A group of activists is fighting for the preservation of a historical monument in the center of Kyiv—a building located at 37 Reitarska Street that a developer plans to demolish. Their struggle echoes the past, when the Soviet regime sought to erase Ukrainian identity. The inconvenient heritage becomes a foundation for memory and the future.

Sleep paralysis is a phenomenon where a person is on the border of sleep and reality. Trying to escape it and force themselves to awake, a human experiences paralysis, suffocation, blindness, chest pressure, and delirium. In the installation Sleep Paralysis, this phenomenon serves as a metaphor for the fusion of the everyday and the subconscious — a state where it is difficult to distinguish reality from a nightmare. Sleep, usually one of the few accessible ways for everyone to recover, during wartime turns into a painful experience, as the night intensifies the stress and fears accumulated each day of the full-scale war.

An interdisciplinary project based on knitting techniques. During the war, news feeds were flooded with thousands of photos, reports, and videos of horrific content. This project is an attempt to talk about the war without showing it directly. Through the practice of knitting, which, in contrast to violence, relaxes the body and mind.

How to work with memory in a state of absence? How can memory transform in isolation and is its autonomy possible? How to preserve memory when it can become the only carrier of what has disappeared? By recreating a decorative ornamental panel of stone embroideries from the currently occupied Nova Kakhovka, the author explores this process as a way of remembering and preserving — precise yet descriptive, which further emphasizes the distance and inaccessibility of the original. Imperfections in the carving, done by hand from memory, become an important part indicating possible losses, distance, and incomplete knowledge. Using a “flickering” effect of the relief, the project works with the nature of memory to erase or replace details and elements, where parts of the panel become inaccessible for detailed viewing. Here the author stresses both the importance of preserving the original and the technique. Her work is only a copy that points to the very necessity of preservation and testifies: memory is possible only in presence, even if conditional or fragmentary. Memory endures as long as it is referenced, cared for, and preserved.

An audiovisual installation that raises questions about preserving and rethinking film heritage during the Russian-Ukrainian war. The authors explore an archive of diploma films and the experience of people connected with it — a space accumulating not only films but also professional knowledge on the verge of disappearance. Preservation and comprehension of the archive is the only way for these materials to become a film heritage. If films remain neglected for years — are they truly films? If no one remembers them — can this be called heritage?

A project about the absence of an archive that raises questions about memory, time, and ways of preserving collective experience. In the context of the active rise of archiving in Ukraine, the author wants to speak about the absence of an “archival impulse,” or a certain impossibility of preservation.

'Luhansk, My Song' is a series of video studies consisting of interviews with young people who left Luhansk after the Russian invasion in 2014. The theme of their native city and experience of forced displacement was the only one never avoided throughout long acquaintance with the author. Today, it is impossible to see Luhansk with one’s own eyes, so its image is assembled from fragments of online maps, archival videos, and stories of relatives. The videos are built on narratives about the city by the author’s friends, who sometimes express opposite views on the city and society, illustrated by found videos and map fragments. The first part focuses on the city’s industrial past and the influence of propaganda on society. The second part dives into a more intimate and emotional plane — dreams, sentimental memories, family stories. Some recall life in Luhansk with poignant nostalgia, others block their feelings for peace of mind, but even in bitter memories there is love and careful anxiety.

A video essay dedicated to memory of landscape, forced displacement, and the similarity between places you flee and places you end up. Through the image of an urban lake — as a point on a route, a memory, a dream — the author explores bodily memory, loss of home, nostalgia without return, and inner disorientation that lasts years after the war began.