Kharkiv drama theater “Berezil” playing “Shevchenko 2.0”, a play critical of Russian heritage in Ukrainian history. The event happened despite the city government’s ban of large public gatherings in the state-owned buildings. The trusted audience had to meet in secret, informed by word of mouth.
Dmytro Petrov, 45, is an actor. Since the gathering restrictions limited the performances of theater “Berezil”, he has lived in a state of artistic and existential crisis. He occasionally visited the frontlinesand performed for a handful of troops in the trenches. Now he’s getting ready to join the Ukrainian Armed Forces himself, feeling the purpose in his life again, not as an artist, but as a soldier.
A conversation table reprepresenting Kharkiv, a part of the exhibition in the Literature Museum. The event challenges the set stereotype of Kharkiv as a city of steel and concrete. The string-bound figurines of people, buildings and greenery symbolize the delicate relationships of objects they represent. The visitors, who may decide to hide behind symbolic masks, are encouraged to discuss troubling topics of war, death and loss in a safe but thoughtful setting.
Konstantyn Zorkin, 39, an artist of many disciplines and a teacher, in his underground workshop. In the past he had many collaborators, but most of them left the city after the invasion. Now Konstantyn works here alone, tirelessly painting and sculpting, building a varied collection of wartime works. The purpose of art – binding local context and eternal themes – is especially important for him during the war.
Guests hang outside the Switch Bar just before the curfew. After the closure of competing venues, Switch Bar remains the only place in Kharkiv hosting LGBT-themed shows and performances for the community.
Drag queens Evelina Smile (32, left) and Katy Loboda (24, right), getting ready for the performance in Switch Bar. Evelina, a cook, English language teacher and experienced drag performer, sees the wartime shows as positive but detached distraction from the grim reality. They hope that the audience will be able to enjoy the shows more fully after the war, appreciating bright and liberated messages in all their unconventional glory.
Drag queens Kira Wazovski (35), Evelina Smile, Monika (27) and Katy Loboda, performing on the Switch Bar stage. Katy Loboda is the youngest of drag artists at Switch Bar. They have been an army cook for four years, and received a bullet wound in the beginning of a full scale invasion, defending the city. While not providing much money, the shows are a desperately needed distraction, especially now, when the furloughs are scarce. Katy can't imagine their well being without an inclusive place to express themselves without ridicule.
Hamlet Zinkivskyi (37), paints “loves me… loves me not…” on the fragmentation grenade in his home workshop. Hamlet is called “Ukrainian Banksy”, his art adorning many streets in Kharkiv and other places,and is a renowned persona in the international street art community. He often repurposes war trophies and army equipment into art pieces and sells them for substantial sums.
Hamlet repaints one of his street pieces, changing the caption “Peace is when you’re sitting at home” from Russian to Ukrainian. Until 2018, all of his works were captioned in Russian, regardless of his pro-Ukrainian views. After the start of full scale Russian aggression, he decided to stay in Kharkiv, despite receiving many hosting proposals from prestigious art residencies in Europe. He feels a deep connection with Ukraineand especially Kharkiv, where he was born and raised. He uses his art to help fund the needs of his numerous army friends.
Muravskyi Shlyakh, a group of Kharkiv folklorists perpetuating folk songs and stories of Sloboda, Khakriv’s ethnographic region. Since the beginning of the invasion, during the sieges, they sang in city parks and crowded subway stations used as shelters. In spring of 2022 the group launched a two year project called “Folklore and war”, traveling to detached frontline villages to preserve old Ukrainian songs and cultural legacy, shared by the elderly citizens.
Serhiy Petrov, 48, a world-renowned artist and founder of Bob Basset studio that makes masks, bags, bracelets and other accessories in the techno-romanticism genre. Many of Bob Basset's works are in private collections around the world, appear in music videos of famous artists like Slipknot or Ghost, and are appreciated by the likes of director David Lynch and writer William Gibson. Feeling closely tied to Kharkhiv and supporting the Army efforts by auctioning many of his works, Serhiy decided to stay in the city, alone in a house with a window broken by a rocket; he couldn’t bring himself to fix it, seeing it as a memento. His wife and child evacuated and currently live in the West.
Artem Bubeltsev (22) a skater, performing tricks over an anti-tank defense left in Kharkiv’s city center.
Oksana Dmitrieva (47), main director of Kharkiv puppet theater, among the puppets displayed in the theater's museum exhibition.
In addition to the ban of performances on the main stage, Kharkiv puppet theater experiences severe underfunding. Due to money problems, Oksana has not been able to pay the artist and crew salaries since Apriland was forced to send the staff on leave. The future of the theater, just as many other venues, remains unsure.
“Keeping balance”, a street art piece by Hamlet Zinkivskyi.
Ilya Sayenko (35), a rock musician and entrepreneur, recently wounded in a car crash during a volunteer trip to the frontlines. Ilya was a founder and owner of “LF” club in Kharkiv, the only venue open 24/7 since the beginning of full scale invasion, hosting civilians as well as Ukrainian and international soldiers on furloughs. In the past two years Ilya delivered some 20,000 burgers to the frontlines, evacuated hundreds of people from war-ridden areas and ran concerts in the besieged city to raise money for the Army. On his trips he always carries a grenade in case he gets caught. He plans to continue his various voluntary endeavors after a moment of respite.
Lead Singer Tamara Harmash (60), accompanied by the orchestra conducted by Dmytro Morozov (47), on the stage of the Kharkiv State Academic Opera and Ballet Theatre. The massive basement of the monumental theater building has been repurposed into a literal and metaphorical underground concert hall. Despite the peculiar location, the performances are typically packed with people.
After the outbreak of full scale war, due to the relative safety of its underground auditorium and backstage, the Kharkiv Opera and Ballet Theatre still has official permission from the city government to host performances. In today’s Kharkiv, it’s a rarity.
Kharkiv opera artists await their turn to perform on the underground theater stage.
Dina Chmuzh (26) brushing a poem on boarded windows, which are a frequent sight on the streets of Kharkiv. For Dina, who left the city during the initial invasion but then came back, making art is having a dialogue with the city, with recurring themes of loss, resilience, feminism and historical memory. The boarded windows, her canvas of choice, draw passerbys’ attention and mask the brutality of destruction.
Oksana Rubanyak (21), poetess and commander of the Reconnaissance unit, 153rd Separate Mechanised Brigade. Coming from the Carpathian Mountains, she started as a machine gunner but grew to the positionof a commander before turning 22. The poetry accompanied her during the full-scale invasion, and became a means to forge her dark experiences into a warning message to the future.
Apart from skateboarding, Artem Bubeltsev is also a parkour artist, frequently training on the roof over Kharkiv. Artem survived the early invasion with his grandma in Saltivka, the urban area most impactedby the shellings. They spent a month sheltering on and off in a crowded subway station. His only grace was skateboarding: “one kick flip and I felt alive again”. His dream is to gather enough money to leave Ukraine with his grandma and work on his career somewhere safe. When he turns 25, he will be enlisted in the army, but he can’t imagine himself hurting any living being.
MUR music group performing a musical “[You]Romantica”, based on the texts of the Executed Renaissance, a generation of Ukrainian poets, writers and artists from the 1920s and early 1930s, persecuted and purged by Stalinist regime. MUR is a recent art phenomenon in Ukraine. Most Ukrainian youth found out about the Executed Renaissance because of MUR’s music and social media. The group was proud to perform in the city of originof the storiesthat inspired their musical.
House party of staff and friends of the Switch Bar. Kharkiv was often called a city of kitchen parties, with many people moving their get-togethers from public places into private accommodations after the nightfall. Since the beginning of full scale invasion, the saying became even more meaningful because of the curfew. Partying after 11 pm is tantamount to staying overnight, with no working taxis, planned blackout and police patrols.
A couple near “Pokh” bar, one of the few bars in Kharkiv that work right until the curfew at 11 pm.
NAFTA theater performing the “Rainbow on Saltivka” play in “Some People” concert venue, newly opened in spite of official gathering ban. The NAFTA theater came into national prominence after the full scale invasion, their play being the surrealist tragicomedy about life, war and the largest residential area of Ukraine – Saltivka. This neighborhood, home for some400 000 Kharkhivians, suffered greatly during the full-scale Russian invasion. "Rainbow on Saltivka" encourages to rethink stereotypes and to consider the values of the district, which is seen by many as dangerous and destroyed.
Audience leaving the NAFTA theater performance. For the main actor and founder of the theater Artem Vusyk, the play is “a reason to remember childhood.” He lived in the Saltivka for 17 years. Since his childhood, he associated Saltivka with rainbows, often seenin the area. Artem wants his audience to consider the district differently than as a gray desert of derelict apartment blocks.
Oleksandr Kobzev, 31, a tattoo artist, in his home studio, making last civilian tattoo before joining the special unit of Armed Forces of Ukraine. He plans to bring his equipment to continue making tattoos in the army,his art to follow and support him during the service. A talented tactical medicine instructor with an experience with medevac teams, he’s inspired to take an even more responsible position as a senior medicfor an army brigade.
Kharkiv youth holding a concert on the main street of the city, minutes before the 11 pm curfew. Such events are a very frequent occurrence near the “Drunken Cherry” bar, which closes at 10 pm, with guests staying late outside. Partygoers often sing popular old songs in Russian language, but always end by shouting “Glory to Ukraine” and “Glory to the heroes”. Such dichotomy is natural for Kharkiv, where both songsin Russian and nationalistic cries sound equally sincere.
Oleksandr Kud (31), musician, poet and founder of LitSlam poetry group in Kharkiv. A drone operator in Ukrainian Armed Forces, he’s being applauded by the audience during an event dedicated to his writings. Right before the applause is finished, he leaves the concert room, feeling overwhelmed by the distance between his artist and soldier personae. Devastated by the grim reality of the front line, Oleksandr desperately attempts to keep his identity as a man of art in the army. The guitar and pen are a key to keep his mental balance. His poetry is filled with war metaphors now, but he’s still able to surprise himself, by occasionally writing pieces about love and nature.

Art in the Time of War

Kharkiv lies just 25 kilometers from the front, but its cultural life adapted to the harsh reality of war, and even found new ways to flourish.

In the past two and a half years, the city has been going through the hard process of conditioning to the demands, sacrifices and risks of wartime. It was under siege, with long periods of regular blackouts and heartbreaking human losses among the scarred cityscape. Today it keeps on living under constant threat, with a big part of its population evacuated without no return in sight.

But compared to many other big cities close to the frontline – Sumy, Chernihiv, Zaporizhzhia or Dnipro – Kharkiv is successful in preserving and reconstituting its status of the vibrant hub of art and culture, with a shared aim of supporting the mental resolve of the citizens and soldiers – all despite the fact that Russian missiles and drones can reach its borders in minutes.

Officially, the government-issued ban on big public events is in place; every cultural building can be a prime target for a Russian terror attack. So both the high and the popular art and culture went on underground, with venues organized for secretive performances, invitations spread secretly by word of mouth among the trusted.

Some artists left in Kharkiv can not imagine the life outside of it, occasionally despite having a family abroad and an option to work in the West. But their creative hearts are tied to the city they live in. The members of Kharkiv’s art community are united by the circumstances they found themselves in, and their resolve is to continue on, together serving the community by creating a cultural refuge for the citizens, raising the money to support their fellows in the military, and building a worthy wartime legacy to come back to some day.

Guests hang outside the Switch Bar just before the curfew. After the closure of competing venues, Switch Bar remains the only place in Kharkiv hosting LGBT-themed shows and performances for the community.

Artem Bubeltsev (22) a skater, performing tricks over an anti-tank defense left in Kharkiv’s city center.

Oksana Dmitrieva (47), main director of Kharkiv puppet theater, among the puppets displayed in the theater's museum exhibition.

“Keeping balance”, a street art piece by Hamlet Zinkivskyi.

After the outbreak of full scale war, due to the relative safety of its underground auditorium and backstage, the Kharkiv Opera and Ballet Theatre still has official permission from the city government to host performances. In today’s Kharkiv, it’s a rarity.

Kharkiv opera artists await their turn to perform on the underground theater stage.

A couple near “Pokh” bar, one of the few bars in Kharkiv that work right until the curfew at 11 pm.

Art in the Time of War