Lesia Danylenko showed off with satisfaction her newly installed front door. Local helpers had given the moniker its ornate transom window the “pastry”, a whimsical nod to its curved shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a peacock,” she stated, gazing at its branch-like ornamentation. The renovation effort at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was made possible by residents, who celebrated with two impromptu pavement parties.
It was also an expression of defiance towards an invading force, she elaborated: “We strive to live like ordinary people regardless of the war. It’s about shaping our life in the most positive way. We have no fear of remaining in Ukraine. I had the option to depart, starting anew to Italy. Instead, I’m here. The new entrance symbolizes our dedication to our homeland.”
“Our aim is to live like everyday people regardless of the war. It’s about organizing our life in the most positive way.”
Safeguarding Kyiv’s historic buildings may appear paradoxical at a moment when missile strikes regularly target the capital, resulting in death and destruction. Since the onset of the current year, bombing campaigns have been dramatically stepped up. After each attack, workers board up blown-out windows with plywood and attempt, where possible, to save residential buildings.
Despite the violence, a collective of activists has been striving to save the city’s decaying mansions, built in a whimsical 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 wealthy fur dealer. Its outer walls is embellished with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers.
“These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are increasingly scarce today,” Danylenko said. The residence was designed by a designer of Austrian-German origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity display comparable art nouveau elements, including a lack of symmetry – with a medieval spire on one side and a projection on the other. One beloved house in the area displays two unhappy white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a imp.
But armed conflict is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who raze listed buildings, dishonest officials and a political leadership apathetic or opposed to the city’s rich architectural history. The severe winter climate adds another burden.
“Kyiv is a city where wealth dictates. We don’t have genuine political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He alleged the city’s mayor was friends with many of the developers who destroy important houses. Perov stated that the concept for the capital comes straight out of a different time. The mayor rejects these claims, attributing them from political rivals.
Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once championed older properties were now fighting on the frontline or had been killed. The lengthy conflict meant that all citizens was facing financial problems, 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 state bodies,” he contended.
One notorious demolition site is in the historic Podil neighbourhood. The street was the site of classical 19th-century houses. A developer who purchased the plot had committed to preserve its picturesque brick facade. In the immediate aftermath of the 2022 invasion, diggers razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane prepared foundations for a new commercial complex, observed by a stern security guard.
Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was faint chance for the remaining blue-green houses on the site. Sometimes developers demolished old properties while asserting they were doing “historical excavation”, he said. A previous regime also caused immense damage on the capital, redesigning its primary street after the second world war so it could accommodate official processions.
One of Kyiv’s most renowned defenders of historic buildings, a heritage expert, was fell in 2022 while serving in a contested area. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were continuing his vital preservation work. There were at one time 3,500 masonry mansions in Kyiv, many erected for the city’s prosperous entrepreneurs. Only 80 of their authentic doors remain, she said.
“It was not external attacks that got rid of them. It was us,” she said with regret. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now little will be left,” she continued. Chudna recently helped to restore a full of character creeper-covered house built in 1910, which serves as the headquarters of her cultural organization and operates as a film set and museum. The property has a new red door and period-correct railings; inside is a vintage sanitary facility and antique mirrors.
“The war could last another 20 years. If we neglect architecture now nothing will be left.”
The building’s resident, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “very cool and a little bit cold”. Why do many citizens not appreciate the past? “Unfortunately they are without education and taste. It’s all about business. We are trying as a country to integrate with the west. But we are still not yet close from that standard,” he said. Outdated ways of thinking lingered, with people unwilling to take personal responsibility for their built surroundings, he added.
Some buildings are falling apart because of official neglect. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa tucked away behind a modern hospital. Its roof had caved in; pigeons nested among its smashed windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Frequently we are unsuccessful,” she acknowledged. “This activity is a form of healing for us. We are trying to save all this history and beauty.”
In the face of war and commercial interests, these activists continue their work, one facade at a time, believing that to rebuild a city’s identity, you must first protect its history.