A remedy for stereotypes

Lviv — One can often hear complaints about Ukraine’s cultural image outside its borders. We, the young artists of Lviv, are perhaps best aware of this problem. The youth art foundation Bereh Batkivshchyny (The Coast of Our Motherland), which I am currently heading, masterminds exhibits of Ukrainian artists abroad. And each time we see that even now, Ukraine and Ukrainians still cut a peculiar figure in the eyes of ordinary Europeans, and our art, although a pleasant surprise for them, remains somewhat obscure.

Drawing the up-to-date profile of the Ukrainian culture in European countries, our foundation often encounters such problems as the leveling of Ukrainian and Russian art, and the primitive assessment of our nation. Later, we will adduce some eloquent examples from our recent trips.

HOW UKRAINIAN ART BECAME RUSSIAN AT THE LOUVRE

Paris in spring. The foundation Bereh Batkivshchyny has just arrived to present, at the Saint Volodymyr Ukrainian Greek Ca­tho­lic Church, an art project “Easter Gifts from Lviv,” dedicated to the representatives of the Ukrainian diaspora in France. Both now and back then, our main purpose was to break the stereotype of the diaspora’s perception of Ukraine, and to prove that living in Ukraine is all the rage. However, the aftertaste of aesthetic and artistic pleasure from the positive reaction to our project was spoiled by an event which in my view was a catastrophe: the presentation of a large-scale exhibit of “Russian art” at the Louvre. The central panel of this exhibit sported a photograph of our Saint Sophia of Kyiv, with a note which said “A Russian monument situated on the territory of Ukraine.” Next to it were a number of Ukrainian icons — Our Lady of Volodymyr, Our Lady of Petrov dating back to the 12th century — also represented as specimens of Russian art. We know that the Russian school of icon painting only sprang up in the 17th century, i.e. so even for chronological reasons, these icons cannot be Russian.

Nevertheless, metal dress ornaments from Tovsta Mohyla, Galician kolts [pendants worn as a part of women’s headdress. – Ed.] decorated with ornitomorphous enamel images, and a lot of other artifacts belonging to proper Ukrainian artistic stock were presented at the Louvre exhibit as specimens of “Russian art.” And it was this “Russian art” that was obediently propagated by French journalists in their newspapers and magazines. For an average French person, there is no difference between the words Russia and Rus’.

The Ukrainian diaspora sent a letter to the Louvre administration to express its surprise at the fact that such a respectable and trustworthy institution should perform an elementary verification of the information. The reply was, “It is up to you to protect your culture.” Perhaps, it was a sound observation...

By the way, the Russian newspaper Russkaia Mysl in Paris published a voluminous article headlined “Russia’s Victory,” where one could read, for example, that our intellectuals speak Russian, and only the poor Ukrainians in the country still cling to their Ukrainian dialect. The authors also contested the fact of Yaroslavna’s being a Ukrainian princess. Why not Russian? It won’t do to misappropriate such an important historical figure.

However, there is a ray of sunshine. There are communities which act as advocates of Ukraine. For instance, in the town of Senlis lives the granddaughter of the Ukrainian-Canadian artist Maria Styranka (her father, a priest from Ivano-Frankivsk, together with his wife born near Ternopil, emigrated to Canada in the early 20th century). Today the Ukrainian artist is married to the mayor of Senlis, so the couple promote Ukrainian culture in Europe. Each year, on August 24, the entire town sports blue-and-yellow flags, and at Christmas you can hear Ukrainian carols, koliadky.

Speaking of the exhibit at the Louvre, I would like to remark that, unlike those nincompoops, Bereh Batkivshchyny is planning to hold an exhibit of Ukrainian art at the Parisian museum of medieval art Cluny. From Trypillian ceramics and Scythian gold to baroque icons to traditional garments — all of this will be on display for both Ukrainian and French visitors. This was the idea advocated by Natalia Pasternak, president of 15 ­Ukrai­nian associations active in France.

To popularize Ukraine in Europe, Bereh Batkivshchyny is going to bring new art exhibits to France, both young Ukrainian artists and the representatives of the traditional school. They will be shown at the galleries of Paris, in particular, the Ukrainian Cultural Center at the embassy of Ukraine in Paris.

At Christmas time, following the example of Oleh Skrypka’s French-Ukrainian vechornytsi (soirees), we are going to hold Ukrainian parties at Montmartre and show, via performing arts such as songs and dances, the true face of our country.

DMYTRO TABACHNYK’S UKRAINIAN-SPANISH DICTIONARY OF APHORISMS

Spain became yet another destination for Bereh Batkivshchyny. On invitation from Larysa Ponomarenko, president of the Uk­rainain Association in the town of Murcia, and as part of the festival of Ukrainian culture, we presented “Versions,” the exhibit of paintings by a renowned Lviv artist Oksana Roiuk-Bahrynivska.

The symbolism and ethnogenetic code underlying her works easily opened the hearts and minds of Spanish connoisseurs. I remember a visitor on the opening day exclaiming, “Pinch me! I can’t believe it... Is it possible that you’re from Ukraine? You are a talented nation!” The Spanish are shocked, the Ukrainians are proud.

Ponomarenko and her team bring together the dispersed Ukrainians of Murcia into an integral constellation, incorporating Ukrainian culture into a Spanish context, and yet preserving its soul. The local Ukrainian school, which comprises more than 100 students, is also worth mentioning. Its principal, Myroslava Latiuk, is a talented choreographer and an ardent propagator of Ukrainian performing arts. There is a curious detail: her three-year-old son Daniel always paints his mom wearing a large ring of flowers, ribbons, and red boots, while her husband Juan Miguel is learning Ukrainian and makes substantial investments into our economy.

To tell the truth, there was a cold shower waiting for us in Spain: the image of Ukraine which has formed in the Spanish minds based on our politicians. The question “How could you have yielded your Ukraine?” made blood curdle in our veins.

We also faced other, more expressive things. In one of the cafes a waitress brought us, together with coffee, an egg on a saucer and, hiding behind an umbrella, asked us not to throw it at her. That is to say, don’t do as your parliamentarians in the Verkhovna Rada. The reproach for the Ukrainian parliamentary “tradition” was ostensible.

The media also put in their two cents’ worth. In Spanish newspapers, one can stumble across an article headlined It’s Only Recently That Galicians Learned to Wash Their Hands. These words authored by the Minister of Education and Science Tabachnyk have traveled the globe.

Refuting something “from above” or proving it in heated discussions is a thankless task. You can’t speak to each and every Spaniard. Likewise, you can’t take each Frenchman by the hand and show them where our and “their” art is. Instead, you can prove your truth before the world in a more effective way, via art. I think we are doing it well.