Elara is a seasoned journalist and digital content creator with a passion for uncovering stories that matter.
Lesia Danylenko showed off with satisfaction her recently completed front door. The restoration team had playfully nicknamed its graceful transom window the “crescent roll”, a playful reference to its curved shape. “I think it’s more of a peacock,” she stated, admiring its branch-like features. The refurbishment initiative at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was funded through residents, who celebrated with a couple of impromptu pavement parties.
It was also an expression of resistance in the face of a foreign power, she explained: “We are trying to live like normal people regardless of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the best possible way. Fear does not drive us of living in our homeland. I could have left, relocating to another European nation. On the contrary, I’m here. The new entrance represents our dedication to our homeland.”
“We are trying to live like normal people despite the war. It’s about shaping our life in the optimal way.”
Safeguarding Kyiv’s architectural heritage seems paradoxical at a moment when drone attacks regularly target the capital, resulting in death and destruction. Since the beginning of the current year, aerial raids have been dramatically stepped up. After each strike, workers seal shattered windows with plywood and endeavor, where possible, to secure residential buildings.
Despite the violence, a collective of activists has been working to conserve the city’s decaying mansions, built in a distinctive style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the central Shevchenkivskyi district. It was built in 1906 and was first the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its exterior is embellished with horse chestnut leaves and fine camomile flowers.
“They are 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 in the vicinity showcase analogous art nouveau features, including a lack of symmetry – with a pointed turret 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.
But armed conflict is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who knock down historically significant buildings, corrupt officials and a administrative body apathetic or hostile to the city’s vast architectural history. The severe winter climate imposes another challenge.
“Kyiv is a city where money wins. We lack genuine political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He alleged the city’s leadership was closely associated with many of the developers who flatten important houses. Perov added that the concept for the capital comes straight out of a different time. The mayor denies these claims, attributing them from political rivals.
Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once protected older properties were now fighting on the frontline or had been lost. The lengthy conflict meant that everyone was facing financial problems, he added, including judicial figures who mysteriously ruled in favour of questionable new-build schemes. “The longer this continues the more we see deterioration of our society and governing institutions,” he argued.
One egregious example of destruction is in the waterside Podil neighbourhood. The street was the site of classical 19th-century houses. A developer who acquired the plot had committed to preserve its attractive brick facade. A day after the 2022 invasion, heavy machinery demolished it. Recently, a crane dug foundations for a new retail and office development, observed 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 destroyed old properties while claiming they were doing “archaeological research”, he said. A former political system also caused immense damage on the capital, redesigning its main thoroughfare after the second world war so it could allow for military vehicles.
One of Kyiv’s most notable champions of historic buildings, a tour guide and blogger, was fell in 2022 while serving in a eastern city. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were continuing his crucial preservation work. There were originally 3,500 masonry mansions in Kyiv, many erected for the city’s prosperous industrialists. Only 80 of their authentic doors are still in existence, she said.
“It wasn’t foreign rockets that destroyed them. It was us,” she lamented. “The war could continue for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now nothing will be left,” she continued. Chudna recently helped to restore a characterful ivy-draped 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 period-correct railings; inside is a historic washroom and antique mirrors.
“The war could go on for 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 value the past? “Regrettably 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 such cultural awareness,” he said. Previous ways of thinking persisted, with people unwilling to take personal responsibility for their urban environment, he added.
Some buildings are collapsing because of institutional abandonment. Chudna showed a once-magical villa concealed behind a modern hospital. Its roof had fallen; pigeons roosted among its smashed windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Often we don’t win,” she admitted. “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 preserve a city’s identity, you must first protect its walls.
Elara is a seasoned journalist and digital content creator with a passion for uncovering stories that matter.