How Architects In Ukraine are Preserving Their History

In April 2022, just two months into Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, at the second UN Forum of Mayors, British architect Norman Foster presented the mayor of the eastern city of Kharkiv with a masterplan for its reconstruction. "[He] was like, ‘Oh, we need to rebuild Kharkiv,’" architect Varvara Yahnysheva recalls. "People instantly want and need to rebuild whole areas, whole districts, and, if money comes, they really are able to do it very fast, but they don’t have time for preparation, consideration, or research." 

Postwar architecture usually happens when it is safe to move forward with rebuilding, ideally with thoughtful consideration of historic and social context and optimistic ideas about the future. Wartime architecture, on the contrary, is often little more than temporary refugee housing like tents and flat-packed prefabs. But in Ukraine, where millions have been displaced from their homes—some for the second or third time in their lives—reconstruction can’t wait. So, while the current invasion rages on, a young generation of Ukrainians are reimagining what home means and how to preserve the essence of what is being physically destroyed.

Yahnysheva left her home city of Donetsk in 2014 after finishing high school. By then, Moscow-backed separatists had established breakaway "republics" in the east, and Yahnysheva refused to live under occupation. In February of 2022, she joined many internally displaced people (IDP) in the western city of Ivano-Frankivsk, including her colleague Anastasiya Ponomaryova, cofounder of the Ukrainian design agency Urban Curators. Together with Metalab, an architectural NGO founded in 2017 that provides affordable housing and community workshops, Yahnysheva and Ponomaryova collaborated with other architects on Co-Haty, an initiative to convert unused buildings into homes for IDPs.

When starting Co-Haty, Yahnysheva and her colleagues thought they could easily adapt a communal co-living/co-working model to house large groups. That changed when they started work on converting a university dormitory. "We came to meet the people who would live in this house: one hundred people who had lived in a school gym for half a year," she says. "They were all kinds of people: grandmas, families, young guys, young girls. We met them and saw that, sometimes, they hate each other." 

They pivoted, focusing instead on providing as much private space and as many private bathrooms as possible. "The plans are really not that appealing and spacious, but it’s all for giving people more privacy and less reasons to fight," Yahnysheva says. To ensure the project’s success, some architects remain onsite for months to guide the new residents through the unfamiliar conditions, assuming a social worker–type role. "It was not our focus to be involved in the [building’s] operation, because it’s a lot of work, and we are not experts in this," she says. "But then we had to become experts." 

Other areas require different kinds of expertise. In smaller towns near Kyiv, where residents were able to return home only to find them heavily damaged, debris cleanup is an immediate need. From the capital, Ilia Serha leads fundraising efforts at the rebuilding NGO Smilyvi. Serha relocated to the capital from his home in Kherson, one of the many southern cities terrorized by the Russian military. Before February 2022, he ran a shading net manufacturing family business. Then, for six months, he was forced to live under occupation. "At that time, I had a young daughter, and my wife was eight months pregnant. Due to military clashes on the city outskirts and the absence of humanitarian corridors, we couldn't leave in time," he writes over text. "In August 2022, we left with our newborn son towards [Ukrainian-controlled territory], passing through 34 enemy checkpoints. It was a long journey." 

After settling in a friend’s apartment in Kyiv, Serha soon joined Smilyvi, run by a group of volunteers who were repairing homes. What started with a handful of people is now a larger organization backed by international partnerships. Aside from the completed and planned restoration of educational facilities for children in regions across the country, Smilyvi has documented and shared online more than 400 stories of families and individuals that the organization has pledged to help. 

Storytelling is important to many reconstruction groups. Livyj Bereh, another volunteer-led organization, has replaced the roofs of more than 350 houses in shelled areas, and it shares the harrowing accounts of each one on its Instagram account. The group is often able to complete a roof installation in one day, but it is in constant need of funding—each installation costs about 2,000 euros. Like many others, the group also organizes vehicle, drone, uniform, food supply, and ammunition deliveries to support Ukrainian defense in frontline regions.

"This resilience and mobilization doesn’t come from nowhere. It comes from generations of memories and pain that have been translated verbally and emotionally through people," says architect Sasha Topolnytska who, with architect Ashley Bigham and artist Betty Roytburd, curated the exhibition Constructing Hope: Ukraine at New York’s Center for Architecture, on view through September 3. The exhibition focuses on grassroots initiatives transforming the future of Ukraine, including Co-Haty, Livyj Bereh, and BRDA, a foundation repurposing discarded windows from Poland in Ukraine.