Over the last 3 days I have worked with 15 creative producers, programmers and self producing artists in a packed 15 hour course here in Kyiv. Enormous thanks to the beautiful Ivan Franko Theatre for hosting us, and to Annastasiia and Marharyta for making us so welcome. We were in a rehearsal room perched high above the foyer overlooking a sun kissed public square. At times we had to head down to the lower ground floor as the reality of the invasion was signalled to us in yellow and red alarms.
I am not experienced enough to identify the various wizzes or explosions. I trusted my colleagues who had access to various detailed feeds to know when the offending drone or missile has gone over. [Oh poo…I’m interrupted by a yellow alarm in my hotel room]. Our policy through the course was to take serious notice of the red alarms, and head to safety, but in the main to carry on away from the windows if it was a yellow alarm. On one occasion the explosions appeared too close for a comfortable yellow feeling, and we also had an unwritten rule that if one of us felt concerned we would all stop.
I love the lessons in gallows humour I have learned here over my three visits to Ukraine this year. Also the very practical advise that you will never hear the missile that gets you – and since I kept hearing these particular missiles and explosions, I could feel relatively safe.
I’m here for a week this time. My colleagues have been going through this day after day for 5 years as the Full Scale Invasion grinds on past the length of the 1st World War to over 1600 days now. The excess of adrenelin; the freeze, fight or flight mechanisms of our ancient brains; and the awareness of the global lethargy on tackling the regime of the invader, surely all add up to a lasting psycho-physical trauma which will be passed on through generations.
I had a deep conversation with an international theatremaker and member of the armed forces who, like everyone I meet, showed the steely determination to fight for freedom, but also the resigned acceptance that it will take generations for the parts of Ukraine destroyed by the evil invaders to be rebuilt. Parents will not see their homes again where they have been bombed or destroyed by advancing troops committing daily war crimes. Maybe their children will be part of the rebuilding, and maybe their grandchildren 40 years from now will be going into their local theatre, enjoying the Crimea beach holidays, and proudly acknowledging the debt their grandparents paid for their freedom.
These stories, the tragedy and the hope, will be told through theatre and music. The participants in this workshop will be the producers of this generation bringing new work to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, or Prague or Gothenburg Fringe festivals, or on tour to London.
One of my guest speakers on zoom this week expressed perfectly why I want to keep coming back to Ukraine and helping to make stuff happen “We feel paralysed, guilty, powerless and sad” at what we witness from a distance in the news. I would add Charlotte Higgins exploration of anger and rage to those feelings. The rage can lead us to action.
If you read this and work in the arts, or wonder how you might help creative artists in Ukraine get their voices heard and their stories seen, then please explore how you might take action. It is not about money (although like all creative practice a donor or sponsor is vital). It may be about collaboration, championing, welcoming, guiding, or just buying a ticket to something. It is definitely about looking at Ukraine as a vibrant culture, filled with beautiful cities and equally beautiful people. The devastation is just part of the story. The cultural drive and the wonderful creativity, is the story of the future. Read a Ukrainian novel, seek out a Ukrainian composer, re-wonder where a particular inventor or creative might have come from before they were wrongly re-labelled as part of another’s empire.
And, when you feel able, visit this beautiful Country and explore the ancient heritage, and the contemporary culture. I can’t wait to go to other cities. But for now, its off on a bus to Lviv to sip coffee in wonderful outdoor cafes as the autumn chill takes hold.