Ukrainians' Art Code

UKRAINIANS’ ART CODE
A series of illustrations called “I miss

you” by a 15-year-old Ukrainian girl
Khrystyna Danko
Special illustrations of the
Ukrainian artist Olha Wilson
Найтрагічніші історії війни в малюнках зображає українська художниця
Ольга Wilson.
“I would like to share my "war notes" made
through drawings. We have only one home –
it’s our planet. We should keep it safe.
In the 21st century we, all people and

countries, should evolve and never act from a
position of force, but from a position of
negotiations, diplomacy, rationalism and
consensus. It’s the main goal of humanity.
War is the worst mistake.
The best solution for war is never to start it.
We all are connected. Our energies and souls

are connected.
Bucha... Our hearts are shattered into
thousands of pieces. The beautiful hand
Use your energy to create good, not evil.”
belongs to Iryna Folkina. We won't forget.
Varvara Lohvyn, artist from Kyiv,
turns anti-tank obstacles into pieces of аrt
Yurii Vovkohon
“We live and must create,
remembering the responsibility
for our own lives and the lives of
others,”
Wounds
video installation
Yurii Vovkohon
Text of author
Виставка відбулася в рамках

Міжнародного фестивалю
аудіовізуального мистецтва
ТЕТРАМАТИКА.
War inflicts wounds. Not only to people. Not only to the body. Some of them heal over,
some - almost forgotten, leaving only scars for memories. Some of them open and hurt
all the time. Some wounds inflict death. Some wounds scarier then death. Wounds
remind, how vulnerable life is. Wounds keep asking, what for? Wounds are the evidence
of big, incomprehensible game.
Memories
War can be an exciting action and heavy burden in the same time. Mix of heroism and fear, hope
and disappointment, confidence and doubts strengthens perception and evokes taste to poetry.
Soldiers pick up pretentious nicknames, so environment boils from variety of Angels, Devils,
Apostles, Monks, Schwarz, Rambo, Dante, Leopards, Leon, Hawks and so on. Geographical
locations named as ‘House of Sun’ or ‘Cottage of Rain’. Guys start to write glorious poems,
enjoy beauty of nature, notice emotional shades.
The spring was about to begin. We were defending Pisky at that time. Holding ‘Sky’ and ‘Earth’
locations. I was sitting among crippled trees, looking around and listening. Lets say, Batya is
sitting next to me – a hefty one, some sort of builder – artilleryman from Sumskiy region. Batya is
looking at jay, which flies among broken branches, and smoking. He takes a breath and speaks to
jay: ‘What are you up to, jay? Looking where to make a nest, are you? Flying and thinking: you
are fucking morons, fighting, but I don’t have a place to settle down. Fuck your mother, aren’t you
all stupid? Yes, jay, this is what it is.’
Metaphor
Im sitting and looking at the teared trees, examining every wound. One day
warmth comes, trees returns back to life, juice dripping from wounds.
Its like blood. Trees are wounded the same way as people in this war.
Its like tears. Because not only body cripples.
Its like life force, which flows out by drop. Same way us, less desire to change with
each day. Same way our people, loose strength with each killed soldier.
This war like a wound, which prevents from growing. This war is a wound already,
but better it stays bloody than rotten.
Time
Time to time shooting calms down, so I hear like juice drips from trees. Drop-
drop-drop…. Im all day in this rhythm. My heartbeat tuned in to the rhythm and
blood circulate along with the juice from trees. Also I feel light breeze and
warmth from sun. I feel joy of life. And ask myself, whether Ill be alive tomorrow
to hear that drop-drop-drop?.. Suddenly whistle of mine. I instantly jump to the
trench. Explosion. One more. Somebody screams on radio. Shooting. Silence. I
climb on the surface. There are more wounds on the trees.
Fear
All alive fears wounds. Each time when I see new wounds on the trees, I fit them
to myself. Choosing splinters. Just a few minutes ago I could be staying there,
surgeon would be pulling the metal splinters out of me.
We hide behind trees. They shoot at us, but cripple them. This is our common war
they don’t know about.
Compassion
Trees don’t even know I’m here. Its parallel form of life. They don’t even have
senses, to find out there are people with their wars. Maybe same way we are the
random victims of forces, which existence we can’t grasp.
Vasyl Stefanyshyn "Ми воюємо за
Ukrainian painter майбутнє наших
дітей"
«Найважче — без
обіймів рідних»
"Ми воюємо, щоб ви

жили"
«НАПРЯМ»
«РЕЗОНАНС»
Art provides a vital language to transcribe what is happening.
Ukrainian artists are trying to organise a series of cultural events for refugees: concerts,
plays, films, exhibitions – so many daily events that could help refugees “unwind”.
As the world collapses, art comforts people in the face of an unbearable reality. The purpose
of these cultural events is not to directly express war or look at it differently. It is mainly to
relieve people afflicted by war and forced in exile.
Remarkably, art is not presented as it would be in peacetime. It does not seek to make war
intelligible, or offer a break in which the world, in its cruelty, can find expression. Rather,
it seeks to supplement war. It encourages uprising and a refusal to give up among all those
who still have strength. Lastly, it records memory. All these works produced as the war
rages capture the people’s accomplishments, actions and words, helping them escape
transience. Artists hope to make us not just viewers but also witnesses.
Denys Metelin, a street artist
Viktor Kudin, painting urban text

Thank you for your attention!

Ukrainians' Art Code

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UKRAINIANS’ ART CODE

A series of illustrations called “I miss

In the 21st century we, all people and

We all are connected. Our energies and souls

Виставка відбулася в рамках

Its like tears. Because not only body cripples.

"Ми воюємо, щоб ви

Denys Metelin, a street artist

Viktor Kudin, painting urban text

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