Why is the Mother Berehynia Statue Green? Because Kyiv is a Green City
Kyiv has noticeably changed for the better, and a host of new spots favored by locals have appeared: St. Michael Square with its cathedral, the renovated St. Sophia Square with its large pedestrian area; the beautiful statues of Panikovsky, Pronia Prokopivna, and Holokhvastov, along with the actor Yakovchenko, with adjoining small homey public gardens.
The renovation continues to pick up steam. Two large reconstruction projects were carried out and 11 (!) memorial signs installed last year.
After the hustle and bustle of the Independence Day festivities, one feels like taking a closer look at what is left; after all, we will live with all this.
First, I learned about the sculptors and architects, the opening dates, and then decided I could do without this information. The man in the street is seldom interested in the authors, so I just interviewed residents, asking their opinion about the innovations.
I was born in Kyiv, so I have my own very unprofessional and biased opinion (I have a weak spot for irony). Why should I pass judgment on highly sophisticated architectural compositions without knowing anything about the specifics of urban planning (like other’s figuring in this feature)? Let me try to explain using the following example.
We look at a pair of shoes or a suit and pass judgment without knowing anything about cutting, fitting, and sewing; all we know is that we are going to wear them if we like them. With architecture it is more complicated. You can dump a pair of shoes if they give you any trouble, but an ugly building is there to stay; there is no way to get rid of the eyesore.
So I asked people in the street without sharing my views. Maybe a variety of opinions can produce a degree of objectivity.
The first point on my itinerary was the Independence Memorial, of course.
It was noon, I had seen the statue commemorating the tenth anniversary of independence before, but I took a closer look anyway.
What a gigantic structure! A column reaching for the sky, topped with a huge green thing. Someone had explained that bronze turns green when exposed to the elements, so the architects had added something to the material of the statue to forestall the unpleasant transformation (actually, this is called patina and not usually considered unpleasant — Ed.). Obviously they were acting on the principle that it would get no worse than it already was. Mother Berehynia (Mother Christine according to another version) is hardly discernible atop the golden-topped column. The overall impression is of something very big, like King Kong atop a skyscraper.
In contrast, the hotel in the background looks dwarfish. In fact, the city’s chief architect noted that the hotel “now looks like a khrushchiovka (Khrushchev-era apartment block, a five-story building with several entrances but without elevators and garbage chutes).” As if on purpose, that very day the Moscow Hotel was renamed Ukraine Hotel. The city’s chief architect promised to make it taller. But what about the other buildings on the Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square)? They lost much of their previous grandeur. Will they also be made taller?
I asked people.
An apparently cultured young man wearing a trench coat: “Personally, I don’t find anything sensual about the woman topping the column. Another example of pseudo-folk stylization. Reminiscent of the Soviet Advanced Achievements Exhibition aesthetics. There’s something superhuman about it...”
A stately lady approaching middle age: “That Berehynia inspires no emotion in me whatsoever; the column is passable, but the statue certainly deserves to be dismantled... The place looks considerably more attractive in the evening, there are so many blinking colorful lights.”
From a group of students: “We liked the old appearance better. This auntie just doesn’t make it.”
A gray-haired company manager: “I can’t see the statue at all, especially when I approach the memorial. It’s so big, the impression is that it’s just not there. And you can’t see it from beneath. The square looked normal before, but now I’m struck dumb.”
A married couple: “You see, I can’t take a good picture of my wife using the memorial as a backdrop; I want the picture to show both my wife and the Motherland statue or whatever they call it. I keep stepping back, yet both just don’t fit in the frame. And if I cross the street my wife will look too small.”
A young man with a Buster Brown haircut: “The size of the column doesn’t fit the actual scope of our independence. I think it should be three times smaller. That would be more in keeping with reality.”
A 14-year-old girl with braids and freckles: “I like it, it’s so big. You can roller-skate round it. It’s as big as the Motherland statue by the Dnipro.”
Surprised, I asked if she liked the other one by the river. “I sure do, there’s lots of room to roller-skate.”
A pensive young man in a leather jacket: “What really surprises me is the color. Why green? If not gold, they could make it gray steel. But come to think of it, Kyiv is a green city.” We both laughed at this. “So maybe that was the idea.”
A mature man wearing narrow fashionable glasses: “I like it all, as a former metallurgist, I can tell you that everything is planned right.” He pointed at the column and then at what people are calling the greenhouses across the street.
This author is also a former metallurgist but he thinks not.
My next question was about Cossack Mamai astride his horse in front of the Conservatory.
A pretty brunette (and an art critic to boot): “Very much stylized and in a rough way. Its place is more in a playground.” I asked if she meant it to scare off the kids. “No, the kids aren’t likely to get scared. We grownups are.”
A myopic bespectacled lady: “Oh, let me take a closer look. Yes, I see. Well, the Cossack doesn’t look too attractive, but I like the horse.”
Incidentally, two Kyiv Polytechnic students were arrested on Saturday October 27 after tearing off the Cossack’s 15 kilogram canteen. Next someone will try to steal the horse, I fear.
The ex-metallurgist materialized again, confidence incarnate: “Yes, everything’s all right here. There’s perspective and everything’s calculated right at the top, where to place the Cossack and the column.”
“I think that the Cossack is a haphazard work,” said a middle-aged man wearing a beret. “And so is the column. Everybody’s always in a hurry to get somewhere. And what for?”
I left the two men to argue it out among themselves and walked up Instytutska Street to visit the monument to Anatoly Solovyanenko (recently unveiled).
Again I marveled at what I saw. And there was a fresh bouquet in the singer’s clasped hands.
Two charming ladies were eager to discuss the statue. “You know what? One feels warm standing next to it. He’s so alive! So comforting! Honestly! ... Especially after that column in the square down below...”
My next stop was at the remodeled railroad station. I had heard that the elevators were working, so I wanted to take a look.
The granite floor shone and the elevator was like a giant beetle quickly and noiselessly crawling up and down its transparent blue tube. I felt like a character in a Steven Spielberg film.
On the wall were public information computers. A man working one of them couldn’t get the timetable, and the screen repeatedly showed the terminal’s color layout. Dazzling!
I stepped into the silvery elevator and reverently pressed a button. Now I was an astronaut in Star City. I pressed the first floor button and was instantly terrified; the car was rushing down a bottomless abyss.
Well, not exactly an abyss but a super modern public restroom. There were some other facilities below. It was then I realized I had pressed -1 instead of 1. What a dolt!
In my thoughts I was in the 23rd century where I stumble on a little old peasant woman sleeping on the highly polished floor, surrounded by dozens of bags and packages. What uncivilized folk! There were empty aluminum armchairs just a couple of steps away.
Half the people milling at the rail terminal are Kyivans boarding no trains, simply taking in the miraculous fruits of high technology. I, too, was ready to burst with national pride.
An obese man was in a super modern pay phone booth, sharing impressions, and the word he repeatedly used was “Class!”
When he finished I asked if he could say something for the press. The man thought and said, “Super!”
I walked out of the terminal to look at it from outside. The clear blue glass panes were bewitching. And the new silver-red chapel across the square added nicely to the ensemble.
A girl and young men nearby were also admiring the view and obviously enjoying what they saw. Tetiana and Ihor, both with double majors in finance and law. “We’re speechless with admiration. The railroad station is the city’s calling card, and it’s so nice and clean. The place used to be disgusting. Now we’re glad every time we come. Honest.”
I took the metro, got off in Obolon, and headed for the newly erected Monument to the Friendship between Kyiv and Santiago (Chile), a short walk from at the intersection of Malynovsky and Heroes of Stalingrad Streets.
Three nickel-plated columns support a crowned eagle and a roe playfully poking at the stately bird with its hoof. I liked the zoological composition. The whole thing looked graceful, albeit enigmatic.
A woman with dimples and a baby: “The monument is good, but at first I couldn’t figure out the animals on top, then I heard on television that the roe symbolizes Ukraine and the eagle Chile. Both look attractive, but they are too high. On second thought, it is good. Otherwise someone might try to steal them” (remember Cossack Mamai’s canteen).
A girl sporting scarlet pants: “It’s just great! The bird and the elk were erected in honor of our street in Santiago and Santiago’s in Kyiv, I mean Obolonska.” Seeing the expression on my face: “Oh, sorry, I got mixed up. I mean the other way around. Well, I have to run. The main thing is that the place looks beautiful.”
The last point on my itinerary, the Monument to St. Michael, Kyiv’s patron saint (the second one; the first one is in Independence Square) near the Minsk subway station. The second patron saint was obviously installed there to take special care of the residents of Obolon.
He looks like the Khreshchatyk one, except he is without the shield and with his left hand he seems be greeting or maybe blessing passersby.
I asked a pretty blonde with a lot of makeup if she liked the new monument. “Well, somehow I’ve never noticed it.” I said she should. She walked round the statue and stared at the face. “Well, it’s a handsome face. Masculine. The shoulders ought to be a little broader, but the face is brave. I like him as a man.” I asked if what she said meant she would date a man like that. “I sure would, the more so it’s not a problem. He’s always there.”
Serhiy, an ex-sailor with round cheeks: “Michael isn’t bad in principle. I’ve visited 35 countries in Europe and Africa. There are countries without any places of interest. In others they build structures that won’t last more than a decade. In still other countries everything is built to last for ages. This patron saint is not meant to stand for ages. The statue lacks substance, but it spruces the place up.”
I thought the ex-sailor had just summed up my own feelings about a lot of contemporary architects; they don’t build for ages, but they do spruce things up.
To make myself feel better, I returned to Independence Square that evening to take a look at Mother Berehynia, as recommended by that near middle-aged lady.
Now the square was a space test launch site. The column was a rocket, but the space exploration dreams I had experienced at the rail terminal were gone.
The green statue on top reminded me of an alien. Colorful lamps playfully winked, spreading in all directions from the column, the colors changing in succession: red, yellow, and green, like a traffic light. Suddenly I wished the column were actually a rocket, with countdown nearing its end, followed by the roar of the engine, the rocket grandly lifting on a column of blazing smoke, then speeding up and vanishing among the stars... This was, of course, just wishful thinking.
