Memorial Words
I could be wrong, of course, but I believe that all truly beautiful cities boast modern plush structures, designed by talented, contemporary architects, that also border more historical buildings. In a truly attractive city, one walks the streets and travels in time, leafing through national or foreign history, taking in modern and old surroundings, spotting oaks rooted in past epochs. Historical terrain kept with jealous care has aesthetical meaning and makes one aware of the stability of time, hardships, wars, calamities notwithstanding.
Regrettably, people tend to understand this only after destroying everything they can lay their hands on. Often, words remain the only monuments to the past. Place names, such as Kyivski Hory (Kyiv Hills), Zamkova Hora (Castle Rock, in this case without a castle), and nonexistent rivers such as the Pochaina, Syrets, Lybid, Nyvky remain. Kyiv could have been a city of rivers, bridges, and quays. On can look at Kmytiv Yar as an example, a ravine until recently overgrown with oaks and currently buried under garages, or Frunze Park (or what little is left of it) and so many other places. What is left to remind us of past centuries — ancient temples and mansions, old cityscapes — is hidden behind modern high-rise projects, private homes surrounded by prison-like fences, and mounds of garbage-as evidenced by Olehova Hora, only recently a uniquely scenic hill in the heart of the city.
The fathers of the city, among other things, are concentrating on Honchari, Kozhumiaky; centuries ago it was the craftsmen’s suburbs, later free guild settlements, still later streets in the lower part of Kyiv known as Podil. Word has it that the city council is planning a large modern entertainment center there. Most likely, the scenic, romantic natural boundary (reminding one of a canyon) between Starokyivska and Zamkova hills will vanish forever, along with its narrow winding streets and small houses huddling along the slopes, among them the house-museum of artist, Mykola Svitlytsky. At risk is that countryside serenity, just a short ride from the capital’s busy center. Early every spring, luxurious yellow flowers grow in a cozy sunlit corner at the foot of the hill. In April-May, the place basks in the fragrance of lilac and apple trees.
The craftsmen’s settlements of Honchari and Kozhumiaky existed in Podil during Kyiv Rus’, not far from the antique Zhovty Rynok (Yellow Marketplace). As the Upper Town was laid waste and deserted, the administrative center of the ancient capital was transferred to Podil. A Western diplomat by the name of Erich Ljasota wrote in 1594: “Over where the ruins stand and where a city had once stood, one finds few if any homes today. At present, the city is way below, in a valley on the right bank of the Dnieper, it looks rather scattered, for every building is surrounded by an orchard.”
In the Middle Ages, most Kyiv craftsmen united into guilds. City Hall records dating from 1742 read that the guilds numbered 2,000-3,000 craftsmen who played a major role in the life of the city, particularly in Podil. Thus, potters and tanners formed a special corps of the City Council. On red-letter days (e.g., Christmas and the feast of the Epiphany) they would march solemnly through the city center. There would be cannon and musket salvos, bells would be heard from all of Podil churches, brass bands would play, watched by merry crowds of citizens (Kyivans must have always enjoyed public festivities).
In 1706, under the Hetman’s universal [edict], the suburbs of Honchari and Kozhumiaky were subordinated to the mayor of Kyiv and City Council. Fifty craftsmen were then members of the tanners’ guild, along with numerous assistants and apprentices. Their number had doubled by the end of the 18th century. The craftsmen specialized in pots, bricks, tiles (including decorated ones, some of which have survived the ravages of time), and stoves. They made their ware in special “yards” equipped with tools and kilns. Their merchandise was in demand by all social strata. The city’s poor bought pots and bricks for stoves and chimneys, whereas government clerks, clergy, and the aristocracy bought ornamental tiles for their homes.
Regarding the planned entertainment center, no one says there should be no such centers, but why stick to the American style? What about all those lovingly restored and decorated German villages and towns attracting tourists from across the world with their Christmas and Easter shows and guild celebrations rooted in their early Middle Age histories? Aren’t these towns also known for their craftsmen’s workshops where a tourist can order a souvenir glass ball or use his hands and feet and make himself a cup or a pot on the potter’s wheel? Another rhetorical question: When developing such an historic ravine, why not add those rich apple orchards that had once grown all over Podil and its merchants’ and craftsmen’s homes and monasteries, amazing foreign merchants and travelers?
The city administration has every reason to be proud of is religious restoration projects and promises to keep up the good job (perhaps determined to show a large number of churches per capita). Still, houses of God are not the only historical heritage of Kyiv. Consider, for example, the homes of wealthy residents dating from the 19th century. Or the aristocratic palaces. Or the 16th century castle of Adam Kysil, Orthodox Kyiv palatine of the Rzeczpospolita Polish Kingdom that had once towered over the Dnieper. How about restoring chain-drawn bridges built in case of siege? Adam Kysil’s castle could house a museum of Cossack wars (at this point, one is somehow reminded of Manilov, the hare-brained scheming character in Nikolai Gogol’s Inspector General).
As for skyscrapers and Disneyland-like entertainment projects, there is plenty of room outside historic Kyiv for people with imagination and money.
