Lesia Danylenko proudly presented her recently completed front door. Local helpers had affectionately dubbed its ornate transom window the “croissant”, a playful reference to its bowed shape. “I think it’s more of a peacock,” she stated, appreciating its branch-like details. The refurbishment initiative at one of Kyiv’s pre-World War I art nouveau houses was supported by residents, who marked the occasion with several neighbourhood pavement parties.
It was also an act of defiance towards a neighboring state, she elaborated: “Our aim is to live like normal people in spite of the war. It’s about shaping our life in the optimal way. We’re not afraid of staying in our country. I had the option to depart, moving away to Italy. On the contrary, I’m here. The new entrance shows our allegiance to our homeland.”
“We strive to live like normal people in spite of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the optimal way.”
Preserving Kyiv’s architectural heritage could be considered unusual at a time when drone attacks regularly target the capital, bringing death and destruction. Since the start of the current year, aerial raids have been notably increased. After each attack, workers cover shattered windows with plywood and attempt, where possible, to salvage residential buildings.
Amid the bombs, a band of activists has been attempting to conserve the city’s deteriorating mansions, built in a whimsical style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the central Shevchenkivskyi district. It was erected in 1906 and was originally the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its exterior is decorated with horse chestnut leaves and delicate camomile flowers.
“These buildings represent symbols of Kyiv. These properties are quite rare nowadays,” Danylenko stated. The building was designed by an architect of Austrian-German origin. Several other buildings in the vicinity exhibit similar art nouveau elements, including asymmetry – with a pointed turret on one side and a projection on the other. One beloved house in the area boasts two sullen white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a imp.
But armed conflict is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who raze protected buildings, unethical officials and a administrative body unconcerned or resistant to the city’s profound architectural history. The bitter winter climate adds another burden.
“Kyiv is a city where money wins. We lack genuine 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 stated that the concept for the capital is reminiscent of a previous decade. 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 protracted conflict meant that the entire society was facing financial problems, he added, including judicial figures who curiously ruled in favour of dubious new-build schemes. “The longer this continues the more we see decline of our society and state bodies,” he remarked.
One notorious demolition site is in the waterside Podil neighbourhood. The street was lined with classical 19th-century houses. A developer who acquired the plot had agreed to preserve its charming brick facade. Shortly following the 2022 invasion, diggers tore it down. Recently, a crane dug foundations for a new commercial complex, monitored by a surly security guard.
Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was not much hope for the remaining coloured houses on the site. Sometimes developers demolished old properties while asserting they were doing “archaeological research”, he said. A former political system also caused immense damage on the capital, rebuilding its primary street after the second world war so it could allow for official processions.
One of Kyiv’s most notable defenders of historic buildings, a tour guide and blogger, was fell 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 brick-built mansions in Kyiv, many constructed for the city’s successful industrialists. Only 80 of their authentic doors remain, she said.
“It was not foreign rockets that got rid of them. It was us,” she said with regret. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we neglect architecture now nothing will be left,” she added. Chudna recently helped to restore a unique ivy-draped house built in 1910, which acts as the headquarters of her cultural organization and also serves 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.
“The war could last another 20 years. If we don’t defend 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 cherish the past? “Sadly they do not have education and taste. It’s all about business. We are attempting as a country to move towards the west. But we are still a way off from such cultural awareness,” he said. Outdated ways of thinking remained, with people hesitant to take personal responsibility for their architectural setting, he added.
Some buildings are crumbling because of institutional abandonment. Chudna showed a once-magical villa tucked away behind a modern hospital. Its roof had collapsed; pigeons made their home among its shattered windows; rubbish lay under a storybook tower. “Often we are unsuccessful,” she conceded. “This activity is a form of healing for us. We are trying to save all this history and aesthetic value.”
In the face of war and development pressures, these activists continue their work, one building at a time, arguing that to preserve a city’s heart, you must first save its walls.
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