This Is My Home
Home is about feeling. How I was looking for my own.
My name is Oleksandra Burbela, I am the owner of a craft workshop and shop space in Kyiv — Maysternya, and this is my story about home, war, and dreams. Since the beginning of the war, I have not seen my home in Kyiv. I haven’t seen my home in Crimea for three years. And I don’t know if I will ever see Alchevsk and my grandmother, who didn’t want to leave her house 8 years ago.
Where is my home?
I was born in the city of Alchevsk, Luhansk region, grew up in Crimea, came of age in Kyiv, and “met” the war in Kharkiv. Currently, I am where I have enjoyed traveling the most in recent years and where I’ve dreamed of living — in the Carpathian Mountains.
I remember Alchevsk (a city in eastern Ukraine, now occupied by Russia) only from childhood — by summer trips to my grandmothers. In my memories, it remains not a city of miners, but rather a scent of cherries from the garden of great-grandmother Masha. These are just childhood memories.
Instead, Crimea will forever remain the home in which I grew up. For me, this is not a resort and not just the sea and mountains with tents, as it is for many. This is a very diverse story in one peninsula. Crimea cannot be “embraced”. Its history is much bigger than all who have seen it, and so are its land, sea, mountains, and steppes. You can’t come to Crimea once or ten times and say “I was there.” It is also impossible to say “Crimea is ours” because it’s ridiculous and pointless for everyone who not only knows Crimea but understands it. One day after the annexation of the peninsula, my close friend, also a Crimean woman living in Kyiv, said: Crimea is not “ours”, not yours, not mine, Crimea is it's own. I know that it will be difficult to understand without living there, especially against the backdrop of the war, when all Ukrainians, and I too, will say that Crimea is Ukraine. Still, this is so — for me, Crimea is not the people who inhabit it. This is the energy of the earth and nature itself. And I believe that one day this peninsula will live the life that really belongs to it.
Yes, it hurts a lot that maybe my future children won’t even know what Crimea is like and how I saw and felt it for 16 years. It hurts that I will not be able to show my house by the sea in the west of the peninsula (Donuzlav, the town of Myrnyi). It hurts that I can no longer visit the Maximilian Voloshin House-Museum in Koktebel, the place of my first official job, where I was a tour guide one summer. A place that became somewhat mystical and prophetic to me in all my subsequent endeavors. It hurts that I don’t have the opportunity to show this part of my life even to my loved one. And the most pleasant memories will remain only memories.
I left Crimea at the age of 16, following my father, who had already moved to the capital at that time for his former job. I spent the last two years of school in Kyiv (I changed 4 schools in total, we often moved, in Crimea as well), then I entered the Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv to get a degree in publishing and all the following years I lived in Kyiv. Here, in Kyiv, I created my own workshop of craft interior elements, which I called Maysternya. My mother also had her own business in Crimea, which she had been building for as long as I can remember, from my childhood and beyond, for more than 20 years. Therefore, she stayed in Crimea until the annexation. Then she left. She is a self-sufficient woman and person, very smart, wise, strong, and resistant to anything.
I cannot tell exactly what she felt when she decided to go to Kyiv. To start everything from scratch at the age of 55–60 … Now many Ukrainians feel it. At the time of the annexation, there was a kind of “silent terror” in Crimea for those who disagreed — Ukrainians and Crimean Tatars. People just silently packed their things, left their lives there, and went somewhere — some to Ukraine, some abroad. Over those 8 years, many have left. But not everyone could afford it — I think it is needless to explain something here. This is a difficult experience. I react quite aggressively when those who did not live there talk about Crimea and just judge by the news. I struggle with this aggression, but no matter how many years have passed, they all seem like one day. Maybe someday I will be able to form a clear opinion on this account, but now I am still not able to. I still have emotions and feelings …
But it is this feeling of home that I have learned to transform in myself — into a feeling of home that for me is not only an apartment, a house, and a settlement. I am now in the Carpathians with the people closest to me. This is my home too. Just like Kyiv, where my father is now, whom I miss. And Crimea — where my memories will always be — is impossible to occupy.
The war came to my house again
I “met” the war in Kharkiv. Two days before February 24, my intuition sent me there. My boyfriend Serhiy lived in Kharkiv, and I, feeling something disturbing, silently took a train ticket early in the morning and arrived by surprise. I wanted to be there if something started, not alone in my apartment in Kyiv. We laughed together at my sentimentality when we met. The next night we knew that the war broke out in the country.
At 5 am we woke up to the sound of explosions. I then thought, “Here’s how it starts.” For the first 10 days, we were in Kharkiv with him and his parents. But from the first day, I was worried only about Kyiv, my mother, my father, and my cats. The latter, thanks to friends, were lucky to be picked up from the apartment.
On the first day of the war we woke up to the sounds of explosions — it was multiple rocket launchers. The next day we were already sitting in the basement. On the fourth day, we decided that it was safer in the corridor because the basements were not equipped and we could not get out in case of a blockage. But it is clear that neither the corridor, nor the basement, nor the bathroom, nor the vestibule of the apartment gave a sense of security at all. The horror for Kharkiv was in my head 24/7. It was the horror that I saw with my own eyes, or rather heard with my own ears, and it was the fear for Kyiv, which I could neither see nor hear.
Yes, I came to Kharkiv and Serhiy because of the fear of war. Yet this fear was more of a subconscious thing. In my mind, I planned to return to Kyiv in a couple of days, so I went without my things or even documents. Then came the morning when we heard the first sounds of fighter jets. Before that, I heard of a fighter jet only in Crimea, during their exercises. In the first years after the annexation, I came to Crimea twice, and then I heard this sound (in Crimea there are old Soviet military bases, which came in handy to Russia immediately after the annexation ). Now everyone understands why they have been “exercising” there all these years. The fighter jets sound scary, especially when you realize that they are not exercising here, but destroying. Ten days later, the two of us were evacuated by train. It was the only possible step for my mother to leave Kyiv. When you are physically not at home, away from family — you do not worry about yourself, you only worry about them. I can’t put into words how it is when you can’t help the closest people physically when you’re not around — just in the first days of panic when no one understands anything at all.
Evacuation
My evacuation with Serhiy is a whole other story. If I hadn’t gone with him, I would not have left at all. Heavy feelings are when you want to be in different places at the same time. I am grateful to him that we went together. That we faced the war together and that now we both do what we have to do and that we have the opportunity to help others. The decision to go to Kharkiv before the war was 100% right for me. I was then jokingly asked if I regretted coming to the very border with Russia for the explosions. I would regret it now if I hadn’t come. Being in Kharkiv at that time was the only thing I did not regret then or now.
We arrived at Kharkiv railway station in the morning. There were queues for all the trains, which I saw only in the movies, and at 12 o’clock an explosion took place somewhere outside the station. Half the day we spent in the subway, as in a shelter. We managed to leave late in the evening. The train was on its way to Lviv, the doors did not even open in Kyiv (again, due to the explosion at the capital’s railway station that day). I could not even go out for a moment and feel its air. We spent our trip to Lviv in the aisle, standing or sitting on the floor. I somehow perched on the aisle between the cars and fell asleep on the floor in the only place where it was free, Serhiy was standing all the time, making sure that people did not walk on me. The train journey lasted 15 hours. People in the cars were mostly laying on the floor, and animals were sleeping on their seats. It’s true. I remember that train and that night more vividly than 10 days of explosions. Hundreds of different human destinies; people without baggage, but with their families and animals traveled in different directions. Some of them went to the West of the country, and some of them went abroad. Some of these people no longer have homes and places to return to. What do you think is home for them?
Ukrainians abroad
I found myself somewhere in the middle between those who stayed in the cities and those who left. I am sure that the choice to stay and the choice to go are equally difficult. I know for myself what it is like to move into the unknown. And I know how missiles sound (though not for long, but 10 days will be enough not to forget). I know for sure that there is no right or wrong decision on this issue now. There is a person and there is their decision. Many of my friends are abroad now — I feel a certain force in it as if a connection of thousands and thousands of handshakes. Throughout Ukraine, Europe, and beyond. From those who help from there, to the volunteers who help here. One thing I can say for sure — if I didn’t have those friends who went abroad now, and if Serhiy, my mother, my cat, and I hadn’t ended up in Western Ukraine — the idea to turn our own workshop into an assistance fund wouldn’t have appeared and wouldn’t have turned into a real plan of action at all.
If you have a happy life being where life goes on now — you shouldn’t be ashamed of it, you have to hold on to it and live as you’ve always wanted to. Help, work, dream, love, build, create. Otherwise, how else what now tens of thousands of Ukrainian soldiers are protecting with their own lives will be preserved?
About Maysternya as an embodiment of the idea of home
One and a half years ago, before the full-scale war, I created Maysternya, a craft workshop, and shop in Kyiv, my place of power. It holds a lot of ideas. Among them is the goal to unite craftsmen from all over Ukraine, thus showing in Ukraine and abroad all the diversity of our culture, history and lifestyle, carved by the hands of various talented people in various craft products. One of the main directions in the creation of Maysternya was rebirth. Old in new. This is the idea of ecology, recycling, and a new creative view on the use of garbage. Because garbage, in fact, we produce ourselves. When throwing away something old, one sees it as unnecessary, and the other will look at the beauty, experience and basis for creating something new. For example, furniture restoration. Or even an ordinary broken mirror…
Personally, I like mosaic, and a broken mirror is one of my favorite materials on a par with expensive stained glass — it is in the combination of these two materials, old and new, that you can create a truly unusual product. I remember my grandmother’s old porcelain that crashed. It is a pity to throw away such memory, and why would I, if these fragments can be turned into a coffee table or a vase or anything else — by means of a mosaic.
Maysternya itself is located in Kyiv. There’s its physical address. There is a house where the idea itself lives😊 Before the war, you could come there to spend creative time, and learn to create something yourself — from mosaics to ceramics. I hope that Maysternya will gradually resume its work in the direction of master classes. Kyiv is as strong as its people — most institutions have already returned to work. The workshop is also on its way to this.
One of my teachers, a very talented mosaic master Oleh Dunayevsky from Ivano-Frankivsk, told me at the beginning of the war that he had completely lost the desire to do mosaic … It was this sad phrase that motivated me to return to my own work and find a way, how and in what way Maysternya can be useful. Both for the creators and the country as a whole. And how we can help the country together with the craftsmen.
Home is not about the place
For me personally, Home is a feeling. Harmony within myself, peace of mind, security for body and soul, personal comfort, and personal daily rituals. All these feelings are the only feeling of home for me. Yes, in my opinion, the word “home” can denote feelings. When we are asked, “how are you feeling?” And we answer “at home” — we do not mean a house or a room — we are talking about our feeling of home, which is always with us, wherever we are. Therefore, for me, home is first of all a perception and even a feeling.
In Maysternya, we worked with various craftsmen and artists to understand the personal feelings of each individual customer’s home and convey all of them physically, visually, and tactilely — creating those objects of the house that show your character, your style, your story. So an ordinary house turns into a Home.
In the new year, I sold part of my property and this money was intended to go to the development of Maysternya as a business — advertising, renovation, materials and equipment for production, and so on. During the first year of Maysternya, I clearly understood what needed to be done to develop this business, which I wanted (and still want) to make a family. And then the war started.
The main goal of Maysternya now is to collect and show the world and Ukrainians a collection of works by artists and craftsmen from different parts of the country. That’s why my mother and I turned the former business budget into an art assistance fund Maysternya. We collect and buy works from various authors. The interior remains the main direction of Maysternya, and the theme that should unite all the works and all the authors is “This Is My Home”. If you are lucky, these works will go to Europe, and maybe even further, bringing with them our sense of home.
The dream that gave rise to the idea of Maysternya is a dream of Home. What it should look like inside, what things make it yours, and convey your personal story, character, and worldview.
No war will take away this dream from me, but on the contrary, it makes it even stronger every day.
Hereinafter, the text is for artists and craftsmen living in Ukraine and abroad who represent Ukraine and are willing to help.
How we want to see our future home. Our own home. The home of your dreams. Home for your children. The Home already has a centuries-old history and is now creating a new one. How do you see it? What things, what culture, what values will it hold?
Maysternya is looking for your work
Imagine everything that can decorate a future Ukrainian house, home. From paintings to sculptures, from carpets and tablecloths to pottery and any other products in which you feel Ukraine.
The fund will purchase works of art, 50–100% of the cost of which will go to help the country. Where exactly? You decide this by choosing the recipient to whom we should transfer funds.
After purchasing products from our foundation, you continue to help. The collection will go to exhibitions abroad, where it will continue to raise charitable funds. Thus, the works under your authorship will be seen by European countries, and all the money raised will continue go to help Ukraine.
The fee for each author is from 1500 to 33000 UAH.
Maysternya does not make money in this process.
All the funds for which your works will be purchased are our own savings, without investors and collection of funds. The funds that were supposed to go to the development of Maysternya in peacetime — today formed a family assistance fund.
For what purpose? To remind them that right now everyone should be in their place and do their thing.
If you are born to create, then create.
Your art saves Ukraine.
We are waiting for the photos of your work with the name and date of creation or a sketch of your future works on Telegram @fondmasterskaya.
Your personal war stories. Pain. Losses. Emotions. Feeling. Past. Future. Culture. Values. Whatever you want to say to Ukraine, the world, the aggressor, say it with your own hands and soul. And let the whole world see what it is — our Home.
This Is My Home.
This is Ukraine.
