🔗 Share this article Protecting the Capital's Architectural Legacy: A City Reconstructing Its Foundations in the Shadow of War. Lesia Danylenko proudly presented her recently completed front door. The restoration team had affectionately dubbed its elegant transom window the “crescent roll”, a lighthearted tribute to its arched shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a showy bird,” she remarked, gazing at its tree limb-inspired ornamentation. The renovation effort at one of Kyiv’s pre-World War I art nouveau houses was made possible by residents, who celebrated with several impromptu pavement parties. It was also an act of defiance towards an invading force, she explained: “We strive to live like ordinary people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the most positive way. We have no fear of staying in our homeland. The possibility to emigrate existed, relocating to another European nation. Instead, I’m here. The new entrance represents our dedication to our homeland.” “We strive to live like normal people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the most positive way.” Protecting Kyiv’s historic buildings seems strange at a time when missile strikes frequently hit the capital, resulting in death and destruction. Since the beginning of the current year, offensive operations have been significantly intensified. After each assault, workers board up shattered windows with plywood and try, where possible, to save residential buildings. Within the Bombs, a Fight for Identity In the midst of war, a collective of activists has been working to preserve 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 erected in 1906 and was first the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its exterior is adorned with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers. “These structures stand as symbols of Kyiv. These properties are increasingly scarce nowadays,” Danylenko stated. The residence was designed by an architect of Austrian-German origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity showcase analogous art nouveau features, including a lack of symmetry – with a gothic tower on one side and a turret on the other. One beloved house in the area boasts two unhappy white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a demonic figure. Dual Challenges to Legacy But external attacks is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who raze protected buildings, dishonest officials and a governing class unconcerned or resistant to the city’s rich architectural history. The harsh winter climate presents another difficulty. “Kyiv is a city where money wins. We lack substantive 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 flatten important houses. Perov added that the plan for the capital is reminiscent 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 championed 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 decline of our society and governing institutions,” he argued. Loss and Disregard One notorious demolition site is in the waterside Podil neighbourhood. The street was the site of classical 19th-century houses. A developer who acquired the plot had pledged to preserve its picturesque brick facade. Shortly following the 2022 invasion, heavy machinery demolished it. Recently, a crane excavated foundations for a new shopping and business centre, monitored by a stern security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was little optimism for the remaining turquoise-painted houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while asserting they were doing “archaeological research”, he said. A previous regime also inflicted immense damage on the capital, redesigning its central boulevard after the second world war so it could allow for official processions. Continuing the Work One of Kyiv’s most renowned champions of historic buildings, a tour guide and blogger, was lost his life in 2022 while fighting 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 stone mansions in Kyiv, many constructed for the city’s wealthy business magnates. Only 80 of their authentic doors survived, she said. “It wasn’t foreign rockets 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 not a thing will be left,” she added. Chudna recently helped to restore a characterful creeper-covered 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 red door and period-correct railings; inside is a vintage sanitary facility and antique mirrors. “The war could continue for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now nothing 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 appreciate the past? “Sadly they are without education and taste. It’s all about business. We are striving as a country to move towards the west. But we are still some distance away from that standard,” he said. Previous ways of thinking remained, with people reluctant to take personal responsibility for their urban environment, he added. Resilience in Restoration Some buildings are collapsing because of official neglect. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa hidden behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons roosted among its shattered windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Frequently we lose the battle,” she conceded. “This activity is a form of healing for us. We are attempting to save all this heritage and beauty.” In the face of destruction and commercial interests, these activists continue their work, one building at a time, stating that to save a city’s soul, you must first cherish its walls.
Lesia Danylenko proudly presented her recently completed front door. The restoration team had affectionately dubbed its elegant transom window the “crescent roll”, a lighthearted tribute to its arched shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a showy bird,” she remarked, gazing at its tree limb-inspired ornamentation. The renovation effort at one of Kyiv’s pre-World War I art nouveau houses was made possible by residents, who celebrated with several impromptu pavement parties. It was also an act of defiance towards an invading force, she explained: “We strive to live like ordinary people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the most positive way. We have no fear of staying in our homeland. The possibility to emigrate existed, relocating to another European nation. Instead, I’m here. The new entrance represents our dedication to our homeland.” “We strive to live like normal people despite the war. It’s about organizing our life in the most positive way.” Protecting Kyiv’s historic buildings seems strange at a time when missile strikes frequently hit the capital, resulting in death and destruction. Since the beginning of the current year, offensive operations have been significantly intensified. After each assault, workers board up shattered windows with plywood and try, where possible, to save residential buildings. Within the Bombs, a Fight for Identity In the midst of war, a collective of activists has been working to preserve 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 erected in 1906 and was first the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its exterior is adorned with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers. “These structures stand as symbols of Kyiv. These properties are increasingly scarce nowadays,” Danylenko stated. The residence was designed by an architect of Austrian-German origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity showcase analogous art nouveau features, including a lack of symmetry – with a gothic tower on one side and a turret on the other. One beloved house in the area boasts two unhappy white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a demonic figure. Dual Challenges to Legacy But external attacks is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who raze protected buildings, dishonest officials and a governing class unconcerned or resistant to the city’s rich architectural history. The harsh winter climate presents another difficulty. “Kyiv is a city where money wins. We lack substantive 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 flatten important houses. Perov added that the plan for the capital is reminiscent 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 championed 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 decline of our society and governing institutions,” he argued. Loss and Disregard One notorious demolition site is in the waterside Podil neighbourhood. The street was the site of classical 19th-century houses. A developer who acquired the plot had pledged to preserve its picturesque brick facade. Shortly following the 2022 invasion, heavy machinery demolished it. Recently, a crane excavated foundations for a new shopping and business centre, monitored by a stern security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was little optimism for the remaining turquoise-painted houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while asserting they were doing “archaeological research”, he said. A previous regime also inflicted immense damage on the capital, redesigning its central boulevard after the second world war so it could allow for official processions. Continuing the Work One of Kyiv’s most renowned champions of historic buildings, a tour guide and blogger, was lost his life in 2022 while fighting 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 stone mansions in Kyiv, many constructed for the city’s wealthy business magnates. Only 80 of their authentic doors survived, she said. “It wasn’t foreign rockets 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 not a thing will be left,” she added. Chudna recently helped to restore a characterful creeper-covered 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 red door and period-correct railings; inside is a vintage sanitary facility and antique mirrors. “The war could continue for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now nothing 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 appreciate the past? “Sadly they are without education and taste. It’s all about business. We are striving as a country to move towards the west. But we are still some distance away from that standard,” he said. Previous ways of thinking remained, with people reluctant to take personal responsibility for their urban environment, he added. Resilience in Restoration Some buildings are collapsing because of official neglect. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa hidden behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons roosted among its shattered windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Frequently we lose the battle,” she conceded. “This activity is a form of healing for us. We are attempting to save all this heritage and beauty.” In the face of destruction and commercial interests, these activists continue their work, one building at a time, stating that to save a city’s soul, you must first cherish its walls.