The morning of February 24th was probably the same for me as it was for most Kyivites… Around 5 am Nina and I were awakened by a call from her sister. She asked if we had heard explosions, and in half an hour we watched the neighbors nervously loading their suitcases into their cars.
In the beginning, I was doing everything I could to be useful: starting from transporting various people and stuff, up to building barricades, unloading humanitarian aid at the station with other artists, etcetera.
For about two weeks now, my colleagues and I have been evacuating a large private collection of Ukrainian art from Kyiv. At the same time, we continue to collect the necessary items and equipment for the territorial defense of Irpin and our friends, artists and architects, who are currently fighting in the National Guard.
Fortunately, I did not have to leave my home.
For me, time stopped on February 24th. On February 28th, a fragment of the “Russian world” flew into the squat, where we have been working for many years, broke the ceiling in the studio of Serhii Zapadnia, just a meter away from where he was sleeping at the time. Fortunately, Serhii, as we say, was born “in a bulletproof vest.” Then there were firefighters, roof repairs… The studio where I work with two colleagues, just one floor under. Yesterday, for the first time in a month, we managed to find several hours to come over and clean the workshop.
It is too early for me to sum up [how the war has changed me].