The Ukrainian artist fighting destruction with creation

Yahoo

16-03-2025

During scheduled power outages earlier in the war, Ukrainian artist Maryna Lukach adapted her work schedule to the sporadic availability of electricity. 'I set my alarm clock for whenever the power was supposed to come on,' she said.
If she knew the power was slated to be restored at 2 a.m., Lukach, who creates intricate textile and mixed-media artworks, would sleep until then, waking up to work in her workshop for a few hours until the next outage. During the powerless stretches, she slept. 'It was a really interrupted schedule — my head hurt,' Lukach told me over Zoom from her workshop in Chabany, a rural settlement about 18 miles from Kyiv.
Switching between the practical and creative aspects of life was possible because Lukach essentially lives in her workshop — the space is attached to the home where she lives with her husband, Rostyslav. During nights interrupted by thundering air raids, this proximity to a workspace also turned out to be useful. 'Air sirens wake you up,' she explained. 'Then they stop, but you can't go back to sleep. You're already awake, so what do you do?' She would head into her workshop and begin sewing.
Lukach's life offers a glimpse into the daily reality of ordinary Ukrainians and their resilience as they continue to adapt under the unforgiving strain of war, three years after Russia's invasion upended their sense of normalcy. In what she sees as an answer to prayer, her work caught the attention of a Ukraine supporter in Las Vegas — a pediatric surgeon drawn to its cultural depth and intricate storytelling. Although her art had already been exhibited in the U.S., it has recently reached a wider international audience, serving as a bridge between Ukraine and those who stand in solidarity with its people.
Almost as a counterbalance to the brutality of the war, Lukach's art bursts with color and texture — silk, lace, felt, ribbons, colorful dyes, beads, photography, embroidery, collage. While her earlier work leaned toward home décor, her recent pieces depict themes from Ukrainian history, important cultural and historical figures, traditional motifs and cityscapes. Some take months to complete, with prices ranging from $300 to $2,000. Her work has garnered numerous awards and many of her artworks are now on display in Las Vegas.
The Church History Museum of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has acquired two of her works. And in May, her work will be on display at the Ukraine House in Washington, D.C., a red-brick cultural hub opened in 2021 by Ukraine President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and his wife, Olena Zelenska.
Earlier in the war, an explosion shattered the doors of Lukach's house and damaged the windows and roof. The roof of her neighbors' home was destroyed. Three years into the war, even when the power stays on, it's still hard for her to sleep: 'It was really loud the other day. Everything was shaking and trembling,' she told me recently.
Yet, amid the uncertainty and chaos of war, Lukach finds solace in her workshop. 'I come in, and here I have French lace, beads, fabric scraps, an iron, my computer,' she said. 'Here, I work with beauty.'
As we talk over Zoom, I can see behind Lukach a towering two-story rack that holds thousands of fabric pieces. She inherited the collection, sourced from across Europe, from a fabric business that was discarding its collection of sample materials. 'When I was looking through them, I was so happy,' she recalled. In her workshop, Lukach is surrounded by her materials: spools of thread, boxes with labels like 'sea' and 'sky,' scraps of textiles, frames, jars with beads. 'I'm sorry for the little bit of an artistic mess,' she tells me, tilting her camera so I can get a view of the space.
Previously a director and photographer, Lukach was drawn to a new medium during the Maidan Revolution, also known as the Revolution of Dignity — a series of protests that erupted in the city's center in 2013 in response to the Ukrainian government's decision to suspend an association agreement with the European Union in favor of closer ties with Russia. More than 100 people died in the violent clashes.
'Maidan in those days was like a movie set,' Lukach recalled. It was an epicenter of action, with clashes between the police and the citizens, a surreal scene, she said, that blended a striking mix of festivity and death. Just a few blocks away from the violent commotion, cafés and restaurants operated as if nothing had changed.
At that moment, Lukach felt compelled to capture what she was witnessing in art. 'I don't know how I got this idea, but I wanted to preserve all the artifacts in the form of a painting,' she said. She began gathering remnants from the streets — rocks, pieces of burnt tires, paving stones, fragments of fabrics — she even picked up a piece of an EU flag stained with blood. 'It was like they were museum artifacts begging to be preserved,' she told me. She placed them all in a bag and took them home.
Mass protests grew into a nationwide movement for democratic reforms, an end to corruption and Ukraine's former president Viktor Yanukovych's resignation. Yanukovych fled the country in February 2014, marking a pivotal moment in Ukraine's struggle for sovereignty and alignment with the West.
The material Lukach collected became part of her first mixed-media artwork, 'The Price of Freedom,' a vibrant collage with poppies, bucolic scenes, a female figure and black silhouettes of the policemen. 'I was figuring out all the technologies — the right thickness levels of fabrics, when to use chiffon fabric, when to use cotton,' said Lukach, who was skilled in sewing and embroidery, but refined her technique through research and online YouTube tutorials. It took her 530 hours over a period of six months to complete her first piece, which is now displayed at the Ukrainian Center in Las Vegas.
Lukach soon discovered, however, that the general public was drawn to lighter subjects — flowers, jellyfish, nature, cats and dogs and other playful themes that brighten a home. Occasionally, she received unexpected requests through her online shop — like the time a woman commissioned a Jamaican flag. Over time, Lukach's clientele expanded to include Americans working at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints' temple in Kyiv. Some bought artwork depicting the temple, while others were drawn to her ever-popular animal pieces.
Then, one day, a stranger from Las Vegas bought one of Lukach's works through her Etsy shop (which she has since closed due to the war). He made several purchases and, eventually, ended up buying most of the Ukraine-themed pieces in her online shop. 'I was confused,' Lukach told me. 'I thought, maybe I'm missing something.'
Soon after, she received a message from Dr. David Stewart, a pediatric orthopedic surgeon in Las Vegas, who said he wanted to support Ukraine and was committed to buying more of Lukach's work.
Stewart had discovered Lukach on Facebook and was stunned by her embroidery and technique, which paid homage to Ukraine's rich and ancient history of the craft, he told me. 'She weaves these amazing tapestries that tell a story,' he said. Stewart, whose wife is from the Odesa region in Ukraine, had served a mission in Russia for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and yet he wanted to do his part in supporting Ukraine in the tumultuous times. Since 2010, Stewart has traveled to Ukraine two to three times a year for a collaboration with an orthopedics and traumatology group in Kyiv.
Stewart commissioned Lukach to create a series of works on Ukrainian history and culture, providing her with a list of over 100 themes, including Ukrainian ancient Trypilia culture and early Slavic traditions. Lukach researched the subjects in depth, visiting museums and gathering as many details as possible — right down to the hair color of historical figures. Filling in the details about early cultures is particularly challenging due to limited historical and archaeological records, Stewart said, and the two collaborate on their research to get those details right.
In the summer of 2024, Stewart visited Lukach's workshop in Chabany. 'One of the Russian myths about Ukrainians is that they are kind of illiterate country people who are backwards,' Stewart told me. 'But Ukrainian culture is high culture and much of what Muscovite Russia claims to be its own culture is actually appropriated from Ukraine, so part of the conflict is that Russia is laying claim to a false history.'
About 50 of Lukach's works are now displayed at the Ukrainian Center in Las Vegas, founded by Stewart and his wife in a space that's connected to his medical practice. Lukach traveled to the U.S. for the opening of the center and spoke at Utah Valley University. 'It was the first time I saw 40 of my paintings all in the same room,' said Lukach, whose daughter served a mission in Salt Lake City and studied at Brigham Young University. Her son is studying at BYU online.
The Church History Museum bought two of Lukach's works — depicting temples in Salt Lake City and Kyiv —for their collection.
For Lukach, Stewart's interest in her art felt like the answer to prayers. 'I prayed for someone who would love and buy one of my paintings, and that he would buy my whole store and would continue commissioning for years,' Lukach told me. She's now at work on a new series commissioned by Stewart, a project that she predicts will likely take two or three years to complete.
Lukach joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1998, after her husband hired a church member as an employee for his business. Lukach's daughter began attending English classes taught by missionaries and converted. 'At first we were really nervous about her joining the church, so we went with her to 'save' her,' she told me. 'And then we ended up saving ourselves.' (Lukach's 45-year-old daughter now lives in Utah, and her 25-year-old son lives in Ukraine.)
For nearly 30 years now, Lukach has been teaching institute of religion classes and Sunday school. She teaches the institute of religion classes online — about 120 people tune in to the classes, some in Ukraine and others who left home after the invasion.
Most days, when the power stays on uninterrupted, Lukach comes to her workshop early in the morning and works until late at night, when she's ready to go to bed. To unwind, she reads the news on her phone, and when despair sets in, she listens to classical music. Amid destabilizing and relentless war, her workshop feels like a safe cocoon. 'I basically live in the workshop,' she told me, 'I love this work.' On her Facebook profile, she wrote the words: 'How do I fight destruction? Only by creating.'