The Visual Language of the War: Daryna Klochko

The Visual Language of the War: Daryna Klochko

What was your main activity beFore February 24?

—I was designing interfaces for applications and websites, which is still my main job. As a freelancer, I collaborate with various design studios on an ongoing basis. Last year, I worked extensively with Snig.digital. Additionally, I create illustrations. While it’s partly a hobby, it sometimes reaches a professional level.

Did you think that there could be a Full-scale invasion?

—I was following the news and sensed some tension about a potential invasion, but for a long time, I believed it was just “muscle flexing” and that a large-scale escalation wouldn’t happen.

I have a young child, and my husband and I had been planning a vacation in the Carpathians for some time. The day before the invasion, I took my child to my parents in Kharkiv. On February 24, I was supposed to return to Kyiv and then travel to Bukovel. My mother woke me up, and at first, I thought she was worried about me being late for the train. But then she said, “It has started,” and we could hear explosions. There was panic in Kharkiv, with traffic jams and queues everywhere, and taxis were unavailable. So, I took my child and we went to Kyiv, where we’ve been ever since.

When did you start drawing again?

—I started almost immediately. The first few days were filled with confusion, but I felt a strong need to express my feelings—through posting and creating something.

It seemed essential to convert all these emotions into understandable messages and images. Otherwise, I would either feel worse due to the accumulation of unexpressed emotions, or the moment would pass and remain unrecorded.

My creative Instagram account had been somewhat dormant, with only occasional posts. I considered it more of a private album. Even now, it remains a private space for me, but after February 24, the urge to draw intensified. It became a form of private therapy.

At a certain point, I noticed that there was some feedback—my drawings were being shared and received a lot of comments. I realized that I needed to take responsibility and not just record my thoughts in pictures, but to make the illustrations significant and meaningful. Initially, my work was aimed at a global audience, including Russian society. However, I soon recognized that it was more important to support Ukrainians, fostering a sense of strength and unity among us.

Have you noticed any feedback from people from other countries?

—Yes, definitely. During that period, there was a significant global interest in everything related to Ukraine. My illustrations, which I initially thought would go unnoticed, garnered a lot of attention. The statistics on my Instagram profile showed a substantial increase in engagement.

How has your activity changed after the beginning of the full-scale invasion?

—After the full-scale invasion began, I found myself working even more intensively across all areas. The volume of both my illustrations and design projects increased significantly. The urgency and emotional weight of the situation spurred me to dedicate even more time and effort to my work.

Please tell us more about your series of illustrations about borscht. How did the idea come about?

—Once, I drew a watercolor featuring a beet. While going through old pictures, I came across it and thought about personalizing this valiant beet and adding an interesting phrase to it. This was during a time when Ukrainians needed to feel unity and high morale, and I wanted to contribute to that sentiment. I digitized the picture and created two versions of the phrase: one censored and one uncensored.

My husband suggested expanding it into a whole series of drawings. Together, we came up with the idea that you could “cook” borscht with these pictures. I posted the first few “ingredients,” saw the positive reaction, and felt motivated to complete the series.

How does the eighth month of the full-scale war affect your creativity?

—At the beginning of the invasion, my creativity was driven by pure reaction: whenever something happened, it felt like a spring inside me that wouldn’t relax until I reacted by drawing something. Now, I have the emotional capacity to contemplate events for a longer time. I try to approach creativity in a more meaningful and careful way.

The initial reaction is powerful—it’s an impulse and often the most genuine response. However, sometimes it’s necessary to add more layers of meaning, to think about who you want to communicate with and what you want to convey.

There are some topics on which it’s better to remain silent. Now, before I start drawing, I explore my thoughts about what and why I want to express something.

In your opinion, what is the role of art in a war?

—For a long time, I held a skeptical view on this issue. Art doesn’t fight wars, end conflicts, or significantly alter the course of events. Of course, there are different genres and goals in creativity, but generally, I see art primarily as a means of psychological support, and secondarily, as a tool for recording events. Unlike photography, art can capture a broader range of contexts and emotions. It also provides emotional relief for both the creator and the audience.

I enjoy viewing others’ works, especially those that are funny and satirical, and I realize that my art can make someone laugh as well. When someone feels a sense of lightness and pleasure from seeing my picture, it serves as a therapeutic effect. This humorous relief is crucial here and now to help us stay strong and continue the fight.

Original version published on October 20, 2022 in collaboration with Online media outlet Svidomi. 

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