Lesia Danylenko showed off with satisfaction her recently completed front door. Local helpers had affectionately dubbed its ornate transom window the “crescent roll”, a lighthearted tribute to its curved shape. “Personally, I believe it’s more of a peafowl,” she stated, appreciating its branch-like ornamentation. The renovation effort at one of Kyiv’s pre-World War I art nouveau houses was funded through residents, who commemorated the work with two neighbourhood pavement parties.
It was also an demonstration of opposition against a neighboring state, she explained: “We strive to live like everyday people regardless of the war. It’s about shaping our life in the best possible way. Fear does not drive us of staying in Ukraine. I could have left, relocating to another European nation. Instead, I’m here. The new entrance shows our dedication to our homeland.”
“We are trying to live like ordinary people in spite of the war. It’s about shaping our life in the optimal way.”
Protecting Kyiv’s built legacy may appear unusual at a period when aerial assaults regularly target the capital, causing death and destruction. Since the start of the current year, bombing campaigns have been significantly intensified. After each assault, workers cover broken windows with plywood and try, where possible, to salvage residential buildings.
In the midst of war, a group of activists has been attempting to conserve the city’s crumbling mansions, built in a playful style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the downtown Shevchenkivskyi district. It was constructed in 1906 and was originally the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its facade is decorated with horse chestnut leaves and delicate camomile flowers.
“These structures stand as symbols of Kyiv. These properties are increasingly scarce in the present day,” Danylenko said. The residence was designed by an architect of Central European origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity exhibit comparable art nouveau characteristics, including asymmetry – with a medieval spire on one side and a small tower on the other. One much-loved house in the area displays two unhappy white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a imp.
But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unscrupulous developers who raze protected buildings, corrupt officials and a political leadership apathetic or opposed to the city’s vast architectural history. The severe winter climate adds another burden.
“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 leadership was friends with many of the developers who flatten important houses. Perov added that the plan for the capital is reminiscent of a different time. The mayor rejects these claims, attributing them from political rivals.
Perov said many of the public-spirited activists who once defended older properties were now engaged in combat or had been lost. The protracted conflict meant that the entire society was facing economic hardship, he added, including judicial figures who mysteriously ruled in favour of suspect new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see deterioration of our society and state bodies,” he remarked.
One glaring 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 pledged to preserve its attractive brick facade. A day after the full-scale invasion, heavy machinery razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane excavated foundations for a new shopping and business centre, observed by a unfriendly security guard.
Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was little optimism for the remaining coloured houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while claiming they were doing “archaeological research”, he said. A former political system also caused immense damage on the capital, redesigning its primary street after the second world war so it could allow for official processions.
One of Kyiv’s most renowned defenders of historic buildings, a tour guide and blogger, was fell in 2022 while engaged in the frontline. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were persevering in his crucial preservation work. There were at one time 3,500 brick-built mansions in Kyiv, many built for the city’s successful industrialists. Only 80 of their period doors are still in existence, she said.
“It wasn’t aerial bombardments that eliminated them. It was us,” she admitted sadly. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now nothing will be left,” she emphasized. Chudna recently helped to restore a unique creeper-covered house built in 1910, which acts as the headquarters of her cultural organization and doubles as a film set and museum. The property has a new vermilion portal 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 not a thing will be left.”
The building’s occupant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “quite special and a little bit cold”. Why do many citizens not cherish the past? “Regrettably they lack education and taste. It’s all about business. We are striving as a country to go to the west. But we are still some distance away from that standard,” he said. Previous ways of thinking persisted, with people reluctant to take personal responsibility for their architectural setting, he added.
Some buildings are crumbling because of bureaucratic indifference. Chudna pointed to a once-magical villa concealed behind a modern hospital. Its roof had caved in; pigeons nested among its shattered windows; refuse lay under a fairytale tower. “Many times we don’t win,” she admitted. “Preservation work is a form of healing for us. We are attempting to save all this heritage and aesthetic value.”
In the face of destruction and commercial interests, these citizens continue their work, one facade at a time, arguing that to save a city’s identity, you must first protect its history.
Elara is a seasoned gaming journalist with a passion for slot mechanics and player strategies.
