Salvaging its architectural monuments, Lviv recovers, steadily (02/10/02)

Salvaging its architectural monuments, Lviv recovers, steadily

by Nicholas Sawicki

NEW YORK - Speaking before an audience at the Shevchenko Scientific Society in New York on January 20, Andriy Salyuk, the president of the Lviv Foundation for the Preservation of Architectural and Historical Monuments, is hardly at a loss for words in conveying the importance of his mission. Clearly in his element among the buildings and monuments of Lviv, he describes them with the kind of vibrant detail that immediately calls forth memories of the city, and brings one face to face with the charm of its narrow cobblestone streets, parks and bell towers.

If this alone were not persuasive enough, he has brought with him over 30 framed photographs, a video presentation and digital projections that highlight the way the historic city looks today, and how the foundation is responding to its contemporary needs.

Mr. Salyuk heads what is essentially the first non-governmental organization to focus exclusively on the preservation of Lviv's architecture and built heritage, an entity he helped found only a year and a half ago. With a board of directors that includes the current mayor of the city, Vasyl Kuibida; the directors of the Lviv Gallery of Painting; the Lviv Polytechnic, and; the Institute of Architectural Restoration; and the venerable composer and academician Mykola Kolessa, the foundation has made enormous strides in raising public awareness on preservation issues in Ukraine.

Mr. Salyuk came to New York to bring that message to an audience for whom the matter of safeguarding architecture is likely a part of the distant past. It was almost 40 years ago, in 1964, that Pennsylvania Station, a magnificent Beaux-Arts railroad terminal, was carelessly torn down to make way for a new office building, an action that inspired a series of legislative changes designed to forestall the destruction of historic buildings in the city.

This kind of demolition, although perhaps less immediately conspicuous, occurs in Lviv with startling regularity. As architectural sculpture is looted and resold, and as residents cut new doorways into historic facades, Lviv's endangered architectural monuments are allowed to crumble, the effects of climate and poor air quality taking their toll with as much, if not more, force as human neglect. Weakening from the layers of impurities deposited on the facades of buildings and the runoff that seeps into their stonework from the marshy subsoil below, the city faces a literal erosion of its history.

While the effects of time cannot always successfully be turned back, as Mr. Salyuk explained in his talk, further deterioration can be averted with preventive measures. For these efforts to bring a favorable result, he underscores, timing and professionalism are essential.

In addition to assessing current damage and drafting a priority list of buildings that require immediate attention, the foundation also acts as a fund-raiser and manager for eventual preservation projects. It pools private contributions and resources from foreign grants to carry out necessary restoration work, and several smaller projects have already been realized in this fashion.

The foundation has commissioned the production of replicas of missing niche sculpture for several local buildings, and hired artisans to replace the many forged iron gates missing throughout the city. It has begun raising funds for the restoration of a group of icons in the collection of the National Museum, and collaborated on a recent archaeological excavation that yielded a wealth of new information about the geographic extent of Lviv's medieval city center.

Among currently planned projects is an international research conference to study possible methods of restoration for the facade of the Boim Chapel, the monument that Mr. Salyuk singled out as being in the gravest of circumstances. Built for a local Hungarian merchant in the early 17th century, the chapel is known for the impressive religious narrative carved into the stone of the facade. A unique example of late Renaissance architecture, it literally crumbles at the touch.

"Today you can barely make out the silhouettes of the lions at the entrance," Mr. Salyuk explained, referring to the row of stone lions guarding the portal, "and if nothing is done to stop the further deterioration of the building, I'm afraid that as time goes by, we will have little more than photographs to show to our children and grandchildren."

It is sweat equity from a host of volunteers that fuels many of the foundation's projects. During the visit of Pope John Paul II to Lviv last summer, it dispatched groups of schoolchildren throughout the city to act as guides. Wearing shirts that announced, "I know Lviv, ask me, please," the children, who were fluent in English, French, German, Polish, Russian and Ukrainian, guided foreign tourists and curious local residents, pointing out monuments and major sites.

Events such as these, said Mr. Salyuk, are vital to raising awareness in a city where the legacy of Soviet negligence is still deeply ingrained, and where a growing desire for profit and convenience often push concerns for historical conservation to the sidelines. Lviv's greatest danger is not willing destruction, he explains, but a lack of attentiveness on the part of its residents, who often fail to take account of the historical value and real inspiration of their urban habitat.

"I was walking by a building on Valova Street," Mr. Salyuk recalled, "and there were two collapsing stone statues of knights flanking the balcony. A cord was tied across their legs, which a family had been using to dry its laundry." Indeed, opening the eyes of local residents is one of the chief goals of the foundation, and one for which Mr. Salyuk is hopefully optimistic.

The photographs of Lviv that he brought to exhibit in New York (and later in the week during talks in Philadelphia and Chicago) were originally part of an exhibition of contemporary local photographers, which made its debut in Lviv in the fall. When it opened, Mr. Salyuk fondly recalled, visitors came up to him to express their amazement, and to inquire about the buildings and details in the photographs.

While the fate of Lviv will largely be determined by its residents, it is inexorably bound to a set of problems far outside the foundation's control. Four years ago, the historic center of the city was designated a World Heritage site by UNESCO in recognition of its built architecture, some of which dates as far back as the 14th century, as well as for its multicultural history.

As Mr. Salyuk pointed out, this designation comes with new responsibilities, as well as complications. It holds the city to higher standards of preservation in the eyes of the international community, but does not always provide funding for its realization, leaving the question of financing preservation to local and state authorities, and Ukraine's ineffectual UNESCO committee. While other World Heritage sites have consistently seen sharp growth in cultural tourism, which generates a significant economic growth that can be directed to subsidizing preservation, Lviv continues to lag behind its neighbors in harnessing its fledgling tourist industry.

Of greater concern is Ukraine's hesitation to introduce legislative changes and economic incentives that are already in place in other countries, such as tax deductions or foreign property ownership, and which customarily encourage investment in the upkeep of historic buildings.

Until these instruments are in place, the hopeful but fiscally beleaguered city administration will pin its hopes on Mr. Salyuk's initiative, knowing full well that it will take nothing short of a miracle to keep Lviv's architectural heritage intact. For his part, Mr. Salyuk does not use the word lightly. In the closing moments of his talk, he recalled visiting the Boim Chapel, now the focus of a vast preservation initiative, on a morning before his departure for the United States. The stone carving of an angel had fallen to the floor of the chapel from its perch 30 feet above, and landed on the floor without breaking. When a colleague remarked that it was a "miracle" that the sculpture survived intact, Mr. Salyuk, who sees collapsing buildings every day, explained that he saw something more prophetic in the event.

"Angels are falling," he continued, "what else can this be, if not a sign that they are asking for our help?"

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For additional information readers may contact Andriy Salyuk in Lviv via telephone/fax at 011-380-322-975-852, or by e-mail at foundation@mys.lviv.ua. Donations in support of the foundation's work may be sent to the Shevchenko Scientific Society (please note Architectural Preservation Foundation-Lviv on the memo line of checks), 63 Fourth Ave., New York, NY 10003. Information is also available from the Shevchenko Society by calling (212) 254-5130.

Nicholas Sawicki is a doctoral candidate in art history at the University of Pennsylvania. He was the recent recipient of a Fulbright-Hays fellowship for research in the Czech Republic and last wrote on the debate over the ownership of the Drohobych murals of Bruno Schulz (The Ukrainian Weekly, July 22, 2001).

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