Lesia Danylenko beamed with pride as she displayed her recently completed front door. Local helpers had affectionately dubbed its ornate transom window the âcroissantâ, a lighthearted tribute to its arched shape. âPersonally, I believe itâs more of a peafowl,â she commented, gazing at its twig-detailed features. The restoration project at one of Kyivâs pre-World War I art nouveau houses was made possible by residents, who celebrated with two neighbourhood pavement parties.
It was also an expression of defiance against a neighboring state, she clarified: âWe strive to live like ordinary people in spite of the war. Itâs about shaping our life in the most positive way. Weâre not afraid of remaining in our country. I had the option to depart, relocating to Italy. Conversely, Iâm here. The new entrance represents our commitment to our homeland.â
âWe strive to live like ordinary people regardless of the war. Itâs about shaping our life in the optimal way.â
Safeguarding Kyivâs built legacy could be considered paradoxical at a moment when aerial assaults routinely fall 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 cover broken windows with plywood and try, where possible, to save residential buildings.
Amid the bombs, a collective of activists has been attempting to preserve the cityâs decaying mansions, built in a playful style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenkoâs house is in the downtown Shevchenkivskyi district. It was built in 1906 and was originally the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its outer walls is adorned with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers.
âThey are symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare in the present day,â Danylenko stated. The mansion was designed by a designer of Central European origin. Several other buildings nearby showcase analogous art nouveau elements, including asymmetry â with a pointed turret on one side and a turret on the other. One much-loved house in the area features two forlorn white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a imp.
But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who demolish listed buildings, unethical officials and a administrative body apathetic or hostile to the cityâs rich architectural history. The harsh winter climate adds another challenge.
âKyiv is a city where wealth dictates. We lack real political will to save our heritage,â said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He claimed the cityâs leadership was closely associated with many of the developers who destroy important houses. Perov further alleged that the plan for the capital comes straight out of a different time. The mayor denies these claims, stating they come from political rivals.
Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once protected older properties were now serving in the military or had been fallen. The ongoing conflict meant that the entire society was facing monetary strain, he added, including judicial figures who mysteriously ruled in favour of suspect new-build schemes. âThe longer this continues the more we see deterioration of our society and state bodies,â he remarked.
One notorious location of loss is in the waterside Podil neighbourhood. The street was the site of classical 19th-century houses. A developer who obtained the plot had pledged to preserve its picturesque brick facade. Shortly following the full-scale invasion, heavy machinery razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane prepared foundations for a new shopping and business centre, monitored 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 destroyed old properties while claiming they were doing âhistorical excavationâ, he said. A 20th-century empire also inflicted immense damage on the capital, redesigning its main thoroughfare after the second world war so it could facilitate military vehicles.
One of Kyivâs most prominent champions of historic buildings, a cultural activist, 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 originally 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many built for the cityâs wealthy industrialists. Only 80 of their original doors remain, she said.
âIt wasnât foreign rockets that got rid of them. It was us,â she said with regret. âThe war could last another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now not a thing will be left,â she emphasized. Chudna recently helped to restore a unique ivy-draped house built in 1910, which acts as the headquarters of her cultural organization and operates as a film set and museum. The property has a new red door and original-style railings; inside is a historic washroom and antique mirrors.
âThe war could go on for another 20 years. If we neglect architecture now not a thing will be left.â
The buildingâs occupant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as âvery cool and a little bit coldâ. Why do many residents not cherish the past? âRegrettably they do not have education and taste. Itâs all about business. We are striving as a country to move towards the west. But we are still some distance away from that standard,â he said. Soviet-era ways of thinking persisted, with people reluctant to take personal responsibility for their architectural setting, he added.
Some buildings are crumbling because of official neglect. Chudna showed a once-magical villa concealed behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons made their home among its smashed windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. âMany times we donât win,â she conceded. âThis activity is a coping mechanism for us. We are attempting to save all this history and aesthetic value.â
In the face of conflict and development pressures, these activists continue their work, one facade at a time, stating that to save a cityâs soul, you must first protect its stones.