🔗 Share this article Safeguarding the Capital's Architectural Legacy: An Urban Center Reconstructing Itself Under the Threat of War. Lesia Danylenko beamed with pride as she displayed her freshly fitted front door. Volunteers had playfully nicknamed its ornate transom window the “pastry”, a lighthearted tribute to its bowed shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a showy bird,” she remarked, appreciating its tree limb-inspired features. The refurbishment initiative at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was supported by residents, who marked the occasion with several neighbourhood pavement parties. It was also an expression of defiance towards a foreign power, 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. We have no fear of living in our country. I could have left, starting anew to a foreign land. Conversely, I’m here. The new entrance shows our commitment to our homeland.” “We strive to live like everyday people despite the war. It’s about shaping our life in the most positive way.” Safeguarding Kyiv’s built legacy seems paradoxical at a period when drone attacks frequently hit the capital, bringing death and destruction. Since the onset of the current year, offensive operations have been notably increased. After each strike, workers cover blown-out windows with plywood and endeavor, where possible, to salvage residential buildings. Within the Conflict, a Campaign for Identity Amid the bombs, a collective 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 historic Shevchenkivskyi district. It was built in 1906 and was first the home of a wealthy fur dealer. Its outer walls is decorated with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers. “These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare in the present day,” Danylenko stated. The residence was designed by a designer of Central European origin. Several other buildings nearby display comparable art nouveau characteristics, including asymmetry – with a pointed turret on one side and a projection on the other. One beloved house in the area features two sullen white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a demonic figure. Dual Threats to Heritage But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unprincipled developers who knock down historically significant buildings, dishonest officials and a political leadership indifferent or resistant to the city’s profound architectural history. The severe winter climate adds another challenge. “Kyiv is a city where wealth dictates. We are missing substantive 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 destroy important houses. Perov added that the vision for the capital harks back to a bygone era. The mayor denies these claims, attributing them from political rivals. Perov said many of the civically minded activists who once championed older properties were now serving in the military or had been killed. The protracted conflict meant that everyone was facing economic hardship, he added, including judicial figures who curiously ruled in favour of suspect new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see degradation of our society and state bodies,” he contended. Demolition and Abandonment One egregious example of destruction is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was home to classical 19th-century houses. A developer who purchased the plot had agreed to preserve its picturesque brick facade. A day after the 2022 invasion, diggers razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane dug foundations for a new commercial complex, watched by a stern security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was not much hope for the remaining blue-green houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while claiming they were doing “scientific study”, he said. A previous regime also wrought immense damage on the capital, reconstructing its central boulevard after the second world war so it could facilitate large-scale parades. Carrying the Torch One of Kyiv’s most renowned defenders of historic buildings, a heritage expert, was killed in 2022 while engaged in a contested area. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were continuing his important preservation work. There were originally 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many erected for the city’s wealthy business magnates. Only 80 of their authentic doors are still in existence, she said. “It wasn’t external attacks that eliminated them. It was us,” she said with regret. “The war could last another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now not a thing will be left,” she continued. Chudna recently helped to restore a full of character vine-clad house built in 1910, which serves as the headquarters of her cultural organization and doubles as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and period-correct railings; inside is a historic washroom and antique mirrors. “The war could last another 20 years. If we neglect architecture now little will be left.” The building’s tenant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “very cool and a little bit cold”. Why do many locals not value 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 a way off from such cultural awareness,” he said. Previous ways of thinking remained, with people unwilling to take personal responsibility for their architectural setting, he added. Hope in Preservation Some buildings are crumbling because of institutional abandonment. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa tucked away behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons roosted among its broken windows; debris lay under a storybook tower. “Many times we don’t win,” she conceded. “This activity is a form of healing for us. We are attempting to save all this past and splendour.” In the face of war and neglect, these citizens continue their work, one building at a time, arguing that to rebuild a city’s soul, you must first save its history.
Lesia Danylenko beamed with pride as she displayed her freshly fitted front door. Volunteers had playfully nicknamed its ornate transom window the “pastry”, a lighthearted tribute to its bowed shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a showy bird,” she remarked, appreciating its tree limb-inspired features. The refurbishment initiative at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was supported by residents, who marked the occasion with several neighbourhood pavement parties. It was also an expression of defiance towards a foreign power, 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. We have no fear of living in our country. I could have left, starting anew to a foreign land. Conversely, I’m here. The new entrance shows our commitment to our homeland.” “We strive to live like everyday people despite the war. It’s about shaping our life in the most positive way.” Safeguarding Kyiv’s built legacy seems paradoxical at a period when drone attacks frequently hit the capital, bringing death and destruction. Since the onset of the current year, offensive operations have been notably increased. After each strike, workers cover blown-out windows with plywood and endeavor, where possible, to salvage residential buildings. Within the Conflict, a Campaign for Identity Amid the bombs, a collective 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 historic Shevchenkivskyi district. It was built in 1906 and was first the home of a wealthy fur dealer. Its outer walls is decorated with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers. “These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare in the present day,” Danylenko stated. The residence was designed by a designer of Central European origin. Several other buildings nearby display comparable art nouveau characteristics, including asymmetry – with a pointed turret on one side and a projection on the other. One beloved house in the area features two sullen white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a demonic figure. Dual Threats to Heritage But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unprincipled developers who knock down historically significant buildings, dishonest officials and a political leadership indifferent or resistant to the city’s profound architectural history. The severe winter climate adds another challenge. “Kyiv is a city where wealth dictates. We are missing substantive 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 destroy important houses. Perov added that the vision for the capital harks back to a bygone era. The mayor denies these claims, attributing them from political rivals. Perov said many of the civically minded activists who once championed older properties were now serving in the military or had been killed. The protracted conflict meant that everyone was facing economic hardship, he added, including judicial figures who curiously ruled in favour of suspect new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see degradation of our society and state bodies,” he contended. Demolition and Abandonment One egregious example of destruction is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was home to classical 19th-century houses. A developer who purchased the plot had agreed to preserve its picturesque brick facade. A day after the 2022 invasion, diggers razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane dug foundations for a new commercial complex, watched by a stern security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was not much hope for the remaining blue-green houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while claiming they were doing “scientific study”, he said. A previous regime also wrought immense damage on the capital, reconstructing its central boulevard after the second world war so it could facilitate large-scale parades. Carrying the Torch One of Kyiv’s most renowned defenders of historic buildings, a heritage expert, was killed in 2022 while engaged in a contested area. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were continuing his important preservation work. There were originally 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many erected for the city’s wealthy business magnates. Only 80 of their authentic doors are still in existence, she said. “It wasn’t external attacks that eliminated them. It was us,” she said with regret. “The war could last another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now not a thing will be left,” she continued. Chudna recently helped to restore a full of character vine-clad house built in 1910, which serves as the headquarters of her cultural organization and doubles as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and period-correct railings; inside is a historic washroom and antique mirrors. “The war could last another 20 years. If we neglect architecture now little will be left.” The building’s tenant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “very cool and a little bit cold”. Why do many locals not value 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 a way off from such cultural awareness,” he said. Previous ways of thinking remained, with people unwilling to take personal responsibility for their architectural setting, he added. Hope in Preservation Some buildings are crumbling because of institutional abandonment. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa tucked away behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons roosted among its broken windows; debris lay under a storybook tower. “Many times we don’t win,” she conceded. “This activity is a form of healing for us. We are attempting to save all this past and splendour.” In the face of war and neglect, these citizens continue their work, one building at a time, arguing that to rebuild a city’s soul, you must first save its history.