Protecting the Capital's Heritage: A City Reconstructing Itself in the Shadow of War.

Lesia Danylenko proudly presented her newly installed front door. Volunteers had affectionately dubbed its graceful transom window the “crescent roll”, a lighthearted tribute to its arched shape. “I think it’s more of a showy bird,” she remarked, gazing at its twig-detailed details. The restoration project at one of Kyiv’s early 20th-century art nouveau houses was supported by residents, who marked the occasion with several impromptu pavement parties.

It was also an demonstration of resistance against a neighboring state, she clarified: “Our aim is to live like normal people regardless of the war. It’s about shaping our life in the optimal way. We’re not afraid of living in Ukraine. I had the option to depart, relocating to a foreign land. Conversely, I’m here. The new entrance shows our dedication to our homeland.”

“We strive to live like everyday people despite the war. It’s about shaping our life in the optimal way.”

Preserving Kyiv’s architectural heritage seems paradoxical at a moment when missile strikes regularly target the capital, resulting in death and destruction. Since the onset of the current year, aerial raids have been significantly intensified. After each attack, workers board up blown-out windows with plywood and attempt, where possible, to salvage residential buildings.

Among the Explosions, a Campaign for History

Despite the violence, a band of activists has been attempting to preserve the city’s crumbling mansions, built in a whimsical style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the central Shevchenkivskyi district. It was built in 1906 and was originally the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its facade is decorated with horse chestnut leaves and delicate camomile flowers.

“They are symbols of Kyiv. These properties are uncommon today,” 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 a lack of symmetry – with a gothic tower on one side and a projection on the other. One beloved house in the area features two unhappy white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a devil.

Dual Threats to Heritage

But external attacks is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face unprincipled developers who raze listed buildings, corrupt officials and a political leadership indifferent or opposed to the city’s rich architectural history. The severe winter climate adds another difficulty.

“Kyiv is a city where wealth dictates. We don’t have real political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He asserted the city’s mayor was allied with many of the developers who bulldoze important houses. Perov added that the vision for the capital is reminiscent of a different time. The mayor rejects these claims, stating they come from political rivals.

Perov said many of the public-spirited activists who once protected older properties were now serving in the military or had been fallen. The lengthy conflict meant that all citizens was facing monetary strain, he added, including those in the legal system who mysteriously ruled in favour of questionable new-build schemes. “The longer this goes on the more we see decline of our society and governing institutions,” he contended.

Destruction and Neglect

One egregious location of loss is in the waterside Podil neighbourhood. The street was the site of classical 19th-century houses. A developer who purchased the plot had pledged to preserve its charming brick facade. A day after the full-scale invasion, excavators razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane dug foundations for a new retail and office development, observed by a unfriendly 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 wrought immense damage on the capital, rebuilding its central boulevard after the second world war so it could accommodate military vehicles.

Carrying the Torch

One of Kyiv’s most renowned champions of historic buildings, a cultural activist, was lost his life in 2022 while fighting in the frontline. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were continuing his crucial preservation work. There were at one time 3,500 masonry mansions in Kyiv, many erected for the city’s wealthy industrialists. Only 80 of their period doors remain, she said.

“It was not foreign rockets that destroyed them. It was us,” she lamented. “The war could go on for another 20 years. If we neglect architecture now not a thing will be left,” she added. Chudna recently helped to restore a characterful ivy-draped 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 vermilion portal and authentic railings; inside is a period bathroom 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 resident, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “incredibly atmospheric and a little bit cold”. Why do many citizens not value the past? “Sadly they are without education and taste. It’s all about business. We are trying as a country to integrate with the west. But we are still not yet close from civilization,” he said. Soviet-era ways of thinking persisted, with people hesitant to take personal responsibility for their built surroundings, he added.

Resilience in Preservation

Some buildings are falling apart because of institutional abandonment. Chudna indicated a once-magical villa tucked away behind a modern hospital. Its roof had caved in; pigeons roosted among its broken windows; refuse lay under a whimsical tower. “Frequently we don’t win,” she conceded. “Preservation work is a form of healing for us. We are trying to save all this past and aesthetic value.”

In the face of war and development pressures, these volunteers continue their work, one door at a time, arguing that to rebuild a city’s heart, you must first cherish its stones.