Two art historians, Halyna Hleba, who specializes in contemporary visual art, and Veronika Skliarova, an expert in performative practices and theater, explore these trends and processes, engaging other experts in a broader conversation. They identify the dual themes of self-preservation and self-discovery as central to Ukrainian culture, where both creative growth and the archiving of cultural heritage are at play. Explore further in the dialogue.
On Trends of the Decade
Halyna Hleba: Reflecting on cultural trends or the resistance to cultural policies of the 1960s, 1980s, or even the early 2000s is somewhat easier because time has a way of tempering emotions and providing clarity. It’s this passage of time that allows us to discern the people, processes, and phenomena that defined those eras, and even those who anticipated them through their ideas and actions.
However, the 21st century has accelerated and hybridized life and culture in unprecedented ways. The past is tightly woven with the latest technologies, and methods of ideological and colonial influence have fused with new tools for disseminating such influence. In fact, that is exactly what we have been dealing with in the past decade—a bitter and bloody struggle to overcome the remnants of Sovietism in ourselves, coupled with chaotic efforts to shield future generations from the latest manifestations of this colonial virus.
Veronika Skliarova: The cultural leap in the last ten years can indeed be considered quantum, particularly in the theater sector. Between 2014 and 2015, we witnessed the emergence of numerous significant independent initiatives. These include the PostPlay Theatre in Kyiv, which settled on Nyzhnyoyurkivska Street, the Displaced Person Theatre (Театр переселенця), the Beautiful Flowers Theatre («Прекрасні Квіти») in Kharkiv, Zaporizhzhia New Drama («Запорізька нова драма»), First Stage: Drama UA (Перше сцена: «Drama UA») in Lviv, and the Theatre of Contemporary Dialogue («Театр сучасного діалогу») in Poltava. These organizations have become hubs of experimentation, exploring documentary and post-documentary theater, witness theater, and other contemporary performative practices.
I’d like to highlight the International Summer School for Theatre Curators and the educational project Desant (“Десант”), both organized by Joanna Wichowska in collaboration with the EEPAP platform. These pivotal events have profoundly influenced a generation of Ukrainian artists, many of whom now lead NGOs, festivals, and theatres. For the first time, we employed non-violent, horizontal methods to explore our identities through stage practices.
Art is both a conscious and subconscious process, often reflecting the challenges of the era in which it is created. Theatre, in particular, can directly convey reality, utilizing its unique tools to explore deep meanings and societal issues. When we examine the Ukrainian artistic sector, we can assess whether we’ve evolved into a ‘post-communist’ community, whether we’ve moved beyond the weight of totalitarian trauma, despondency, nepotism, and the fragmentation that once defined our sector.
How do you perceive these developments in your field?
H.H.: Attempting to summarize the past decade in visual art, I find that my memories and impressions are now overshadowed by the war, even though it didn’t seem that way at the time. It’s painful to realize that this framing isn’t by the 2014 conflict (probably because I was not socially conscious and ready to comprehend it at that time), as one might expect, but by the full-scale invasion that later reshaped how we view the past through the lens of subsequent events. This tragic cultural tendency to perceive our present, past, and future as inseparable from the war has become increasingly apparent. It reflects not just the continuity of this war, but of many wars and tragedies that have shaped us.
The drama of this invisibility of war for much of society between 2014 and 2022 is strikingly evident in art. From the vantage point of 2024, we can now clearly observe the dynamics of how war has been addressed in art over the past decade. Since 2014, the war has been depicted primarily by artists who either came from the occupied territories or who sensed the ticking of this slow motioned time bomb acutely. Artists like Liya Dostlieva and Andriy Dostliev, Kateryna Aliynyk, Anna Shcherbyna, Nikita Kadan, Yaroslav Futymskyi, Mykola Ridnyi, Open Group (Відкрита група), Alevtyna Kakhidze, Maria Kulykovska, and many others have been vocal in this regard. Among them Serhiy Zakharov, who was captured by Russian militants in 2014, tortured for his artistic practice in Donetsk, and later depicted his experience in the graphic novel The Hole. It is disheartening to acknowledge that the issues these artists raised during the first eight years of the war were only fully recognized by most Ukrainians in 2022. Before then, those who methodically addressed themes of loss, explosions, shattered windows, violence, rape, and the physical extermination of Ukrainians were often isolated and seemed marginal to broader societal concerns.
In 2022, as the war dominated global consciousness, there was an explosion of war-related imagery. Yet, some of the artists I mentioned earlier lowered their voices. For many cultural figures, the priority shifted to action, they volunteered, joined the military, or were helping those in need.
Many works that have emerged since February 24, 2022, capture states of being rather than reflect on them. However, this surge in visuality can no longer be ignored. Both society and artists have gained a tragic understanding of war, fear, and frustration. Today, viewers and artists share a common semiotic system, an unspoken language of signs and experiences shaped by war, that deepens their mutual understanding.
V.S.: I would say that we’ve “came back into present”, in a sense, from understanding the events of World War II to grappling with the realities post-February 24. New old calendars, dictionaries, and new old brutalities, new old writings on the walls left by German, Soviet, and now Russian soldiers. Across the country, school new old calendars froze on the date of February 24. This “historical reconstruction” unfolds against the backdrop of a fractured landscape: the disintegration of independent institutions and the passivity of state structures incapable of articulating a new cultural policy.
In times of socio-political crises, the role of art often boils down to four key functions: cultural diplomacy; preservation of cultural heritage, both physically (funds, archives) and theoretically (research and understanding of traditions); positive propaganda and support for the psycho-emotional health of society; and the creation of new community values, alongside the reevaluation of old rituals and visions.
One significant cultural milestone over the past decade was the founding of the Playwrights’ Theatre (Театр драматургів) in Kyiv in 2022 by Natalka Vorozhbyt, Maksym Kurochkin, Anastasia Kosodiy, Lena Liagushonkova, Andriy Bondarenko, and their colleagues. This theatre, with its focus on contemporary drama, strives to capture and document our current reality, offering a safe space for shared trauma.
The declaration of Independence in 1991 marked the beginning of Ukrainian culture’s struggle to forge its own path. We’ve navigated a complex trajectory from the Soviet colonial aesthetics of emulating the “empire’s” finest achievements, through globalist tendencies that emphasized vibrant ethnicity and a fascination with folklore, to the anti-colonial dismantling of past narratives. Our journey has been uneven, and sometimes “two steps back progress” represents a hard-earned achievement. But it’s crucial that we document and reflect on this progress.
H.H.: Those who document are important because we’ve inherited significant cultural gaps, events erased from public memory, stories forgotten. Modern archival initiatives play a critical role in helping us understand ourselves and dispel the myth of our cultural inferiority. So are numerous enthusiasts and teams are working across different themes and time periods to fill these gaps.
We began archiving art after February 24, creating the Martial Law Art Archive (“Архів мистецтва воєнного стану”) to safeguard threatened culture, we saw this artistic outburst as an artistic respond of society to war, as a record of time and experience. Concurrently, our colleagues at Mystetskyi Arsenal launched the Ukraine on Fire (“Україна в огні”) project, showcasing art about the war since 2014 and highlighting the voices of individual artists. More importantly, this past decade has witnessed a remarkable rise in regional initiatives that collect and structure information about local cultural phenomena, collaboratively writing the history of Ukrainian art in all its regional diversity. These include the Assortment Room (Асортиментна кімната) in Ivano-Frankivsk, the Jump Gallery team in Poltava, the Kherson Museum of Contemporary Art, the Dnipro Centre for Contemporary Culture («Музей сучасного мистецтва Херсон»), the Odesa National Art Museum, and the Yermilov Centre in Kharkiv, among others. These proactive advocates of cultural decentralization were leading this charge long before it became a political mainstream.
Yet, there remains a need for those who can analyze and interpret this preserved and archived material, making it accessible to a broader audience. There is a growing demand in our cultural field for public intellectuals who can bridge the gap between professional discourse and everyday language. The challenge lies not only in stepping out of their professional bubbles but also in translating complex ideas, critiques, and discussions into colloquial terms. We can no longer afford to confine intelligent thoughts and complex discussions to professional circles. Society needs to engage with these challenging topics, or else we risk perpetuating the notion that our culture is somehow inferior.
V.S.: To rethink old values of society and create new ones, we need a new language and a new focus as well. Identity is dynamic, and our language, that changes all the time, is a part of it. I believe, many artists hesitate to offer this new language due to the lingering inertia of socialist realist art and the slow process of shedding colonial perspectives and the status quo. The educational component is also a significant issue. Ukrainian art institutions often employ too few practitioners and lack up-to-date training facilities, leaving students without the opportunity to receive a quality education.
But I don’t want to generalize about the entire artistic sphere, so I thought it was important to gather insights from my colleagues. I invited Yelyzaveta Smith, a director, producer, co-founder of the Tabor (Табор) film company, and a member of the Ukrainian and European film academies, to share her observations on trends in the film industry over the past decade:
The Revolution of Dignity shaped a new generation of filmmakers who picked up cameras during the protests and continued making documentaries when the Russian-Ukrainian war broke out in 2014.
The films, individuals, and film associations that emerged during that time now represent Ukraine at international festivals and professional platforms, bringing Ukrainian narratives, stories, and meanings to audiences worldwide. After the revolution, Ukrainian cinema experienced a 5-6 year period of flourishing, supported by the state. International co-productions emerged, and the demand for national cinema among Ukrainian audiences grew significantly.
Unfortunately, in recent years, the Ukrainian film industry has faced a real crisis due to value differences between state administrators in the field of cinema and much of the industry. The strategies developed by the State Film Agency, along with non-transparent project selection and funding procedures, have led to significant resistance from authors, producers, and independent filmmakers. They are demanding changes in the leadership of the State Film Agency, the development of transparent procedures, and a film strategy that truly supports and promotes Ukrainian cinema.
A turning point in this resistance was the struggle to preserve the Oleksandr Dovzhenko National Centre, Ukraine’s largest film archive, which houses films by both Ukrainian film classics and contemporary authors. Today, the crisis has reached its peak. Many Ukrainian filmmakers whose works have represented the country at international festivals now refuse to participate in the non-transparent competitions organized by the Ukrainian State Film Agency.
On top of this, the full-scale war has severely reduced the production of feature films, prompting many filmmakers to focus on documentaries that capture the events we are experiencing as a society.
On Politics
H.H.: It’s hard to overlook how in the story of cultural achievements over the past decade we often confront state policies against self-organized, independent cultural initiatives. Ideally, especially during wartime, these efforts should have functioned as a well-coordinated mechanism of joint work, but that hasn’t been the case.
V.S.: A red line in the art sector over the past ten years has been the struggle to have a voice independent of state institutions. Unfortunately, even for recognized artists, representing the country on behalf of the state remains challenging. Many avoid interacting with state institutions due to bureaucratic constraints and past compromises. The creative surge of 2014-2016, which introduced new methods of reflection and theatrical experimentation, influenced institutional and political changes, such as the establishment of the Ukrainian Cultural Foundation (UCF), the Ukrainian Institute, and the introduction of competitive processes for appointing cultural institution leaders. These developments sparked hope for a comprehensive reform of the arts sector, significantly altering its landscape. However, these competitions have often remained non-transparent and corrupt, and despite a few successful cases, the broader trend remains disappointing. Nepotism continues to plague state structures, causing deep concern within the Ukrainian art community.
For Ukraine’s state cultural institutions, a true “democratic turnpoint” has yet to occur. In her final weeks in office, Deputy Minister of Culture Halyna Hryhorenko was actively involved in de-Sovietization, initiating public discussions to amend the Law on Competitions to ensure it serves the entire sector and facilitates renewal. Unfortunately, these changes did not materialize, largely due to the current government’s inability to grasp what a competitive artistic product entails and how the ecosystem of independent professional art and state institutions should function.
G.G.: Despite these challenges, that our time poured on us, we’ve seen a significant surge of interest in Ukrainian culture abroad twice in the last decade: first in 2014 and again in 2022.
The demand for exhibitions and collaborations between global cultural institutions and Ukrainians soared in 2022. In the two years since the full-scale war began, there have been nearly as many exhibitions of Ukrainian art worldwide as in the previous eight years. Importantly, many of these were partnership projects where European or American institutions collaborated with Ukrainians to develop the projects, rather than simply treating us as a “quota” to cover the Ukrainian topic. This kind of cooperation legitimizes the Ukrainian voice.
The fluctuating interest in Ukrainian culture underscores that no art is outside of politics. As the war drags on, global interest in Ukraine has begun to wane, influenced by Russia’s information campaigns against Ukraine. Our firm cultural stance of “nothing about Ukraine without Ukrainians” and our boycott of Russian culture is uncomfortable for many Europeans, who, especially in matters of culture and freedom of consumption, retain a degree of Russophilia, especially in matters of culture and freedom of its consumption.
However, my observations on visual arts do not fully encompass the broader cultural landscape. To gain a more comprehensive view, I asked my colleagues for their perspectives on this decade. To comment on contemporary dance, we invited Oleksandr Manshylin, executive director of the NGO Platform for Contemporary Dance, choreographer, researcher, teacher, and cultural manager.
The space of contemporary dance is divided into two main components: Ukrainian artists who primarily work abroad, and those who never left or returned to Ukraine. The experience gained earlier has enabled us to effectively integrate into Western communities. Simultaneously, it has become clear that contemporary dance is truly needed in Ukraine: as an art form, as a social space for children and adults, and as a tool for dance and movement therapy.
Firstly, contemporary dance (as well as contemporary ballet) arrived late in Ukraine, only in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Secondly, it came in the form of Western models and ready-made forms, introduced by young, ambitious artists who naturally saw this new dance as a way to declare their otherness. That’s why the first steps were mostly represented as “I am the bearer of unique knowledge, one of a kind”. The existing post-Soviet infrastructure, theatres, funding systems, and educational institutions, could not support contemporary dance, so enthusiasts began building their own foundations with their own resources. Of the pioneering generation, only a few remained in the profession by the mid-2010s.
In 2014, Ukrainian dancers truly felt part of the international community for the first time. This shift meant that they could now organize educational or artistic residencies for foreign choreographers in Ukraine, host tours of foreign dance companies, and curate festival programs, all funded by the artists’ home countries. While this didn’t change the day-to-day struggles of Ukrainian choreographers, who still had to find ways to fund their own performances, it did transform the broader context in which they worked.
By 2018, the Ukrainian Cultural Foundation (UCF) began its first season, supporting three successful contemporary dance projects. In the following year, this number grew to seven. Even during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, dancers adapted by embracing augmented reality (AR), organizing hybrid festivals, and hosting project management seminars. By 2021, they had their own competitive grant space through a dedicated UCF Dance program.
V.S.: For centuries, Ukraine has been deprived of the continuity of tradition and the intergenerational exchange of artistic experiences, largely due to imperial colonial strategies aimed at suppressing Ukrainian narratives. This long-standing lack of acknowledgement (recognition) by other nations led us to forget what it means to have our own voice and cultural identity in Ukraine. Reclaiming this voice requires a foundation, a clear understanding of our value and place in the world. This is where the issues of reputation, professional analysis, and dedicated publications become crucial.
For instance, Ukraine currently lacks a media outlet focused on theatre. The Ukrainian Theatre magazine was published until 2018, but it has since disappeared, with only a brief digital revival until December 2019. Without professional theatre criticism and the insights of individuals who not only follow Ukrainian processes but can also contextualize them globally, it’s difficult to discuss the sector’s integrity.
H.H.: I agree; we clearly lack platforms for public discourse and intellectual engagement. However, what’s even more essential is having an audience for these platforms. Media cannot thrive without readers, and having only a professional audience isn’t enough.
The Public Broadcasting (Суспільниq мовник) has undergone a significant transformation in recent years, emerging as a leader in producing high-quality, introductory, critical, and analytical cultural content. Additionally, media outlets like Livyi Bereg (Лівий Берег), NV (Новое Время), and Ukrayinska Pravda (Українська Правда) have pages for culture. While there’s room to debate their content and information policies, these outlets are insufficient to provide comprehensive coverage and dissemination of cultural information. Small, self-organized media initiatives like Sensor (Сенсор), KUST (КУСТ), LUK (ЛЮК), Dont Take Fake, Arts Looker, and SOUS (СОУС) (the latter two no longer active) sporadically appear and disappear. Consequently, discussions that once took place on Facebook, due to the lack of specialized media, have gradually migrated to podcasts and YouTube content.
It’s also important to note that Ukraine has long lacked translations of iconic texts, but the situation has improved over the last decade. Publishers, including small ones, have begun setting trends in this area.
We sought insights from Hryhoriy Semenchuk, a poet, musician, culture manager, chairman of the Dialogue Art Council, and director of the Lviv Authors’ Reading Month («Місяць авторських читань у Львові») literary festival, regarding the literary process:
The past decade has likely been a defining one for Ukrainian literature, at least in the context of modern Ukrainian history. The tectonic societal shifts after 2014 made contemporary literature essential for Ukrainians.
During this period, new voices emerged in the literary field, while established names gained even greater recognition. Ukrainian books began to fill various genre niches, displacing Russian books that had dominated until 2014.
Furthermore, new literary festivals, publishing houses, and other elements of literary infrastructure have emerged. In response to the events of the past decade, a substantial body of veteran literature has also developed, finding readers both in Ukraine and abroad.
The establishment of new state institutions, such as the Ukrainian Book Institute, the Ukrainian Cultural Foundation, and the Ukrainian Institute, offers hope. With proper funding and governance, Ukraine could maintain a literary infrastructure comparable to that of the European Union in the decades to come.
Besides, Ukraine’s voice is increasingly being heard beyond its borders. The interest that began to grow in 2014 and peaked in 2022 may be gradually declining, but Ukrainian authors continue to make their mark internationally. They are being published more frequently abroad, appearing on lists of literary prize nominees, and winning these awards with noticeable regularity. They also participate in significant literary events worldwide. As a result, it is crucial in the coming years to sustain this momentum and create the conditions for Ukrainian literature to become a self-sufficient and influential force. With the right support, it can compete with the traditional leaders of the literary world and play a pivotal role in decolonization efforts within Ukraine.
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Over the past decade, Ukrainian culture has experienced remarkable transformation: new institutions have emerged, decolonial processes have intensified, and fresh voices have gained prominence both within Ukraine and internationally. These changes have significantly shaped the cultural landscape as it faced February 24, 2022. Today, as we present this material, it’s clear that interpreting Ukrainian culture cannot be done without considering the impact of the ongoing war. This conflict influences how contemporary culture interacts with and reinterprets classic works, shaping the future trajectory of Ukrainian culture. Moving forward, a vibrant cultural sphere cannot be achieved without democratization and the adoption of new cultural policies by the state.
Translation — Marta Gosovska
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[The translation of this publication was compiled with the support of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation within the framework “European Renaissance of Ukraine” project. Its content is the exclusive responsibility of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union and the International Renaissance Foundation]
