🔗 Share this article Safeguarding Kyiv's Architectural Legacy: A City Rebuilding Itself Under the Threat of War. Lesia Danylenko showed off with satisfaction her freshly fitted front door. The restoration team had given the moniker its ornate transom window the “crescent roll”, a playful reference to its curved shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a showy bird,” she commented, admiring its tree limb-inspired features. The restoration project at one of Kyiv’s turn-of-the-century art nouveau houses was funded through residents, who commemorated the work with a couple of neighbourhood pavement parties. It was also an demonstration of opposition towards a neighboring state, she clarified: “We strive to live like everyday people in spite of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the most positive way. We’re not afraid of staying in our country. I could have left, relocating to a foreign land. On the contrary, I’m here. The new entrance shows our commitment to our homeland.” “We strive to live like normal people in spite of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the best possible way.” Preserving Kyiv’s built legacy seems unusual at a moment when aerial assaults routinely fall the capital, resulting in death and destruction. Since the start of the current year, offensive operations have been notably increased. After each attack, workers cover blown-out windows with plywood and attempt, where possible, to secure residential buildings. Amid the Explosions, a Battle for Identity In the midst of war, a group of activists has been striving to conserve the city’s deteriorating mansions, built in a distinctive style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the downtown Shevchenkivskyi district. It was constructed in 1906 and was first the home of a prosperous fur dealer. Its facade is embellished with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers. “These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare today,” Danylenko noted. The building was designed by an architect of Central European origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity showcase comparable art nouveau characteristics, including asymmetry – with a medieval spire on one side and a projection on the other. One much-loved house in the area displays two sullen white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a demonic figure. Multiple Threats to Legacy But armed conflict is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unprincipled developers who knock down historically significant buildings, corrupt officials and a political leadership unconcerned or resistant to the city’s vast architectural history. The harsh winter climate adds another burden. “Kyiv is a city where capital prevails. We don’t have substantive political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He alleged the city’s leadership was friends with many of the developers who destroy important houses. Perov stated that the concept for the capital comes straight out of a bygone era. The mayor rejects these claims, saying they originate 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 killed. The protracted conflict meant that the entire society was facing economic hardship, he added, including those in the legal system who inexplicably ruled in favour of dubious new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see decline of our society and governing institutions,” he remarked. Destruction and Disregard One egregious location of loss is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was home to classical 19th-century houses. A developer who purchased the plot had pledged to preserve its charming brick facade. Shortly following the full-scale invasion, diggers demolished it. Recently, a crane excavated foundations for a new retail and office development, monitored by a unfriendly security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was faint chance for the remaining coloured houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while claiming they were doing “archaeological research”, he said. A former political system also caused immense damage on the capital, redesigning its primary street after the second world war so it could accommodate large-scale parades. Continuing the Work One of Kyiv’s most notable advocates of historic buildings, a cultural activist, was lost his life in 2022 while fighting in a eastern city. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were carrying on his important preservation work. There were initially 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many constructed for the city’s wealthy industrialists. Only 80 of their authentic doors remain, 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 little will be left,” she emphasized. Chudna recently helped to restore a unique vine-clad house built in 1910, which serves as the headquarters of her cultural organization and also serves as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and original-style railings; inside is a vintage sanitary facility 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 tenant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “quite special and a little bit cold”. Why do many locals not cherish the past? “Regrettably they are without education and taste. It’s all about business. We are attempting as a country to go to 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 urban environment, he added. Resilience in Action Some buildings are crumbling because of institutional abandonment. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa hidden behind a modern hospital. Its roof had caved in; pigeons roosted among its shattered windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Often we lose the battle,” 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 neglect, these citizens continue their work, one building at a time, believing that to rebuild a city’s identity, you must first cherish its walls.
Lesia Danylenko showed off with satisfaction her freshly fitted front door. The restoration team had given the moniker its ornate transom window the “crescent roll”, a playful reference to its curved shape. “In my opinion it’s more of a showy bird,” she commented, admiring its tree limb-inspired features. The restoration project at one of Kyiv’s turn-of-the-century art nouveau houses was funded through residents, who commemorated the work with a couple of neighbourhood pavement parties. It was also an demonstration of opposition towards a neighboring state, she clarified: “We strive to live like everyday people in spite of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the most positive way. We’re not afraid of staying in our country. I could have left, relocating to a foreign land. On the contrary, I’m here. The new entrance shows our commitment to our homeland.” “We strive to live like normal people in spite of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the best possible way.” Preserving Kyiv’s built legacy seems unusual at a moment when aerial assaults routinely fall the capital, resulting in death and destruction. Since the start of the current year, offensive operations have been notably increased. After each attack, workers cover blown-out windows with plywood and attempt, where possible, to secure residential buildings. Amid the Explosions, a Battle for Identity In the midst of war, a group of activists has been striving to conserve the city’s deteriorating mansions, built in a distinctive style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the downtown Shevchenkivskyi district. It was constructed in 1906 and was first the home of a prosperous fur dealer. Its facade is embellished with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers. “These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare today,” Danylenko noted. The building was designed by an architect of Central European origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity showcase comparable art nouveau characteristics, including asymmetry – with a medieval spire on one side and a projection on the other. One much-loved house in the area displays two sullen white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a demonic figure. Multiple Threats to Legacy But armed conflict is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unprincipled developers who knock down historically significant buildings, corrupt officials and a political leadership unconcerned or resistant to the city’s vast architectural history. The harsh winter climate adds another burden. “Kyiv is a city where capital prevails. We don’t have substantive political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He alleged the city’s leadership was friends with many of the developers who destroy important houses. Perov stated that the concept for the capital comes straight out of a bygone era. The mayor rejects these claims, saying they originate 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 killed. The protracted conflict meant that the entire society was facing economic hardship, he added, including those in the legal system who inexplicably ruled in favour of dubious new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see decline of our society and governing institutions,” he remarked. Destruction and Disregard One egregious location of loss is in the riverside Podil neighbourhood. The street was home to classical 19th-century houses. A developer who purchased the plot had pledged to preserve its charming brick facade. Shortly following the full-scale invasion, diggers demolished it. Recently, a crane excavated foundations for a new retail and office development, monitored by a unfriendly security guard. Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was faint chance for the remaining coloured houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while claiming they were doing “archaeological research”, he said. A former political system also caused immense damage on the capital, redesigning its primary street after the second world war so it could accommodate large-scale parades. Continuing the Work One of Kyiv’s most notable advocates of historic buildings, a cultural activist, was lost his life in 2022 while fighting in a eastern city. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were carrying on his important preservation work. There were initially 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many constructed for the city’s wealthy industrialists. Only 80 of their authentic doors remain, 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 little will be left,” she emphasized. Chudna recently helped to restore a unique vine-clad house built in 1910, which serves as the headquarters of her cultural organization and also serves as a film set and museum. The property has a new crimson entrance and original-style railings; inside is a vintage sanitary facility 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 tenant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “quite special and a little bit cold”. Why do many locals not cherish the past? “Regrettably they are without education and taste. It’s all about business. We are attempting as a country to go to 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 urban environment, he added. Resilience in Action Some buildings are crumbling because of institutional abandonment. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa hidden behind a modern hospital. Its roof had caved in; pigeons roosted among its shattered windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Often we lose the battle,” 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 neglect, these citizens continue their work, one building at a time, believing that to rebuild a city’s identity, you must first cherish its walls.