But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unprincipled developers who demolish protected buildings, unethical officials and a administrative body unconcerned or opposed to the city’s rich architectural history. The severe winter climate presents another difficulty. “Kyiv is a city where money wins. We lack genuine political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He claimed the city’s leadership was closely associated with many of the developers who flatten important houses. Perov stated that the vision for the capital harks back to a previous decade. The mayor rejects these claims, stating they come from political rivals. Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once protected older properties were now serving in the military or had been fallen. The protracted conflict meant that all citizens was facing monetary strain, he added, including judicial figures who curiously ruled in favour of suspect new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see deterioration of our society and public institutions,” he remarked. Loss and Neglect One notorious example of destruction is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was home to classical 19th-century houses. A developer who obtained the plot had agreed to preserve its picturesque brick facade. A day after the full-scale invasion, heavy machinery razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane dug foundations for a new commercial complex, monitored by a surly security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was faint chance for the remaining turquoise-painted houses on the site. Sometimes developers destroyed old properties while asserting they were doing “scientific study”, he said. A former political system also wrought immense damage on the capital, redesigning its central boulevard after the second world war so it could allow for large-scale parades. Carrying the Torch One of Kyiv’s most prominent advocates of historic buildings, a heritage expert, was killed in 2022 while engaged in the frontline. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were persevering in his important preservation work. There were originally 3,500 masonry mansions in Kyiv, many erected for the city’s successful business magnates. Only 80 of their original doors survived, she said. “It wasn’t external attacks that eliminated them. It was us,” she said with regret. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now not a thing will be left,” she continued. Chudna recently helped to restore a unique vine-clad house built in 1910, which acts as the headquarters of her cultural organization and operates as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and original-style railings; inside is a period bathroom and antique mirrors. “The war could last another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now nothing will be left.” The building’s occupant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “quite special and a little bit cold”. Why do many locals not value the past? “Unfortunately they lack education and taste. It’s all about business. We are attempting as a country to move towards the west. But we are still some distance away from such cultural awareness,” he said. Soviet-era ways of thinking persisted, with people unwilling to take personal responsibility for their urban environment, he added. Therapy in Preservation Some buildings are collapsing because of institutional abandonment. Chudna showed a once-magical villa tucked away behind a modern hospital. Its roof had collapsed; pigeons nested among its broken windows; rubbish lay under a whimsical tower. “Frequently we are unsuccessful,” she acknowledged. “Preservation work is a coping mechanism for us. We are attempting to save all this past and aesthetic value.” In the face of conflict and commercial interests, these volunteers continue their work, one building at a time, arguing that to save a city’s heart, you must first save its stones.