🔗 Share this article Protecting the Capital's Heritage: An Urban Center Reconstructing Its Foundations Amidst the Onslaught of War. Lesia Danylenko proudly presented her recently completed front door. Volunteers had playfully nicknamed its ornate transom window the “crescent roll”, a whimsical nod to its bowed shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a showy bird,” she commented, appreciating its branch-like ornamentation. The renovation effort at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was made possible by residents, who marked the occasion with a couple of lively pavement parties. It was also an act of defiance in the face of a neighboring state, she explained: “Our aim is to live like ordinary people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the best possible way. We’re not afraid of remaining in our country. I could have left, relocating to another European nation. On the contrary, I’m here. The new entrance shows our allegiance 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.” Preserving Kyiv’s built legacy could be considered paradoxical at a period when drone attacks routinely fall the capital, causing death and destruction. Since the start of the current year, bombing campaigns have been significantly intensified. After each attack, workers cover blown-out windows with plywood and try, where possible, to salvage residential buildings. Among the Bombs, a Campaign for History In the midst of war, a band of activists has been attempting to save the city’s decaying mansions, built in a distinctive style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the central Shevchenkivskyi district. It was constructed in 1906 and was initially the home of a wealthy fur dealer. Its exterior is adorned with horse chestnut leaves and delicate camomile flowers. “These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare nowadays,” Danylenko stated. The residence was designed by a designer of Central European origin. Several other buildings nearby showcase similar art nouveau elements, including a lack of symmetry – with a gothic tower on one side and a projection on the other. One beloved house in the area displays two forlorn white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a devil. Several Challenges to History But external attacks is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who knock down historically significant buildings, corrupt officials and a political leadership unconcerned or resistant to the city’s rich architectural history. The bitter winter climate adds another difficulty. “Kyiv is a city where money wins. We don’t have substantive political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He claimed the city’s mayor was friends with many of the developers who destroy important houses. Perov stated that the vision for the capital comes straight out of a bygone era. The mayor rejects these claims, attributing them from political rivals. Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once defended older properties were now serving in the military or had been fallen. The protracted conflict meant that everyone was facing economic hardship, he added, including judicial figures who mysteriously ruled in favour of dubious new-build schemes. “The longer this continues the more we see deterioration of our society and state bodies,” he contended. Demolition and Neglect One glaring location of loss is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was lined with classical 19th-century houses. A developer who obtained the plot had pledged to preserve its picturesque brick facade. A day after the 2022 invasion, diggers razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane excavated foundations for a new retail and office development, watched by a stern security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was not much hope for the remaining coloured houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while stating they were doing “historical excavation”, he said. A former political system also caused immense damage on the capital, redesigning its central boulevard after the second world war so it could facilitate military vehicles. Continuing the Work One of Kyiv’s most notable champions of historic buildings, a cultural activist, was lost his life in 2022 while serving in a contested area. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were persevering in his crucial preservation work. There were initially 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many constructed for the city’s successful industrialists. Only 80 of their original doors remain, she said. “It was not external attacks that got rid of them. It was us,” she admitted sadly. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now little will be left,” she emphasized. Chudna recently helped to restore a full of character creeper-covered house built in 1910, which functions as the headquarters of her cultural organization and operates as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and authentic railings; inside is a period bathroom and antique mirrors. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now not a thing will be left.” The building’s tenant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “incredibly atmospheric and a little bit cold”. Why do many residents not value the past? “Unfortunately they lack education and taste. It’s all about business. We are attempting as a country to integrate with the west. But we are still a way off from civilization,” he said. Previous ways of thinking persisted, with people reluctant to take personal responsibility for their built surroundings, he added. Hope in Preservation Some buildings are falling apart because of bureaucratic indifference. Chudna showed a once-magical villa concealed behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons made their home among its broken windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Often we don’t win,” she conceded. “Restoration is a coping mechanism for us. We are trying to save all this heritage and aesthetic value.” In the face of destruction and neglect, these activists continue their work, one facade at a time, arguing that to preserve a city’s heart, you must first protect its history.
Lesia Danylenko proudly presented her recently completed front door. Volunteers had playfully nicknamed its ornate transom window the “crescent roll”, a whimsical nod to its bowed shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a showy bird,” she commented, appreciating its branch-like ornamentation. The renovation effort at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was made possible by residents, who marked the occasion with a couple of lively pavement parties. It was also an act of defiance in the face of a neighboring state, she explained: “Our aim is to live like ordinary people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the best possible way. We’re not afraid of remaining in our country. I could have left, relocating to another European nation. On the contrary, I’m here. The new entrance shows our allegiance 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.” Preserving Kyiv’s built legacy could be considered paradoxical at a period when drone attacks routinely fall the capital, causing death and destruction. Since the start of the current year, bombing campaigns have been significantly intensified. After each attack, workers cover blown-out windows with plywood and try, where possible, to salvage residential buildings. Among the Bombs, a Campaign for History In the midst of war, a band of activists has been attempting to save the city’s decaying mansions, built in a distinctive style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the central Shevchenkivskyi district. It was constructed in 1906 and was initially the home of a wealthy fur dealer. Its exterior is adorned with horse chestnut leaves and delicate camomile flowers. “These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare nowadays,” Danylenko stated. The residence was designed by a designer of Central European origin. Several other buildings nearby showcase similar art nouveau elements, including a lack of symmetry – with a gothic tower on one side and a projection on the other. One beloved house in the area displays two forlorn white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a devil. Several Challenges to History But external attacks is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who knock down historically significant buildings, corrupt officials and a political leadership unconcerned or resistant to the city’s rich architectural history. The bitter winter climate adds another difficulty. “Kyiv is a city where money wins. We don’t have substantive political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He claimed the city’s mayor was friends with many of the developers who destroy important houses. Perov stated that the vision for the capital comes straight out of a bygone era. The mayor rejects these claims, attributing them from political rivals. Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once defended older properties were now serving in the military or had been fallen. The protracted conflict meant that everyone was facing economic hardship, he added, including judicial figures who mysteriously ruled in favour of dubious new-build schemes. “The longer this continues the more we see deterioration of our society and state bodies,” he contended. Demolition and Neglect One glaring location of loss is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was lined with classical 19th-century houses. A developer who obtained the plot had pledged to preserve its picturesque brick facade. A day after the 2022 invasion, diggers razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane excavated foundations for a new retail and office development, watched by a stern security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was not much hope for the remaining coloured houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while stating they were doing “historical excavation”, he said. A former political system also caused immense damage on the capital, redesigning its central boulevard after the second world war so it could facilitate military vehicles. Continuing the Work One of Kyiv’s most notable champions of historic buildings, a cultural activist, was lost his life in 2022 while serving in a contested area. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were persevering in his crucial preservation work. There were initially 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many constructed for the city’s successful industrialists. Only 80 of their original doors remain, she said. “It was not external attacks that got rid of them. It was us,” she admitted sadly. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now little will be left,” she emphasized. Chudna recently helped to restore a full of character creeper-covered house built in 1910, which functions as the headquarters of her cultural organization and operates as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and authentic railings; inside is a period bathroom and antique mirrors. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now not a thing will be left.” The building’s tenant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “incredibly atmospheric and a little bit cold”. Why do many residents not value the past? “Unfortunately they lack education and taste. It’s all about business. We are attempting as a country to integrate with the west. But we are still a way off from civilization,” he said. Previous ways of thinking persisted, with people reluctant to take personal responsibility for their built surroundings, he added. Hope in Preservation Some buildings are falling apart because of bureaucratic indifference. Chudna showed a once-magical villa concealed behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons made their home among its broken windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Often we don’t win,” she conceded. “Restoration is a coping mechanism for us. We are trying to save all this heritage and aesthetic value.” In the face of destruction and neglect, these activists continue their work, one facade at a time, arguing that to preserve a city’s heart, you must first protect its history.