Artists Against War: The Visual Language of War. An Interview with Sashko Danylenko

Svidomi in collaboration with Artists Against War, an online gallery of posters created to support Ukraine after the Russian full-scale invasion, tell the stories of the artists who help Ukraine by means of art. Read an interview with the illustrator, animator, and director Sashko Danylenko.

— What did you do before February 24?

— After a year of COVID and lockdowns, I didn't do much, and I can say that before February 24, I was mostly riding a bike and snowboarding. As it turned out later, it also was a good idea, because after the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I was able to immediately join the process with fresh energy, fresh vision, and without burnout.

I was mostly working on Ukrainian animation projects that required a lot of time and resources. After the beginning of the full-scale war, it was emotionally difficult to plan long-term projects, and there was so much going on that it was easier and more functional to switch to illustration. Something happens, and you can immediately draw it and post it.

— Did you think that there could be a full-scale invasion?

— I originally come from the east of Ukraine. There, people have such a mode of living that they have to abstract themselves from threats and not reflect upon them if they want to remain effective and keep moving. I live in the United States, and before the invasion, I was very worried about my family: they stayed at home till the very last moment. My relatives believed that if it happens, then it happens, but they tended to think that this was just sabre-rattling to show power, to hint someone about something, and to gain some better positions. There was no anticipation of such an escalation. Reality exceeded all expectations, in a bad way.

— Can you describe your day of February 24?

— When the invasion began, most people in Ukraine were asleep. Because of the time difference, it was daytime for me. I went snowboarding, and when I came back home, there was Putin's speech broadcast, and massive missile attacks began. Some people from the city where I was born and where my parents lived immediately wrote that there was a missile attack on a military facility. I was shocked: I came back from the slopes to find out this news.

— Before February, you had few posts on your Instagram. Why have you decided to go back to creative blogging so abruptly? Was it a need to express yourself, or a desire to do something useful?

— First thing, there were a lot of emotions to process. If reduced to some selfish residue, it's just therapy. Someone does the dishes, someone goes for a walk with their dog; I converted my anger and fury into creativity.

Second thing, I wanted to talk about Ukraine. I have been living in the USA for a long time, and I also think from the perspective of how people perceive our country, and what clichés need to be brought down. Ukrainian topics have attracted a lot of attention, and it was necessary to somehow respond to this demand. A lot of people from other countries wrote to me, even those seemingly affected by Russian propaganda. There was a need to explain to them what was really happening.

As it turned out, I know a lot of people in the creative and media spheres. I started to connect them according to their needs. For instance, some media moved from the TV format to Telegram: they need to get an avatar and a new identity. So I was looking for someone who could create it.

Another thing we did was developing the TacticMedAid application. Now, there already is an application in both the App Store and the Play Market. There had been a printed version and a guideline on how to provide first aid for injuries and other emergencies during the war. But there was no Ukrainian-language platform that would collect all the tips in a simple way so that a person with no medical education could understand how to save someone's life or limb by navigating a chatbot or through images. We had to create illustrations for this amount of data, and we did this together with a team of IT professionals from Kyiv.

— Describe your creative process — not for projects, but just for illustrations that you wanted to draw?

— During the first weeks of the invasion, at home I had the TV on with the news, all the time. When I listen to something, I want to draw, just to keep my hands working. This is how I perceived the content: I listened to podcasts, news, I monitored the events happening in Ukraine, I talked to my friends and relatives, and at that time I was drawing. The stories just kept coming. These were mostly memes or images of people I admired — this is how I came up with the series about superheroes.

I also considered another point of view: whether the topic is in line with my style. There are great illustrators who can draw families of dead people or heroic deeds of Azovstal defenders. If I plunge into these topics with my own style, I will feel that I am underworking or not getting enough balance. I am afraid that it will look like a caricature. But the stories that inspire, the stories where people demonstrate the abilities they did not expect to be capable of, are more in my style.

— How do people from other countries react to your work?

— I got a lot of support. Americans have a certain culture of perceiving the news. It reminds me of the way our grandparents were reading newspapers, finding out the details. We know what is going on in Ukraine, and a few more loud pieces of news; people in the States are more engaged, they know what is going on in other countries of the world: what the problems in Africa are, what is happening in Australia, how the elections in India are going, etc. Those people whom I have met followed the news in detail. People used Ukrainian memes, they knew in which direction Bakhmut is located, and that Saltivka is a residential area in Kharkiv.

— Emotions are not as wild now as at the beginning of the invasion. How does the ninth month of the full-scale war affect your creativity?

— I wouldn't say they are not as wild. They are just a bit different. Already somewhen in May, I started to realise that the war will not end soon, and I must do everything in the long term. Psychologically, practically, and logistically, it is necessary to put ourselves on such a footing that can allow us to have a long ride. In the long run, people should get compensated for what they were initially willing to do, driven by some force and impulse. At the beginning of the invasion, I was selling T-shirts with my prints, donating 100% to the needs of Ukraine. Of course, there were some production costs, but I couldn’t simply be using such a business model for a long time. To help a little but constantly, I started a store, and now I donate 30% of my profit. 

— You have a series of images about the creative forces of Ukraine. In your opinion, what is the role of art in a war?

— I think this role is very important. A lot of people follow events through the screens — through the small windows in their hands: a phone, a tablet, a laptop. I consider it to be another frontline in the fight against Russian propaganda and the so-called Russian culture that at one time had great resources. Now, we can see how memes can destroy all these images created by Russians. One person with a good idea and taste, who created a meme, can stand up to bot farms and copywriters from Russian TV who are trying to create their own image and some sort of media sensation. This frontline runs through many other countries and people who “haven’t decided yet”. The struggle for these people still continues, because the ones who already understand who the enemy is and what should be done perceive these materials as additional support or entertainment.

The very fact that you are interviewing me also partly answers the question of the importance of art. It is being discussed, therefore it touches you. And I want to put my little brick (in the form of a pixel) into the image of Ukraine rebuilt.