From Tradition to Resistance: Ukrainian Pysanky as Symbols of National Survival

Visitors to the Ukrainian Institute of America have a remarkable opportunity to bear witness to a poignant example of art as a tool for resistance, a feat that carries significant weight in the more than two years since Russian President Vladimir Putin ordered a full-scale invasion of Ukraine. The war that erupted in the wake of this decision has resulted in the largest humanitarian crisis the European continent has seen in decades and naturally, much news coverage has focused on consequences and casualties.

If that sounds depressing, you’re far from alone but to experience The Pysanka: A Symbol of Hope, the brainchild of ethnographer and folk artist Sofika Zielyk, is to encounter a profound reminder of resilience, cultural preservation, and the power of art to uplift in times of hardship. 

Sofika Zielyk

The Ukrainian Easter egg, known as the pysanka (derived from the word “pysaty,” meaning “to write”), originally symbolized the rebirth of nature after a long winter, with the yolk serving as the visual representation of the sun. Zielyk adopted the pysanka as a powerful emblem of defiance against Russian aggression but this time for a rebirth of a nation after war. She issued an open invitation on social media, encouraging individuals of all ages and walks of life—whether seasoned artists or novices, Ukrainians or supporters from other nations—to craft pysanky using time-honored patterns and methods. These handmade pieces were then gathered at the Institute to form a unified exhibit and installation.

“There's a legend that says as long as people are creating these eggs, the world will continue to exist. And I thought this will be my answer to the aggressor, that we will continue to exist,” she told me one afternoon as I marveled at the exhibition before me, the eggs awash in different colors and composed in different patterns.

In a physical sense, the installation tells another, equally fascinating story. Pysanky are scattered unpredictably across a large burlap cloth, highlighting their profound link to the earth. The decision to showcase the pysanky in this way was made in the interest of ensuring no single artist or individual egg stands out, each one a proud member of a collective vision for Ukraine’s freedom and national healing. 

The embroidered rushnyk, or ritual cloth, which is showcased in one section of the exhibit, was historically employed as protection from evil. Additionally, green barvinok, or periwinkle, represents eternal life, while kalyna, or guelder rose, and its red berries symbolize beauty. pshenytsya, or wheat stalks, are a potent reminder of Ukraine’s position as the breadbasket of Europe. Rounding this out is a candle wrapped in a black ribbon that honors the lives of those, members of the military and civilians alike, who’ve been lost in the war.

The installation showcases kalyna (guelder rose), pshenytsya (wheat) and barvinok (periwinkle), all of which bear symbolic significance.

“One day these eggs will come home to Ukraine. In a tribute to the ancestors, the pysanky will be used in the same rituals that our ancestors once engaged in: they will be put in animal feed for healthier cattle, placed in the four corners of a home being rebuilt against evil, and buried in the ground for better harvest,” she told me. “Centuries ago, when a child died during the spring season, a pysanka would be put in the coffin so a child would have something to play with in the afterlife. Pysanka will be placed on the graves of the children that have perished in the war.”

The installation room in 2022.

The following transcript allows readers to hear from the artist herself, just as I did that day at the Ukrainian Institute. It has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Sofika Zielyk: I am a first-generation American. My mother came to the US in 1949 as my father did, as children fleeing the Nazis and the Communists. They were refugees. In time, refugees who immigrated created a “Little Ukraine" in the East Village of Manhattan. My first language was Ukrainian, and I went to Ukrainian singing camps, danced Ukrainian dance lessons, did Ukrainian scouts, and so much more.

Alan Herrera: So you were very involved in the culture.

SZ: Absolutely, while also being an American at the same time. And then fast forward many, many, many years to 2022. Russia invaded Ukraine. Eventually my shock and sorrow turned into anger and I felt a physical need to do something. I'm an ethnographer and folk artist specializing in pysanky, which is the plural of “pysanka,” the Ukrainian Easter egg. That’s when I remembered the legend that if people continue to create pysanky the world will continue to exist. This installation was my answer to the aggressor. I could have easily brought in 300 of my pysanky, and nicely displayed them but I wanted this to be a communal, traditional, primeval project. 

The first three eggs came from Quebec, Canada.

My partners became the World Federation of Ukrainian Women's Organizations (WFUWO) and the Ukrainian Institute of America. I put out a message on social media to anybody and everybody, Ukrainian, non-Ukrainian, child, artist, whoever, to send in their traditionally decorated pysanky and join in the symbolic way to defeat the enemy and to ensure the world would continue to exist. Within a week, three pysanky arrived from Quebec, Canada. Pysanky donations continue to arrive and we now have approximately 1,000 decorated eggs in the installation from 18 countries around the world.

The installation has grown to feature approximately 1,000 pysanky—and it continues to grow.

AH: And this tradition goes back thousands of years?

SZ: Yes, centuries. Ethnographers don’t know when exactly the pysanka tradition was born but they agree that it was in pagan times, when our ancestors believed in many gods. When Christianity was adopted in the 10th century, the Church went to war with pagan traditions but belief in many gods was so rooted in people’s memories that it could not be extinguished. Eventually the pre-Christian and Christian traditions merged and instead of the pysanka being a symbol of the rebirth of nature, it became a symbol of Christ’s resurrection from the dead. 

Centuries ago, only women were allowed to create pysanky and they did so in the dead of night so that nobody would cast an evil eye on their symbolic design and then the sun god wouldn’t grant them their wish. If women depicted a pine branch, they were asking for health. A deer symbolizes strength and prosperity. Birds were symbols of happiness and springtime. The meander is one of my favorite designs. All the lines are connected; there’s no beginning and no end. It symbolizes eternity. Legend has it that if an evil spirit enters your home, he’ll become trapped in these lines. But it’s eternal, there’s no end—he won’t bother you. These were good luck charms.

AH: When I met [Ukrainian Institute President Kathy L. Nalywajko], she gave me some insight into this and recommended I speak to you. She estimated [the number of eggs] was anywhere between 900 and 1,000, which doesn’t seem to be the case at first glance. But that’s because they’re all buried, right?

SZ: The eggs are placed in layers upon layers. The installation changes every day as more pysanky arrive. We’ve had VIP visitors come. Hillary Clinton came and placed an egg in the installation and so did Antony Blinken. Peter Gelb, who is the manager of the Metropolitan Opera, the curator of the Frick Collection, Ukrainian dignitaries. Even the Foreign Minister of Guatemala came and said that his country decorates eggs but in a different style. They are called cascarones. Children put confetti inside these decorated eggs and break them at Easter time. Two weeks later, the installation was honored to receive 50 cascarones. The Foreign Minister of Estonia brought in an Estonian egg as did the The First Lady of Estonia.

This pysanka was placed in the exhibit by the First Lady of Estonia.

All the pysanky in the installation will travel to Ukraine after the country’s victory for the symbolic purpose of the country’s rebirth. We will visit all the areas where atrocities happened and there we will bury the eggs in the ground, place them on the four corners of a house being rebuilt, and place an egg on childrens’ graves. 

Secretary of State Antony Blinken places a pysanka in the installation.

One of my favorite aspects of being the curator of this installation is reading the letters and notes we receive with each donation. Some notes say, “We’re hoping for peace so we depicted sunflowers.” Or, “My mother made this egg 60 years ago, she now has dementia and doesn’t realize what’s happening but I’m sure she would have wanted to donate this egg to the power of the installation.” There was also a woman who wrote she was in a deep depression but creating pysanky for this installation helped with her recovery. One of my favorite letters comes from a Polish woman whose grandmother came to the US in the early part of the 20th century. The grandmother became a social worker with Holocaust survivors. She was given a pysanka from a Ukrainian refugee during this time. The granddaughter donated the pysanka to our installation.

AH: Where did you learn to make pysanky?

SZ: My mother taught me. This tradition was passed down from mother to daughter through centuries. During the Soviet Union, pysanky creation was persecuted and in some parts of Ukraine this tradition was almost lost. But immigrants and refugees who settled in other parts of the world continued creating them as well as other types of Ukrainian folk art. After Ukraine’s re-independence in 1991, it was my honor to be asked as the first American of Ukrainian descent to have an exhibit of pysanky in Ukraine, thus bringing the tradition back to its original birthplace. Now it’s wonderful to see how the people of Ukraine have embraced this centuries-old custom.

AH: It’s interesting, looking at this. My mother hails from the Dominican Republic, which has been subject to multiple fascist regimes, most notably under [Rafael Leónidas Trujillo]. I have family members, ancestors, who were killed under these dictatorships. Following Trujillo’s assassination, there was a civil war. I grew up hearing so many stories about these dictatorships and the civil war, how they destabilized the nation and forced it, multiple times, to reckon with its national identity.

SZ: So you understand.

AH: I do. Because of this history, I do feel a connection to the Ukrainian people but also others who’ve fled really frightening environments and been forever altered by humanitarian crises as well as the horrors of war.

SZ: Many of these eggs come from countries that were either part of the Soviet Bloc or the Soviet Union. They understand just like you understand. All of them have histories of revolution, of needing to escape from the claws of the oppressor. 

AH: Ultimately, would you say this installation ensures Ukraine's continued existence?

SZ:  Exactly. This installation of the pysanky tradition is a metaphor for the Ukrainian people themselves. They and the tradition have gone through wars, serfdom, famines, artificial famines, occupation by other countries, and yet have flourished in spite of all this. Ultimately, it shows the aggressor that we were here in the past, we are here now, and we will continue to be here.