Unwinding the paradox of building and rebuilding at the Ukrainian Pavilion

There is a frightening study. It says that a third of Ukraine’s vast territory can no longer be used for safe habitation due to pollution, destroyed industrial facilities, and landmines. Just to put it in perspective, an area equal to half of Germany is now a wasteland; a lot of it is black-coloured soil, the most fertile land in Europe. “Maybe this is our chance to return 30 per cent of our territories to nature,” writes a collective of young Ukrainians—an architect, designer, researcher, and sociologist. After all, in its 2030 Biodiversity Strategy, the European Commission proposes to transform at least 30 per cent of Europe's land and sea into protected areas. “If not for the war this goal would be unattainable,” argue the participants. This and other provocative ideas will be discussed at Ukraine’s two-part pavilion—an open-air grass-covered fortified wall snaking gently in Giardini and intentionally turned into a war-time-like bunker interior in Arsenale.

For the Ukrainian Pavilion’s three co-curators—Oleksii Petrov, Iryna Miroshnykova, and Borys Filonenko—this exhibition is not their first collaboration. They started working together on an exhibition at the 2019 Biennale of Young Artists in Kharkiv. Venice is a familiar territory for this trio. Last year they co-curated their much-publicised exhibition centred on the poetic work of Kharkiv artist Pavlo Makov for the Ukrainian Pavilion at the 59th Venice Art Biennale. Now they are working on yet another art show, which will open later this year at a new art centre in Lviv.

Oleksii Petrov (b. 1981) and Iryna Miroshnykova (b. 1984) were both born and grew up in Kyiv. They were educated at the Kyiv National University of Construction and Architecture. He graduated in 2005 and she in 2007. Petrov founded his studio ФOPMA (both form and uniform in Ukrainian) in 2006 with other partners who have since left, while Miroshnykova joined him in 2009. The pair now lead their progressive Kyiv-based architectural practice as an equal partnership. Borys Filonenko (b. 1991) grew up in Kharkiv, although he was born in Belgorod, Russia, just 80 kilometres north, across the Russian border where his mother is from. He is a 2012 graduate of the Philosophical Faculty of Kharkiv University. Filonenko is an art critic and curator. He is teaching at the Kharkiv School of Architecture, Ukraine’s only private architecture school founded in 2017, which relocated to Lviv following the Russian invasion.

In the following interview with the pavilion’s three curators, we discussed the intentions behind their pavilion’s design—it had to be conceived and executed within just two-month time—topics to be debated there, the most pressing concerns at the time of war, and what kind of future these two architects and critic see for Ukraine. As we spoke, their smartphones kept buzzing and telling them to go to the bomb shelter, messages so many Ukrainians have become too familiar with on a daily basis. 

Vladimir Belogolovsky: Ever since Putin’s Russia started its brutal and unprovoked aggression against Ukraine on February 24, 2022, the country remains to be at the very centre of the attention of the entire world. On the other hand, at least historically, the Ukrainian presence at the Venice Architecture Biennales has been quite ephemeral. There is no permanent national pavilion and the last time Ukraine presented its architectural exhibition was in 2014 at Rem Koolhaas’s exhibition, Fundamentals. This year’s theme of the Biennale is Laboratory of the Future. You named your installation Before the Future, which is presented in two parts, in Giardini and Arsenale. What is the main concept of this double installation?

Borys Filonenko: There is a third part of our installation, a performative component. Starting in early August, both installations—in Arsenale and Giardini—will host five temporary presentations. It is the program of both of the places that we think is the most important. 

Iryna Miroshnykova: In fact, the idea of these programs came before the installations were defined. The installations were designed as a necessity, around the proposed programs.

VB: What was the design process like?

Oleksii Petrov: We started this project in March. So, we had only two months or so to prepare. We were approached by the Ministry of Community, Territories, and Infrastructure, as we were the curators of last year’s exhibition. They expressed concern about not taking part in the Venice Architecture Biennale for quite some time, since 2014.

IM: The main idea was to bring other people to participate in this project, not just three of us. We saw this project as a platform. To be most effective we asked the Biennale organisers to let us use spaces at both sites—Arsenale and Giardini. They agreed.

BF: From the beginning, we focused on working with collectives of 35 independent artists, architects, sociologists, ecologists, politicians, anthropologists, and historians. Ever since the war started, we have seen an incredible wave of self-organising groups of volunteers. For us, it was important to see what was going on in the profession and what practising architects were most preoccupied with during the war. The point was to share our experiences in such extreme circumstances. We wanted to raise the most relevant questions inside the warfare. One of them was about how to focus on creating communities before designing physical buildings. These collectives will produce five installations. These collectives are very independent. They were formed specifically for the Biennale and many of them did not work together in the past. Collaboration was the main focus of our proposal and we wanted to share this experience with our international audience. One thing we bring to the Biennale, which is very different from other participants, is our vision of the future. In other parts of the world, architects may imagine their future by rearranging the past in new ways. For us, it is very different because we are now inside the war and everyone in Ukraine constantly thinks about the time when the war will be over.   

VB: What were some of the ideas behind your two-part pavilion design?

IM: Both locations are designed around the idea of the new perception of safety. In Arsenale, it is a dark windowless space with a low ceiling, which could be quite depressing for a regular visitor but for us, Ukrainians, it represents the kind of space where we are typically forced now to think about the future, where we make our plans, and where we feel safe. Even during this conversation, we need to be in the bomb shelter. And the second installation in Giardini is designed based on the so-called Serpent’s Wall. 

OP: They are an ancient system of earthworks and hills in the Kyiv suburbs. The remains constitute about 1,000 kilometres and they range from about two meters in height, like in Giardini, to up to about nine meters. These structures are partially abandoned and partially destroyed by the agricultural industry. We visited them as a reference for our Giardini installation where we used the same materials to construct our own fortifications made of earth and wood, and covered by grass.

IM: Of course, the context is completely different because, for people in Giardini, it is about repose, having a pleasant meal, or just chilling. Whereas, for us, these structures are all about protection and survival.

BF: This Serpent’s Wall also represents medieval infrastructure, which was made up of a network of connecting regional roads and for us, it is important to show how this idea of gathering and meeting is very much connected to the feeling of safety. It was our response to the chief curator Lesley Lokko's statement about the need for telling stories. Our response is that we can only tell stories when we feel safe if we are fortified, and if we are far from the frontline. In other words, stories cannot be told without some line of defence. It must be protected. Now that we built these structures, we can bring our participants so they can tell their stories.  

VB: The five topics that you proposed for the collectives to be guided by are: reconstruction, commemoration, ecology, education, and the future. Are there any particular examples of how these programs will be presented?

IM: Our structure of communication is quite horizontal. The collectives have a lot of freedom to express their ideas. For example, they even slightly revised our original topics.

BF: They are now called: Deconstructed, which is about rebuilding and reconstructing. Then there is 30 per cent; it refers to the fact that 30 per cent of our land is now contaminated with landmines set up by the Russian army. Another one is called What Cannot be Lost, which is about identifying war crimes, such as the bombing of the Mariupol Theater. The fourth theme is The Beauty of Care; it is about collaborative efforts and stories of how different individuals help each other during such trying times. And, finally, March On, which is about saving heritage and public spaces, and how to develop an active position in preserving architecture and move on into the future. These five presentations will be produced in the form of exhibitions and discussions. 

VB: What are some of the most relevant issues that you think need to be addressed now?

BF: Even though we are still at war, many Western architects already try to “sell” their grand visions for our cities after the war. We see it as a dangerous way to rebuild our country. For example, Norman Foster’s plan for rebuilding Kharkiv looks like a grand colonial vision without deep contextual and historical investigations. The architect already visited the city and presented his scheme to the mayor. This process is not transparent and no local architects were invited to take part in it. We are afraid to find out about all the decisions that have been made with no possibility to make any changes. We see this development as problematic and we insist on public scrutiny.  

VB: Will this concern about such proposals be discussed at the pavilion?

IM: Not directly. We think there are more relevant issues. They will be tied to local architects’ specific stories and projects. How we struggle from day to day and what kind of projects we work on. The proposal by Foster for sure will come up in various discussions and interviews but that’s not going to be the main focus. Although, that’s an important issue since there are other international architects who see Ukraine as a playground for their ideas. I hope we can resist or at least discuss them. 

VB: How do you see the future of Ukraine?

IM: Diverse and democratic. Happy.

BF: We see it as a free country with free people. We are excited about starting to build our future after the war. But it is so hard to imagine the future because we don’t know what happens next. Just a few days ago Nova Kakhovka was a town that could hope for one future. And now, after the complete destruction of the Kakhovka Dam by the Russian army, there is a very different future for that entire region. Our future is unknown. There are so many even bigger catastrophes that could take place at any moment. We have no idea who will live and who will not. For us, questions of safety, ecology, and rebuilding are real and most relevant. Also, we need to realise that in different situations we need to think differently. If in one part of the world taking down walls and building bridges is a solution, for us the solution, at least at this moment, is to build walls and destroy bridges. Architects need to pay attention to each unique situation. If we want to have a common future, we need our decisions to be very specific.

OP: For us, the future coexist with the constant destruction of the past and present. At ФОРМА we had a dozen projects before the full-scale war started. Now we have three, all started before the invasion. We are also working on a new exhibition with Borys on the first show at a new arts centre in Lviv. It will highlight the work of dozens of local artists. It will be important to open this show during the war, at a time when people are still working, making plans, repairing damaged buildings, and building new ones. We are living in paradoxical times of building and rebuilding.