Across town from Maidan Square, in a bustling bar with live music, Lina Romanukha scrolls through her Instagram profile. It’s filled with collages cut from decade-old magazines and sketches drawn over the past three years. Both, she says, help her cope with the experience of war.
When Russian troops advanced on Kyiv in February 2022, she fled to her parents’ house in western Ukraine. Within weeks she returned to the capital, convinced she could be more useful here.
Now 41, the curator and artist describes nights under drone attacks as “Russian roulette.” At first she went to shelters; now she doesn’t bother. “You can’t live like that forever. If it comes to my building, it comes,” she says.
Her answer to that fatalism: culture. Romanukha curated an exhibition that digitizes Ukraine’s monuments — not only those in Kyiv or Lviv, but also in Crimea, Donbas and other territories now under Russian control.
In the halls of Kyiv’s Pechersk Lavra — the centuries-old monastery that has itself survived wars and sieges — visitors use virtual reality to step into reconstructions of the ancient Greek city of Chersonesus in Sevastopol, wander through the Khan Palace in Bakhchysarai, or stand before the Mariupol drama theater where hundreds were killed in 2022. Each reconstruction is paired with music by Ukrainian composers: It’s Romanukha’s way of insisting culture survives even if the stone and marble do not.
But for Romanukha, the project is not just about the past. It’s a way of telling Europeans that Ukraine’s heritage is also theirs, that their future belongs together. The very act of placing occupied sites on the map reads like a form of defiance. Russia may hold the land, but the memory — and the claim to Europe — remains Ukrainian. “These monuments are part of European civilization,” Lina says. “If they are erased, Europe loses them too.”
For all the uncertainty about her country’s future, she calls herself a “blind optimist.” She dreams of a Ukraine restored to its 1991 borders, rebuilt with EU and international help.
“It’s a dream,” she admits, but one she refuses to let go of.