PALIANYTSIA 2022
PALIANYTSIA 2022
Operating on an equally collective level, Kadyrova’s Refugees engages with and addresses a wider Ukrainian community. Unlike her earlier works, Refugees incorporates living witnesses. In this project, Kadyrova rescued plants from destroyed public infrastructure across Ukraine, including libraries, hospitals, and schools. These plants, conceptualized as “refugees,” are literally uprooted from disaster zones to seek shelter abroad. Traveling with the artist from country to country, the plants undergo a process of healing while testifying to their own survival. There are many who are lost and more who we are losing every day.
This work serves as a poignant metaphor for displacement and endurance.The project expanded into a series of lightboxes, ranging in scale from small to monumental, featuring photographs that Kadyrova took while rescuing the plants.By presenting these images in lightboxes, she consciously positions her practice within the Western art-historical continuum, referencing both the tradition of still-life painting and contemporary photographic techniques.This dual gesture underscores the interplay between established art-historical narratives and the urgent realities of conflict.
BOHDANIVKA, KYIV OBLAST
I am from the village of Bohdanivka. It is located 20 kilometers from Kyiv. Before Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, I worked at a local school. On March 8, 2022, a column of Russian tanks passed through Bohdanivka. They went on towards Kyiv, but our troops pushed them back, and the Russians returned to Bohdanivka. We found ourselves under occupation and on the front line.
It was a terrible time. The Russians set up their headquarters and hospital in our school. Meanwhile, in the village, soldiers moved into empty houses, looted them, and carried out a so-called “cleansing” ofthe village.
They killed men suspected of having ties to the Ukrainian army and raped women. On March 30, the Russians suddenly beganto retreat and left the town. As they were leaving, they blew up and burned down the school. I was there at that moment. There was an explosion and everything was covered in smoke. I and a few others miraculously survived. But most of the locals who were in the school were killed. The remains of my colleague were next to me for a long time.
The survivors stayed in the building among the ruins. Not until October 18, 2022, six months later, did a woman come and evacuate us to her house in Kyiv, where there were IDPs from other regions who had survived the fighting.
Zhanna Kadyrova, Refugees, 2023. Still Joy — From Ukraine Into The World / Biennale Arte 2026. PinchukArtCentre. © Photo OKNO Studio
KURYLIVKA, KHARKIV OBLAST
We are from Kurylivka, a small village in the Kharkiv region, in the eastern part of Ukraine. Before the full-scale war with Russia, we worked in the local hospital. The Russians captured Kurylivka three days after the invasion, on February 27, 2022.
We lived in the hospital throughout the occupation. In September, our military launched a counteroffensive. During the battles for Kurylivka, the hospital building was damaged. One day, part of the wall and roof collapsed, and all the windows were smashed. At the time of the shelling, we were inside. Shells were whistling and explosions were heard. Glass and debris were falling on us, we were scattered around the rooms by the blast wave. We thought it was thelast day of our lives. Many were injured, but almost all survived.
On October 1, our military liberated Kurylivka. A few weeks later, a woman from Kyiv came to our building, said hello, took pictures of the damaged offices, and decided to evacuate us. Everything happened quickly. We were placed in a cramped bus on top of each other. We traveled without water for almost seven hours. We arrived in Kyiv 45 minutes before the curfew. We crossed the checkpoint without waiting in line.
We were left to spend the night in the bus. We slept well—being very
tired. Some of us were very cold in the morning. The next day we were placed in the yard of a house. Some man gave us water. It was warm, and we rested, finally being safe. However, we heard the sounds of a siren and several explosions in the distance, but we did not pay attention. We were promised more comfortable accommodations in a house. Initially, we had no other options.
Zhanna Kadyrova, Refugees, 2023. Exhibition "Art after 2000. Glossary", 2025.
KHERSON
We are from Kherson, a regional hub in the south of Ukraine. We used
to work in a library named after the Ukrainian writer Oles Honchar. It is a beautiful multi-story building on the banks of the Dnipro River, built in a modernist style. On March 2, 2022, the Russians occupied our city. They set up an occupation administration, coerced local residents to cooperate, and imprisoned and tortured those who were pro-Ukraine. Eight months later, the Russians retreated to the opposite bank of the Dnipro River and our military liberated Kherson. Before fleeing, the Russian military looted the library’s storage and stole antique books.
Unfortunately, the library building was located in a dangerous place—on the banks of the river, across from where the Russians were based.
A week later, on November 19, two powerful explosions occurred near the library. The blast wave blew out our windows, shattered the ceiling, and scattered furniture across the premises. Many of our employees were injured. There was no heating in the building for a long time, and many of us suffered from the cold.
On December 23, a woman from Kyiv came to the building and evacuated some of us. There was only enough space in the bus for seven of us.
On November 12, 2023, on the anniversary of the liberation of
Kherson, the Russians fired a rocket at the library. The building was
severely damaged. Inside, a raging fire broke out. Most likely, many
of our colleagues were killed and wounded, but we do not know for
sure what happened to them.
Zhanna Kadyrova, Refugees, 2023. Exhibition 𝗔𝗪𝗨𝗟𝗦𝗝𝗔, Galeria Arsenał, Białystok, 2025.
ALL OF US
In early 2023, all of us—refugees from Kurylivka, Bohdanivka, Kherson, and Kharkiv—decided to flee the war and set off for Germany. We were promised shelter in Hanover. We crossed the border secretly. We got into a big truck and hid behind some boxes. The huge vehicle was filled with them. Before we got in, we were warned that it would be warm in the truck, but there would be no
light or water. That's how it was. Crossing the border took three days. We would stand still for a long time, and then slowly move a few meters. According to the transport documents, there were no living beings in the lorry, and the border guards did not notice us.
We lived in Hanover for about three months at the local Kunstverein Hannover. When the agreed period of our stay expired, we had to return to Kyiv. Not all of us returned home. Unfortunately, two of us were unable to survive the journey and hardships and fell ill and died.
We did not stay long in Kyiv, finding another opportunity to leave for safety in Germany, this time for Munich. Because of the constant movement, many of us fell ill, and in this condition we were not allowed to enter the Schengen area. However, false documents were drawn up for us. They were issued to individuals who had been examined by a specialist shortly before departure and had received all the necessary permits. After the checkpoint, the truck they were in drove up to the border, where they got out and we took their places. Fortunately, the border guards did not notice the change and let the vehicle through.
In Munich, the Munich Documentation Center for the History of National Socialism gave us shelter. We worked there, and in return we were given water and were not thrown out into the cold. Then we went to Prague, where we initially lived in a cold room unsuitable as living quarters.
Many of us fell ill and were generally in a poor state after the move. In January 2024, we moved to the Galerie Rudolfinum, located in a large palace where the first Czech president, Tomáš Masaryk, once worked. We were allowed to live in the room where his office had been located. Later, we returned to Kyiv again.
In November 2025, some of us decided to leave Ukraine again and went to Poland. We were lucky because a Lithuanian diplomat unexpectedly helped us cross the border and drove us in his car. Unfortunately, not everyone made it here. It was difficult to leave our loved ones and friends in danger, but we were so tired of the constant threat that we decided to take the youngest ones with us. We settled in Białystok for two and a half months, in the spacious hall of the Arsenal Gallery power station.
The rest of us remain in Kyiv, which has recently been under frequent attack. The city is constantly experiencing power cuts, and our loved ones risk being left without heating in winter. But they categorically refused to leave because they are tired of being strangers that nobody needs. This winter will be hard. We hope that everyone will survive and that we will meet again in a peaceful—and victorious—country.
Hanover Kunstverein, Hanover, Germany