The Beast Came out of the Forest

In her work On Return, Anna Zvyagintseva refers to Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Wild Swans”. At the centre of the story is the heroine who tries to save her royal brothers, princes transformed into wild birds by their evil stepmother. Like to the character, the artist knits a nettle shirt meant to defend her loved one on the front line. Expressed through the careful weaving of the thread, this caring gesture becomes a way to ease the wait while also serving as an opportunity to restore her connection with another, to save a life, using magic to grant the shirt symbolic power. Zvyagintseva began the work in 2023 and has continued to add new pieces, turning the process into a ritual weaving time itself into the fabric. 

In the fairy tale, the heroine did not have the time to complete the shirt for her youngest brother, so one of his hands remained a swan’s wing. In the context of the current war, the artist’s sketches reflect the transformations and losses suffered by the bodies of the soldiers defending the country.

The documentary Esoteric Life of Ukraine or You Just Know It’s White by Oleksandra Nesen and Mykyta Shklyaruk delves into the secret world of Ukrainian witchcraft, magic, and esotericism. The artists communicate with Ukrainian witches who invite them into their homes, share personal stories, talk about their work and rituals, and explain how the war changed their lives and practices. The documentary, filmed in Kyiv in the summer of 2022 against the backdrop of the painful experiences and hopes of the first months of the full-scale invasion, weaves an atmosphere where the war intertwines with the rich traditions of the mystical world.

The film consists of four parts — Interiors, Love, Earth, and Army. Thus, a series of conversations with the women reveals narratives highlighting the nature of Ukrainian sorcery, the role of women in magic practices, the sacredness of the earth, love rituals, support for the military, and the belief permeating every ritual.

For Taras, morning coffee is a special ritual: before adding milk, he pours it into a smaller cup, and only then adds it to the coffee cup. He believes that this keeps the milk fresher for longer. In the video In the Garden of Taras, artist Katya Lesiv documents her friend’s daily habit, where an action repeated day after day becomes an act of self-care. Although there is no scientific or even anecdotal evidence that can confirm this method is effective, it becomes a kind of support — a small habit that maintains the rhythm of everyday life and a sense of stability. In uncertain times, such seemingly insignificant acts of care by individuals take on the nature of magic rituals, where it is not the result that matters, but rather the repeated sequence of actions.

In her series, How Can I Explain the World to a Newborn (I Have No Idea), artist Lucy Ivanova creates an imaginary world that is bright and colorful and filled with childlike, pure images. Yet, a closer look reveals that tiny animals, fantastic beasts, flowers, and clouds neighbor elements of wartime reality. Alongside the toys in the sandbox are landmines; an airplane in the bright blue sky drops bombs; and edible mushrooms grow next to nuclear ones. This coexistence of the magical and the dangerous reflects the experience of a newborn child. Unlike those who had to adapt to new conditions and a reality full of challenges, this is the only possible reality for the newborn, and it shapes their initial perception of life. By addressing the experience of motherhood in times of war, the artist conveys the dissonance between private happiness and collective trauma, as well as the impossibility of separating admiration for the first interactions with the world from experiencing danger.

In her artistic practice, Olia Yeriemieieva often turns to the contemplation of the body in times of war, exploring its fragility, trauma, and capacity to bear pain and loss. The desperate desire to preserve whatever has not yet been lost impels one to find ways to return to the old reality or to return to life even after death.

The paintings in the artistʼs series Body Returning Attempts depict trees with parts of the human body growing out of them. The split between human flesh and tree is sometimes abrupt and painful, bleeding and revealing fresh scars as if the concretion were not yet finished. These images do not romanticize the transformation; rather, they document the process of change. This fusion brings no peace. It is only a desperate attempt to give agency back to the lost and to find a form that can endure the violence of war.

In her artwork, 40 Rhombus, created at the beginning of Russiaʼs full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Kseniya Bilyk reflects on the tension and uncertainty of those first months. The visual basis for the tapestry is the rhomb, a pre-Christian symbol of the earth, which Bilyk combines with black and red colors that underscore the tragedy of the earth’s fate in times of war. The title of the artwork is also a reference to the biblical significance of the number 40, which symbolizes the wanderings of the human soul and the 40 days of fasting. It represents a spiritual journey full of challenges and endurance that ultimately leads to purification.

Due to forced displacement in search of safety at the beginning of the full-scale war, the artist was unable to work in her studio or maintain a consistent work process, which is crucial for tapestry weaving techniques. She created separate fragments in different cities and countries and added them to the main canvas after each return home. This process affected the visual structure of the work, which lacks the typical rhythmicity characteristic of traditional carpets. Yet, it has a variety of patterns and details that highlight the plurality of lived experiences. The process of weaving and connecting the fragments itself became a ritual of looking for stability and rhythm in an unpredictable world, offering the promise of an inevitable return home.

In her new work, Your Presence Is Sealed, and I Am the Only Way In, Zhenia Stepanenko plays with the live format. Viewers are invited to observe rooms in a private home where paranormal events are taking place. The video draws on many pop culture references, from horror film aesthetics to ‘fake’ streams, but it deliberately avoids creating the illusion of real paranormal activity.

The personal aspect of the work is connected to the artist’s childhood memories. The time she spent with her grandmother, who practiced magic, significantly influenced her worldview and perception of the world around her. The artist perceived the house in Myrhorod, where she spent a lot of time as a child, as a space full of mystery. After her grandmother passed away, Stepanenko returned to the house and made a video aimed at unveiling the invisible presence of her loved one in the empty interior. According to belief, the soul of the deceased remains around the home for 40 days after death.

By combining a belief in the existence of the afterlife with a psychoanalytic approach to magic, the artist touches upon unresolved loss and attempts to let go of the past. When we look and wait for ‘signs’ and they don’t appear, we create them ourselves to postpone facing grief. Unconscious fears and repressed emotions emerge as half-ironic interpretations of the paranormal, turning the plot into a study of the boundary between reality, fantasy, and individual memory.

Ritual baking has been an important part of Ukrainian culture since ancient times, accompanying holidays and customs. Each type of baked goods had a special symbolic meaning in family, wedding, funeral, and calendar rituals, and they were intended to maintain a connection with nature and past generations. The baked goods were usually decorated with figurines made of dough, shaped like birds, flowers, or ears of grain, which served as talismans.

In her work Unbaked Decoration, Lada Verbina addresses this aspect of tradition. She is particularly interested in the symbolic meaning of the shapes and ornaments that are an integral part of these products. Reflecting on her experience living in Zakarpattia at the beginning of the full-scale invasion and observing local traditions, the artist has repeatedly turned to the themes of bread and baking in her work. She has focused on the importance of manual labor and the continuity of traditions, which enables the transfer of knowledge from generation to generation. In this process, each pattern may remain unchanged or take on new forms in a modern reinterpretation. The baking process itself becomes a ritual in which each action has significance and sacred meaning.

Anton Saenko took the photograph Moose at Nahirna Street in the fall of 2023 at the entrance to the Kyiv Institute of Automatics, which houses art studios. The moose in the picture fled a forest fire and wandered through residential areas for two days. Searching for a safe place can prompt animals to leave their natural environment, and such a change in behavior is not uncommon in times of ecological crisis. Such phenomena disrupt the usual flow of reality and can be perceived as a sign, warning, or omen of significant upcoming events or changes.

In the photo, the moose’s body appears fragmented. Only part of it is visible, as if it were in an intermediate state between the city and nature. At that moment, the moose’s unexpected appearance temporarily brought the entire street to a halt. Everything froze, attesting to the beast’s unusual, almost mystical presence.

The performance Several Exercises for Birth emerges as a ritual act in which the last representatives of humanity embark on a journey to create life anew amid the ruins of the old world. Through a ghostly dance on the border of hope and madness, they share a collective experience where memories of the past blend with visions of a post-apocalyptic future. Here, bodies become conduits between individual memory and shared space. The performers interact with each other and the surrounding landscape, drawing on their experiences, losses, and hopes.

In times of war and forced displacement, this performance takes on special meaning. It addresses the issue of lost homes and a generation scattered around the world, forced to seek new places to live. Here, ritual becomes an act of refusal to disappear and an opportunity for resistance. Through movement, breathing, and interaction, it affirms presence, restores memory, and unlocks the possibility of a new future.

Four ceramic figures depict the transformation of a human into a butterfly, from initial stage to final stage: the imago. In her work Metamorphosis, Yeva Kafidova refers to the myth according to which, after death, every soul is given the opportunity to experience one last day on Earth in the form of a butterfly before passing into the afterlife.

In 2022, the start of the Ukrainian counteroffensive in the Kherson Oblast, where the artist previously lived, coincided with the mass migration of butterflies. Their dead bodies littered the artist’s balcony. As she collected them daily, she thought about those who had crossed the threshold of death within her home territory, serving as a reminder of the countless deaths and losses reported daily.Ultrasound of Butterfly Cocoons series attempts to capture the intermediate state and glimpse the elusive transition from living to nonliving. Thus, the ultrasound examination method, typically linked to the anticipation of new life, serves as a means to contemplate its fading.

Black eyes stare into the darkness of the exhibition space, creating an unsettling feeling of constant observation with their piercing gaze. Titled Eyes, this was the last work created by artist Oleg Holosiy shortly before his tragic death. It was never finished. An almost schematic image of a face emerges from smudges and drips of paint, giving the painting a special dynamism. At the same time, it evokes a sense of elusiveness as it gradually dissolves and merges with the background. Addressing existential fears and anxieties, the artist seems to open up the space beyond. A gaze emerging from the abyss carries with it the sense of an inevitable encounter with something greater and unknown.