Ukrainian artist, author and blogger Olga Grebennik wrote "War Diary" in March 2022, in 8 days from a basement in the town of Kharkov from her home country. She has done it to stay afloat in the sound of explosions and sirens, in the middle of a relentless armed conflict.
Olga had to pack for herself, her two children and their dog, Mikki, to leave in 10 minutes from the war-torn city. She left behind her husband and parents, her plans and her whole life until then.
The author / artist will be present on Thursday, July 21 at Seneca AntiCafe where the second edition of her book is launched in a discussion with the public moderated by Cristina Stanciulescu #peopleperson.
On the same day, the opening of the participatory exhibition The Artist Between War and Peace takes place, with the sale of the artist's works.
I talked to Olga about pre-war Ukraine, her book about the world, and the uncertain future of her return to her homeland.
The transition from architecture to illustration
I changed my lifestyle with a new one. My son was born and I understood that I can no longer walk through construction sites or communicate with customers like I used to. I had to rethink my way of working and to pay more attention to my son.
And here my drawing skills helped me. My artistic skills and love for architecture all started at once. Up until now I illustrated over 15 books, and I'm not even talking about private orders.
If I had to choose a Ukrainian artist, it would be Aleksandr Murașco. I often admired his work, I studied the way he used color. He was a Soviet artist who glorified the beauty of Ukraine. He wanted the development of the country, he said that we should not stop at traditional blouses (vyșivanki). We have to move on to the future. But, unfortunately, he was executed by the Soviet authorities.
You published books with illustrations for children in Russia
I will not work with Russians again, at least until the regime there changes. The war diary is published in the online magazine Republic.ru. So far so good.
The foxes, of course. I jokingly called myself an artist - fox-miam-miam-ist. They brought me popularity and recognition. And then they became part of the book - Don't be upset, Mommy!
The international exhibitions
I did not travel with my works around the world. My artworks were luckier than me in terms of traveling. The drawings were bought on Instagram and I sent them by mail. They circulated far and wide on most continents.
My future plans? To survive. To be honest, I'm afraid to make plans after, at the touch of a button, my plans were permanently and irrevocably shattered.
Your memories of Ukraine and the city where you lived, Kharkov
All the memories of Kharkov cause me pain.
First of all: my holiday home near Kharkov. The childhood home, the garden I cultivated for many years, the birch orchard ... all of these are no more.
Secondly: the Maxim Gorky amusement park, where Fedia grew up. It is completely destroyed.
Third: Freedom Square. Every Monday and Friday, my little girl and I would go there to the Central Palace of Culture for dance classes. There I watched how the city's Christmas tree is decorated, how the skating rink opens and how the palace is decorated. There we bought a delicious cheese with cheese, we enjoyed the singing fountains. There is no such thing and it will not be the same.
I was born and raised in Kharkov, right in the center of it. This is my home and Ukraine is my homeland. I love this city for its gentleness, especially for its comfort, for its streets with beautiful houses and green parks.
My family is still in Ukraine. They are not safe, because there is, in principle, no safe place. I pray that everything will be fine and every day I check how I am.
How did the War Diary begin
We woke up to some strange sounds. Fireworks? Rumbles from all sides. And then I understood: it's war.
A terrible fear came over me, causing me to have cramps in my stomach. I had to do something: put together a survival kit, load my work on a hard drive, write my name and phone number on the children's arms. But nothing depended on us.
Fortunately, we were still coming out of the basement. I was coming back down when I heard explosions. I spent the night there, because I was afraid of children. From the 9th floor, at night, you can't get them down quickly. Our apartment was transformed into the headquarters of the transfer. The windows with paper crosses on them, the glass doors down, the mirrors as well. The necessary things were in the hall. In the kitchen - the basic necessities that I found around the house.
It was February. Winter. Cold. Lots of clothes. You can't get dressed quickly. In the basement I slept in jackets and hats.
I'm scared to remember.
I sometimes draw in sketchbooks. I brought one, for example, from a Christmas trip. In the basement I recorded everything that was happening around me. Details that you can't invent if you don't live them yourself. And I put all this on the blog, I transmitted life from the basement.
This is how I realized that you are not allowed to ask your life for any guarantees. You just don't have that right. Are you alive and well? Thank God.
We are ok in Bulgaria. It is good, warm, and the food is tasty. But these days are here and now. Tomorrow, as far as I remember it, does not exist for me.
Of course I'm still working, it's a gift to me that I know how to draw. I can express my pain in drawing, in poetry (surprisingly for myself). I live thanks to art.
The Fear
Yes, fear. Drawing distracted me, it was my therapy. An escape into a world of my own, small goals helped me turn my attention away from that absolute disaster.
Throughout the book, I just voiced this thought: There is nothing more precious than a man's life. No political idea can invade life. If it does, it's a bad idea, it should be eliminated. Unfortunately, some people still write to me that bombing the right people is normal. No it isn’t! It's not normal and it can't be normal! Until you have experienced the fear of war on your own skin, you will never understand this, it will seem to you that war is somewhere far away.
One of my Korean readers on Instagram showed the pages to a Korean writer. And she, in turn, recommended the pages to the Munghak Publishing House. They set me some very difficult conditions: in two weeks to turn the sketches into a book, to create the structure, to write an introduction. I managed to do it and the book was published.
The poems
Olia, Olechka, Oliga
Where did the soft sign go?
This is where I became Olga
But it's temporary, "it's like that for now.
I think so! Poems appear when I am very nervous. I take the pen and write them down in one go. When I'm well, I don't write any poetry.
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