Preserving the Capital's Architectural Legacy: An Urban Center Reconstructing Its Foundations Amidst the Onslaught of War.
Lesia Danylenko proudly presented her recently completed front door. Local helpers had given the moniker its ornate transom window the “croissant”, a lighthearted tribute to its arched shape. “I think it’s more of a peafowl,” she commented, gazing at its branch-like features. The refurbishment initiative at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was made possible by residents, who commemorated the work with two lively pavement parties.
It was also an act of resistance against a foreign power, she explained: “We are trying to live like normal people in spite of the war. It’s about shaping our life in the optimal way. Fear does not drive us of living in our country. I had the option to depart, moving away to another European nation. On the contrary, I’m here. The new entrance shows our allegiance to our homeland.”
“We strive to live like ordinary people despite the war. It’s about arranging our life in the most positive way.”
Protecting Kyiv’s built legacy may appear unusual at a time when drone attacks regularly target the capital, bringing death and destruction. Since the onset of the current year, aerial raids have been notably increased. After each strike, workers seal broken windows with plywood and endeavor, where possible, to salvage residential buildings.
Amid the Bombs, a Battle for Identity
In the midst of war, a band of activists has been striving to conserve the city’s deteriorating mansions, built in a distinctive style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the historic Shevchenkivskyi district. It was built in 1906 and was originally the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its exterior is embellished with horse chestnut leaves and fine camomile flowers.
“These structures stand as symbols of Kyiv. These properties are increasingly scarce today,” Danylenko stated. The mansion was designed by a designer of Austrian-German origin. Several other buildings nearby display analogous art nouveau elements, including asymmetry – with a pointed turret on one side and a small tower on the other. One popular house in the area displays two sullen white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a demonic figure.
Dual Challenges to History
But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unprincipled developers who demolish historically significant buildings, corrupt officials and a governing class unconcerned or hostile to the city’s rich architectural history. The bitter winter climate imposes another challenge.
“Kyiv is a city where money wins. We are missing genuine political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He asserted the city’s leadership was closely associated with many of the developers who destroy important houses. Perov stated that the vision for the capital comes straight out of a previous decade. The mayor has refuted these claims, stating they come from political rivals.
Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once championed older properties were now engaged in combat or had been killed. The lengthy conflict meant that everyone was facing economic hardship, he added, including judicial figures who curiously ruled in favour of dubious new-build schemes. “The longer this continues the more we see decline of our society and governing institutions,” he argued.
Loss and Abandonment
One notorious location of loss is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was lined with classical 19th-century houses. A developer who acquired the plot had committed to preserve its attractive brick facade. A day after the 2022 invasion, diggers tore it down. Recently, a crane dug foundations for a new retail and office development, watched 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 demolished old properties while asserting they were doing “scientific study”, he said. A previous regime also caused immense damage on the capital, rebuilding its central boulevard after the second world war so it could accommodate large-scale parades.
Carrying the Torch
One of Kyiv’s most notable advocates of historic buildings, a tour guide and blogger, was fell in 2022 while serving in a eastern city. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were persevering in his vital preservation work. There were at one time 3,500 brick-built mansions in Kyiv, many erected for the city’s wealthy business magnates. Only 80 of their authentic doors remain, she said.
“It wasn’t foreign rockets that destroyed them. It was us,” she said with regret. “The war could last 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 vine-clad house built in 1910, which functions as the headquarters of her cultural organization and doubles as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and original-style railings; inside is a historic washroom and antique mirrors.
“The war could last another 20 years. If we neglect 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 appreciate the past? “Regrettably they lack education and taste. It’s all about business. We are trying as a country to integrate with the west. But we are still a way off from such cultural awareness,” he said. Soviet-era ways of thinking lingered, with people reluctant to take personal responsibility for their urban environment, he added.
Hope in Action
Some buildings are falling apart because of bureaucratic indifference. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa concealed behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons nested among its broken windows; refuse lay under a whimsical tower. “Often we don’t win,” she conceded. “Preservation work is therapy for us. We are trying to save all this history and aesthetic value.”
In the face of conflict and commercial interests, these activists continue their work, one facade at a time, stating that to preserve a city’s identity, you must first save its walls.