What did you do before February 24?
—I am an artist, art historian, and the art director of Hiatus Games, a board game company. Before the full-scale war, my research activity focused on issues of Ukrainian identity, memory, and myth. I am interested in how signs work, how you can interact with them, and how people identify themselves. Currently, I am pursuing my PhD, and as part of my thesis research, I study sacred plastic arts: monuments, sculptures, crosses, and other sacred objects in urban spaces. I also explore how sacred spaces are arranged and imbued with meaning, and how historical events are commemorated. One of the key questions for me is, “What is memory?” My research and creative works delve into how individuals memorize and reproduce these memories. From the concept of memory, the concepts of myth and identity naturally emerge.
What format did you work in?
—First and foremost, I engage in underground art—specifically, I draw on abandoned buildings. This allows me to explore how people perceive altered spaces when unexpected signs appear. Additionally, I create easel graphic arts, which are hand-drawn pieces on paper using egg tempera or Indian ink. These works focus less on space and more on playing with signs and creating images that lack a definitive meaning, allowing for varied audience interpretations.
I also work with multimedia installations. Soon, you will see my work on the formation of a new identity and myth. As an illustrator, I create war posters. Before the full-scale invasion, my studies focused on society and myself, observing how signs and specific narratives function.
The myth and identity we held before February 24 are strikingly different from what we’ve discovered about ourselves during these months.
Ukraine is not just about vyshyvankas and peasant huts. We exist in the present, and we are not merely products of ancient traditions. We are an independent nation with its own history, but the past is just that—the past. Our generation is achieving new feats, often surpassing those of our ancestors. The signs and images we produce now will be remembered and replicated by our descendants, much like how we remember the Cossacks and the insurgents. One of our crucial tasks is to manifest this evolving identity in our artworks.
Many illustrators working on the global market face the challenge of representing Ukraine and drawing attention to current events. The world will no longer be moved by another depiction of Russian atrocities. We will liberate Kherson and Mariupol, and witness thousands of killed and tortured people, but we will struggle to recapture the world’s attention. The global audience has already seen these horrors after Bucha was deoccupied. You can depict a dove of peace being shot, but this image won’t uniquely represent Ukraine. You can illustrate the Ukrainian flag; it’s recognizable, but it doesn’t convey our full identity. You can portray a woman in traditional Ukrainian attire being tortured by a Russian soldier against the backdrop of a burnt village, but a French observer might think we’re stuck in the 19th century.
One of my key tasks is to move beyond old stereotypes and understand the new ones we are shaping because we are the ones forming them. It’s crucial to evoke empathy. For example, if someone in Florida hears about a massacre happening far across the ocean, you need to convince them that this should concern them. On one hand, you might say, “This war will affect you too.”
However, in 99% of cases, they won’t believe it. Even if you mention the possibility of nuclear war, their reaction might be, “Fire the guns as you wish, sort it out yourselves, give up Ukraine, but keep the nukes.” This is a natural reaction to perceived threats—they assume we are trying to scare them because it’s not the Russians making these claims but Ukrainians who must be “denazified.” This message is quite dangerous.
Every nation has its peculiarities, which means that a tailored set of images and messages is needed. For instance, Germans usually prefer straightforward facts and are less receptive to the horrors of war. The Poles, due to their geographical and cultural proximity to us, grasp both metaphors and real threats quickly. Americans often need explanations about how close the war is and its impact on them.
It’s important to evoke not only empathy but also sympathy. Empathy is feeling for someone else—the ‘other’—while sympathy is feeling for someone who is perceived as similar.
Striking a balance between showing our unique identity and demonstrating our shared humanity is a challenge that the Ukrainian nation is addressing as we forge our identity.
Ukraine has asserted its presence on the global stage, but now we need to define who we are in this arena.
The beginning of the Full-scale war, what was it like for you?
—I was among those who believed that Russia wouldn’t go beyond the eastern regions of Ukraine and Crimea. I thought this sabre-rattling was just a tactic to raise the stakes and that starting such a terrible bloodshed seemed unlikely. I’m not sure how much I truly believed in that notion, but I tried to convince myself.
I live in Lviv. My girlfriend and I were awakened at 6 a.m. by a call from her mother. The first day of the invasion is still a blur; it’s hard for me to recall it clearly now.
What did creativity mean to you in the early days of the invasion?
—The news was overwhelming, and we were constantly refreshing the feed. By the next day, I realized I needed to do something. I created three artworks—this act became a form of therapy, a way to alleviate my pain for a while. The feedback I received showed me that people needed this. Alongside the news, people needed reflection and images.
I remembered that I had studied signs and images, which meant I could work with what I knew and what others genuinely needed. People from other countries required these images to understand the situation. Images can convey meaning and significance without many words, and well-crafted visuals are eye-catching—they grab attention.
What symbols and signs can already be distinguished in this ongoing war?
Many symbols are fleeting and emerge from current memes, which may become ingrained in our imagination but only last for a short time. However, some symbols have proven more enduring. For example, the meme about a woman from Henichesk advising Russians to put sunflower seeds in their pockets evolved into a symbol of the sunflower. Watermelons also became a symbol, although this trend has diminished somewhat as summer has ended and watermelon is a seasonal fruit.
The white cross, which became one of the symbols of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, has a long tradition dating back to the Cossacks but was also popular only for a brief period. Even seemingly trivial symbols, like the Schweinkarausche or swinedogs, embed themselves in our identity in one way or another.
We will remember symbols like the ceramic rooster figurine on the wall. Many symbols are associated with weapons—such as Bayraktars, Javelins, and Neptunes.
The Ghost of Kyiv, in a certain sense, is a synthetic myth that emerged in the early days of the invasion. This is an example of rapid mythologizing, creating an image that is almost entirely independent of any specific individual. It was important to me that the Ghost of Kyiv was not tied to a specific man or woman; doing so would have undermined the myth’s power. Instead, the Ghost of Kyiv became a collective symbol of the pilots who defended our skies. This collective image, detached from any particular person, helps sustain the myth because it represents the collective effort of many heroes.
What we believe in has great power. Our collective faith, which drives us to achieve the impossible, creates a miracle that feels more real than what might have been expected. We might have only been able to hold for three days, but we achieved the unthinkable. This symbol represents the miracle of many heroes.
How did people respond to your work? In particular, were there responses or proposals from abroad?
—For me, the most unexpectedly pleasant responses came from Russians (laughs). That’s why I don’t block those who rage in the comments.
Regarding international responses, there have been numerous exhibitions across Europe, Asia, South America, and the United States. It’s been challenging to keep track of everything, especially at the start of the full-scale war when there was an overwhelming number of offers for exhibitions and events from around the world. One key event was my personal exhibition in Tbilisi, dedicated to the defenders of Mariupol. Recently, my work was also featured in the “When Walls Talk” exhibition, which highlights 100 years of European history through posters, at the House of European History at the European Parliament in Brussels. We attended as part of the Ukrainian delegation and discussed the war.
There is substantial global support for Ukraine, evident in the blue and yellow flags displayed everywhere. However, it sometimes feels like people are living in a fantasy, believing that negotiations or compromises are possible. This mindset is understandable, given that European civilization has long embraced dialogue as a solution to disputes. But with Russia, that approach doesn’t work. It’s crucial to go out there and tell the truth.
The more of us who do so, the quieter are the voices of Russians.
Additionally, I should mention the exhibition “Ukraine. Under a Different Sky” at the Ujazdowski Castle Centre for Contemporary Art in Warsaw. There, twenty-one posters from the Arcana Belli Ukrainian tarot deck were first exhibited. I created the first card before March 8, as a kind of congratulation for International Women’s Day, depicting the Ukrainian empress as the embodiment of Venus. Currently, I’ve created the Major Arcana—21 cards—and am working on a 78-card deck that will be printed soon.
How does the ninth month of the full-scale war affect your creativity?
—As before, I continue to create war posters that address current events. It’s important to produce these posters to ensure that our messages reach the media spaces of people in other countries who may be fatigued by the constant news and less engaged with the war.
However, I have also resumed working on long-term projects that go beyond immediate events or my personal responses to them. These projects involve a deeper exploration of culture itself. I analyze various phenomena, raising issues that require thoughtful consideration to gain a more profound understanding of our global confrontation. My focus has shifted slightly to encompass broader cultural analyses, reflecting on the deeperunderstanding of our global confrontation.
Original version published on October 27, 2022 in collaboration with Online media outlet Svidomi.