04 Oct I Had Hope to Keep Me Company
PART I
“I was held captive by Russian soldiers for five days in a school building in a neighbouring village. There were five of us prisoners, one of the others was my friend. The Russians would put a pistol to my head, then shoot past it [mock executions]. I thought I’d die there, I guess the one thing that kept me alive was the hope of seeing my son again.”
I heard this from Slava, a 30-year-old man from Ivankiv, a town occupied by the Russians early in the invasion (and liberated on the 1st of April). Slava is still in Ukraine; I have had several WhatsApp conversations with him lately and he has told me about his traumatic experiences. Before the war, he worked in a tech repair shop as a phone technician. When the Russians entered the town, his wife and son were in a village approximately 30 kilometres away. A few days into the occupation, Slava got on a bike and set off to see his family, accompanied by a friend who also wanted to see his relatives. On the way there, they were stopped at a roadblock by Russian soldiers, who detained them and accused them of being spies “out for reconnaissance”. They were taken to an abandoned school building and kept there during the following days.
PART II
In a previous post, I was telling you about Slava, a 30-year old man in Ivankiv (Ukraine) who was held captive by Russian soldiers in an abandoned school in the neighbouring village (with other civilians in the area). He was released after a few days, and a week later the Ukrainian army recaptured Ivankiv. Slava told me that, though still traumatised, his first instinct was to photograph the aftermath. This, of course, happened after the Russians had withdrawn.
‘It’s not like I’m some huge aficionado or know much about art, but I was shocked that the Russians bombed our museum,’ Slava told me. ‘What was even sadder was that the bombing destroyed many artworks by Maria Primachenko, an artist we are very proud of here in Ivankiv.’
Maria Primacenko (1909-1997) is a fascinating figure in Ukrainian art. Born to a peasant family, she made a name for herself as a self-taught artist and went through several stages in her creative development: first naïve art (rich in folklore motifs and animal allegories), followed – after a two-decade break – by a fantasy phase with psychedelic touches, inspired by her dreams (in which, however, folklore remains a constant theme). There would be much to say about Primachenko, including the fact that artists like Picasso and Chagall declared themselves impressed with her style. In the current context, her art is the very opposite of war: luminous, colourful, optimistic. It wasn’t by chance that her works have become symbols of peace in the last months.
I keep imagining Slava, still stunned by his experience as a prisoner, making his way among the ruins in Ivankiv and the burnt walls of the museum, holding his phone, trying to document all he could. According to several international publications, 25 of Maria Primachenko’s works have been destroyed. Ten others have been saved by a local, who managed to get them out in time.
Testimony collected by Ionuț Sociu for the Musem of Abandonment, as a part of the Abandonment Baggage campaign. This project is financed by CARE through the Sera Foundation, Care France, and FONPC.
No Comments