What did you do before February 24?
I was mostly a yoga teacher. On February 24, I was supposed to lead a group on a yoga tour to Egypt. My suitcases were packed with summer clothes, postcards, and some butter we planned to give to our participants as gifts — all of which I had to leave at home. I taught yoga at Maharaja in Kharkiv, which I dare say is the best yoga center in Ukraine.
I also drew; I always draw. I have a yoga clothing project where I design prints, adapt them to patterns, print on fabric, and sell yoga clothing, including various tops and leggings. I decided to combine my hobbies, and that’s how this project was born.
I made holiday postcards and sold them in my friends’ coffee shops. Is it even possible to live in Kharkiv and not open a coffee shop? (laughing)
So, if we talk about art, then your creativity was more devoted to postcards and clothing, right?
Art is what inspires me. For example, once I went to the Frida Kahlo exhibition in Budapest, came back home inspired, and dedicated a print to it. I also looked through some books on art and created a piece inspired by Rousseau’s jungle scenes.
I have been practicing art all my life, so it has always been a constant background activity for me. Whether I was working as a wedding decorator or creating prints for T-shirts, I was always drawing. When I took up yoga, I continued to draw as well.
Can you describe your day of February 24, 2022?
I was in Kharkiv, and I woke up to the sounds of explosions.
Our flat is on the outskirts of the city, and the explosions were close to us. You might have heard in the news that Chuhuiv was bombed — it was literally 10 kilometers from my house. When there was another explosion very close, 5 kilometers away in Dokuchaievo, a small village with a university and an arboretum where I used to jog, I knew I had no choice but to get in the car and leave. That explosion was a clear sign to flee.
I woke up, and you know how cats jump up with all four paws at once? That’s exactly how I did it. I woke up, jumped up, and within a few seconds, I was standing at the door dressed in jeans and a sweater. I packed my go-bag with nuts, dried apricots, and hydrogen peroxide. I understood that the war had started, but I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. There was nothing on the news. Then I called my relatives, and they confirmed that they also heard explosions.
How has the war affected your work? And how do you reflect during the war?
For the first two days, I did nothing. I started drawing on the third day. I drew a pigeon with a rifle and a helmet. This was my first illustration, and I decided to make stickers from it. Since then, I’ve been drawing consistently. I have my tablet with me, and I’m glad I was smart enough to take it along, because otherwise, I don’t know how I would have drawn. Initially, we went to a country house in the Kharkiv region, but we heard explosions every day from a neighboring village. When it was bombed, we left for Dnipro. It was challenging to create art to the sounds of explosions.
In my creative work, I try to draw from my feelings, and the illustrations come naturally. I just draw, draw, and draw. This is how it happened with the trident, which I created over two days before March 8.
When photos and videos from Bucha were made public, I was in a stupor. I knew that these emotions needed to take shape and that I had to do something productive instead of just scrolling through my feed. Only in the evening did I manage to draw burning matryoshka dolls. This picture emerged from the feelings accumulated throughout the day. While drawing, I found it unpleasant to draw matryoshka dolls, but I felt compelled to do it.
But to kill a matryoshka doll, you have to draw it.
In your opinion, can art become another support in the war? Or is art about reflection?
I believe that art has indeed become a support. When I look at how I react to my own work, I think that others probably react in the same way. Art provides a sense of connection and a means of processing emotions during such challenging times.
Art has now become an element of fight.
First of all, when pictures spread all over the world, people from other countries can see not only the horrors of war, but also the resilience and strength of Ukraine as a significant element of global culture.
This helps to elevate a whole layer of Ukrainian culture, making it popular and appreciated. All this symbolism is finally being revived. Even Andrii Khlyvniuk, while singing “Chervona Kalyna” (Red Viburnum), probably never imagined he would be performing with Pink Floyd. Now, art is helping to popularize Ukraine as something positive, not just as a place of conflict.
It seems to me that no previous war has seen such a cultural boom as we are witnessing in Ukraine. This is a cultural breakthrough, where the world is learning about Ukraine not only because of the war, but also because of our talented people.
Original version published on September 1, 2022 in collaboration with Online media outlet Svidomi.