Mirroring Who We Are
March 19, 2026
Host: Andrew Kushnir
Guests: Edward Burtynsky and Maxim Dondyuk
THE SETTING
It was a buzzy reception.
[sound of gallery opening crowd buzz]
And it made the photographs lining the walls seem eerily quiet.
The opening night of Maxim Dondyuk’s White Series in Toronto rightfully celebrated a photographer who has put his body, and his camera, onto the frontlines of this war.
The White Series features photos of eastern Ukraine in wintertime: unharvested sunflower fields, a bombed-out tank abandoned in a leafless forest, a Soviet war monument pockmarked by more recent artillery fire. They sound so depressing as I describe them, but these photos don’t bring you down. They pull you in. All of these ravaged relics of war, captured by Maxim under a dusting of undisturbed snow, gazing back at us Torontonians that night… with our glasses of white wine in hand and a comforting distance.
[MUSIC]
INTRODUCTION
You’re listening to Kultura Rising. And I’m Andrew Kushnir.
When I came back to the gallery a few days later, it was now empty – outside of me, Maxim and preeminent contemporary photographer Edward Burtynsky – who had brought Maxim’s work to Canada. With only the three of us in the room, the White Series photographs felt altogether different. They weren’t subdued or shy anymore.
Not to me, at least. In fact, each photo felt pretty insistent. Demanding even. Testifying to something unbearably loud that had happened in wartime.
And then, maybe the thing I heard most clearly from these photographs: a longing for people to lovingly come back. To replant the trees. To repair or make this a place for peaceful human existence again.
[CLIP OF MAXIM DONDYUK SPEAKING]
I just don’t want to like make a picture where you just see immediately what happened, it’s so easy and so simple. And I believe that people are smart and I want to just give them a chance to just start thinking and feeling, also it’s about feeling…
[ANDREW CONTINUES]
I don’t know who I was expecting Maxim to be, the photographer behind this work. Someone hard. As battle worn as his landscapes, right?
I had read the 2023 piece for The New Yorker that Maxim had collaborated on. He got in trouble for that one, having represented too truthfully, too starkly, the state of Ukraine’s infantry on the eastern front line. He’s the photographer who, for that magazine, took a close-up shot of two hands, one cradling the other. Out of context, you’d think they were the resting hands of a farmer. The soil so deeply melded, so permanently baked into the skin. But these are the hands of a soldier who spends day in and day out in modern trench warfare. The dirt is so integrated into these hands that you wouldn’t be able to differentiate between the land or the human – even if you tried.
Photographer Ed Burtynsky has this to say as he looks upon Maxim’s photos:
[CLIP OF ED BURTYNSKY SPEAKING]
Here, this is a weapon of death and destruction, now been destroyed in the war and it’s sitting in this forest, but the forest has also been destroyed. So, nature suffers. And it’s just like, that’s the theatre of war, it’s the forest and nature, and you see that it is hurting and it’s in pain as well. It just leaves a path of sorrow. But again, knowing what we do know…
[ANDREW CONTINUES]
This blurred line between land and people is at the heart of Edward Burtynsky’s work too. Arguably Canada’s most successful and recognizable contemporary photographer – I’ve been a fan of his for a very, very, very long time – Edward’s work asks us to feel into what he calls “the other side of our lives.” Where our lithium batteries come from, our potash and coal, the energy that makes our world – what makes our modern comforts and conveniences – possible.
And what the cost of that looks like on the face of our planet.
Both Ed and Maxim dare to put edges on the edgeless so that we can turn towards the things that scare us rather than pretend they’re not happening, rather than being utterly overwhelmed by them. The monolith of the climate catastrophe. The monolith of war. What we can’t bear to look at. Until someone helps us look.
When I met Maxim for the first time – in his tan-coloured linen and sporting a long beard – I really couldn’t square his gentleness and his easy smile with what he has seen through his camera. He laughed about how at the nearby grocery store in Toronto, some brand of buckwheat went by the name of Kasha (the Ukrainian word for buckwheat) – and so he felt that in Canada, Ukraine was all around us.
And when I catch Ed looking at Maxim, it’s so clear that he’s found a kindred spirit. Two men who can’t stop themselves from taking photographs. These kinds of photographs. And to tell the truth as they see it. Not the kinds of images we can swipe through easily in our newsfeeds. The kind that ask us to slow down, listen, and to formulate – if only in our hearts – a response.
This is photographers Maxim Dondyuk and Ed Burtynsky. I interviewed them in Ed’s office in Toronto.
THE CONVERSATION
ANDREW KUSHNIR: I didn’t realize that there was so much color in these photos until I took the time to be with them. And was that your intention, Maxim, to, you know, it’s called the White Series? Is that mischievous?
MAXIM DONDYUK: It’s white color, for me it’s about emptiness. And I just, when I started to work on this series I was just traumatized after war and feel a lot of emptiness and sadness inside of me. So, it’s like landscape story but it’s also like portrait story about what people feel inside. And white, for me it was so important because for me it’s like emptiness and beginning something new.
ANDREW: I feel the beginning in it, and it sometimes felt like we were part of that beginning, that you are inviting us to not forget, or not, miss out, on these parts of Ukraina, on these parts of Ukraine, that perhaps feel abandoned, or perhaps feel so damaged, that they can never be returned to. So, I felt you were building a bridge for us, as the viewer. Um. I want to ask you both how you met?
ED BURTYNSKY: I was doing some work and fundraising for the Ukrainian war, and I was doing some writing, and I wrote a piece for the Maclean’s magazine, which, by the way, got me barred from going back to Russia. So, I was on the no go list to Russia, which I was fine with.
ANDREW: Right.
ED: But then the thing I really wanted to do was to find an artist working with photography. Immediately Maxim’s work just jumped out at me. And I think it was the White Series that really got me excited as well. And then, you know, we did end up collaborating at Babyn Yar and he did some work for me there. There’s a synagogue that was built there as a representation for the loss of the Jewish life that happened in the Holocaust and how, how Ukraine and how, Babyn Yar was the place of the scene of the crime.
ANDREW: Babyn Yar was a ravine, right?
MAXIM: It’s in Kyiv, where like Nazis killed a lot of Jewish people and it’s like a lot of trees and valleys really, so it’s like, so yeah, big place and now it’s like nature park.
ANDREW: Yeah, I’ve done a tour of it. I did a tour of Babyn Yar in 2019, and if you didn’t know what had happened there, you would think, ‘Oh, I’m in a park, it’s just a city park’
MAXIM: Yeah, just park.
ANDREW: And so, you collaborated on photos.
ED: Yes, that were shown at the Koffler Centre. And so they asked me to go and the war had just started and it was inconvenient and I didn’t have a big timeline. So, then I reached out to Maxim and only to realize that he was working with the same camera that I’m working with. You know, this camera, it’s a Fuji camera. And then,
ANDREW: Is that unlikely?
ED: Well, not a lot of people have adopted it.
MAXIM: Like just for me, I just all the time work with before 35 millimeters camera but when I start working with more landscape, and people see that I work with 35 millimeter like this middle format and then they said you should buy a camera, and I said it’s so expensive. I even don’t know about Fuji, and after somebody recommend me and accidentally, yeah, I just like start working with this camera when Ed called me. And I say I have this similar camera, like yeah.
ANDREW: It’s a sign!
ED: So then, so then I, you know, I went and I said, could, instead of commissioning me, why, can we commission Maxim? And then he started going through and he did pictures with his iPhone and had a whole path and where he took all the pictures. And I looked at them and then, you know, and then in a way, we were collaborating and that Maxim was, like, working with me to be an extension of what I think I would do if I was there.
ANDREW: So this is happening in real time, or is Maxim showing you proofs.
ED: This is in real time. So, he’s showing me the same, he’s there, he’s showing me stuff, I’m saying go back and shoot more of this. And so I’m directing and trying to get him to the place where I think, is how to represent this sadness. And, again, the same kind of, so we’re looking for snow and the same kind of ideas we did, we had a little bit of snow, but, but we were looking at the same idea of kind of going to the scene of the crime, but after it happened, right? It’s kind of, how do you make that space speak to this atrocity that occurred. So when I saw Maxim’s work, I thought, he would be the perfect collaborator to be there on the scene and to be kind of the extension of what I was trying to do, what I would have probably done, had I been there.
ANDREW: Right. When you look at the results of the Babyn Yar collaboration, how do you see, Maxim, your work different than what it might have been, and I suppose Ed, how did you see your work different than it might have been?
ED: Well, for me, it, well, felt completely in keeping with my sense of sentiment as is the White Series here., And that was one of the things. I think, I saw in Maxim, was that, you know, it’s a more thoughtful and I said, implicit and inward, you know, arriving at the subject through your heart and through feeling versus like an intellectualization of it. You know, you want to make that person engage with that subject and it’s only upon reflection does the kind of, you know, reality emerge of what it is and there is suffering and there is tragedy in the reality.
ANDREW: And Maxim, how about for you? How did this collaboration impact your perspective or your practice?
MAXIM: When Ed called to me or write to me during war, I was so surprised because I just like, ‘oh great’ yeah, and it was so and it’s like means a lot for me because I just realized that what I’m doing, more poetic, more think, somebody notice it and it’s so important. And when we start to work with Babyn Yar, for me it was not so hard because when we talk about photography, how I should make photography, for me it was the same things that, it was like, was like someone with more experience, but with the same thinking about photography and feeling. And I continue doing this White Series because at the beginning, before in 35mm, and this is like this middle format, it’s in much more deep and different and also about quality with this panorama. You can see this big size, and you can just go in and see all these tree branches, tanks, all the things, and see all detail, you just feel this, I don’t know, emptiness So it’s like no people, no action because it’s all the emptiness.
ANDREW: Yeah, that’s something that somebody said to me, next to me on Wednesday night. They said, ‘look at all of this painful detail,’ they said ‘painful detail.’ And I’m struck, you know, Ed in your work, you know, be it manufacturing landscapes, all these sort of extraordinary images of human impact on our planet, what resource extraction looks like, what it takes to power our phones and warm our homes, I’m just, I’m struck by this notion of truth. And do you ever look at your photos respectively, and you go, wow, there’s maybe too much truth here, this is overwhelming.
ED: There are certain qualities that I look for in my work and one is what creates a visually compelling image. And it’s not necessarily in search of beauty, it’s in search of archetypes in a way that capture our imagination. If you just show the explicit, a dead soldier blown apart, and you go, oh my God, I can’t look, you avert your eyes, but what has that done? You’ve gone, it’s sensational, and it’s terrible, and it’s, and of course we wouldn’t want to see anybody that we know, have that done to them, and so there is a kind of an empathy, but, but it’s, it’s almost pornography, it’s too much, you know, it’s just like, it doesn’t help us, you know, there’s no subtlety to it.
ANDREW: Yeah, you don’t refer to it as a… you’re not trying to confront us. It seems the word is meditation. You want us to meditate on war. What does that mean to you?
MAXIM: I think the whole art contain a feeling, like if we talk about music or poem or a good movie, it’s about a feeling. It’s not a lot of information. Sometimes, it’s more about feeling, reflection. And I think it’s so important in photography just try to put all this emotion because I think artists should criticize some problems, speak about serious questions, but people so lazy, don’t want to just see some problem or something like this, so sometimes we use this trick, making like beauty picture using this other language, visual language. And people just see, ‘oh, it’s nice,’ and when they go in closer and closer they start to realize about what happens here.
ANDREW: Yeah. It’s not just about meditation, it’s about taking that time and slowing down to be with the image. But I also hear the word ‘rumination.’ What is it to get people to actually think after they’ve felt something? And to walk away from the space, you said some folks said ‘haunting,’ right?
The images are haunting. What is to be haunted? It’s to carry beyond a space, a feeling, a question, a desire to know more. I think that’s very, when I think of the kinship, what both of your bodies of work do to me, I think of that – that I keep thinking about and I keep feeling about what I’ve seen beyond being in front of the photo.
I want to ask you about your beginnings. So Ed, when were you born?
ED: When was I born born?
ANDREW: As a photographer.
ED: As a photographer. Well, I think my first moment with camera in hand and taking pictures of the world that I was 11, but then I don’t think I really hit my stride as a photographer until I kind of started hitting my first and second years of university. I was already starting to find where I was going with it, so that would have been like 1976, ’77, ’78, so I was already kind of moving towards this idea that… you know, I was raised, Ukrainian, Ukrainian Catholic, and then, at 12 or 13, like happens to a lot of kids, I kind of started to move away from religion. I was a little disillusioned with it, and I was thinking, starting to have my own critical thinking around it. And I also believed, inertly inside, I felt that as I moved away from religion – because I was like an altar boy, I was like seriously into religion – then as I moved away from it, I still was in search of meaning, something to describe how to describe the crazy world that I’m living in and the cyclical things that I see, and, you know, where do you find meaning in all of that. And you know, my father died when I was young, so he was already, you know, full of cancer when he was 40, so at 10, he was already diagnosed, and by the time I was 15, he had died and I became the eldest, male in the family. But in all that, I was always having to be self-reliant. I always had jobs. I always made my own money, I always, but photography was always this thing. And also, my father came from an artisanal town outside of Lviv, a town called Kosiv, and they all were artisans. And I think his family, they painted ceramics and fired ceramics for backsplashes for kitchens and things like that, so it was all hand-painting. And so, he was a painter, and so that kind of creative, need to create was somehow in my DNA. And so even at 15, I said I just want to be an artist, I just want to make things. I feel alive when I’m bringing things into the world. And if I stop doing it, I feel like I just wither, I’m just somehow disappearing and life becomes meaningless. So, it’s in me, I have no choice but to make things or wither.
ANDREW: Mm-hm.
And so that drive… and then I also felt, as an artist, is there life after death or not? And that was always a question as a kid. You know, is this all for not, then you’ll die and then it all goes black. But I thought, well, the only way, you have any kind of way to kind of carry on is the marks you leave behind in your life. That is your immortality. That leaving marks and leaving interesting marks is a way to kind of defy death. And I had to, I was having those thoughts when I was like 15 and 16. So I always just wanted to be an artist. So everything went to that direction.
ANDREW: Maxim, when did you get your start in photography?
MAXIM: But it’s like, because I just like started making a picture when I was a child because my parents, I just remember they just present me a camera when I was six. But when collapse of Soviet Union, I stopped taking any pictures because it was a different problem, I couldn’t find negatives or something like this. And at 24 I returned to photography. And in beginning career until 2014, until revolution in Ukraine, I worked like documentary photographer and focusing for some social problem like classical documentary photographer. But in revolution, it’s something changed inside of me and I start to see reality in different way, more poetic. I just stop focusing about what was happening and just start thinking about different way of photography. And I just all the time care about, not what important, what touched me.
[MUSIC]
ANDREW: Ed, you’ve written about this publicly before, what your mother survived, the Holodomor. Nazi occupation. She was in fact enslaved and had to work in Germany, is that right? How did that show up in your upbringing?
ED: Well, she was a tough lady, she survived a lot. She took no prisoners. She was like, if I didn’t do something, or she was hard core, my father was really hard core. It was a very high discipline, consequential raising. And it wasn’t easy as a kid. You know, it wasn’t, there was no coddling to be had. I mean, I think we went the other extreme in the next generation overcoddled them, but we were maybe a little undercoddled.
ANDREW: Right. It’s a pendulum
ED: It’s a pendulum. But, but also, I saw my father, the kind of damages of war and he, I think, saw some fighting. And, you know, and he wasn’t, like a lot of those men, they, they carried those traumas with them. You know, and it showed up in, you know, the family and they weren’t always the best guys. They, they were damaged in many ways. And so, and he was also, I realized a frustrated artist. He was 16 and he was taken from an artisanal town where his whole future was already predetermined. And now he probably had to, you know, do things that he didn’t want to do when he was taken away from a life that he had and never to return home. And that’s not a unusual story, I don’t think, you know, of what happened after the Second World War.
ANDREW: War redirects life. And, you know it’s clear in my own upbringing that being Ukrainian Canadian is to be touched by war, to be Ukrainian is certainly to be touched by war. Some people say to be Ukrainian is war. That Ukrainians have become war by virtue of what these last few years have inflicted on us.
MAXIM: Ukrainian connection with war, like, 300 years, it’s all the time – we have neighborhood like Russia, even like Poland, and Lithuania, and Turkey – it’s all the time, like Ukrainian nation try to survive and try to resist another big country, which want to take some part of our land. The whole history, it’s like fighting, fighting and fighting, yeah.
ANDREW: I think that brings up some heartache for me. Your White Series makes me think this aggressor has come and fought for this land and put mines into the soil and destroyed the livelihoods of those who lived there. And now it’s virtually untouchable. I think of your Chornobyl series also.
MAXIM: My brother grew up one year after Chornobyl, and seven year be in the hospital. And my parents all the time say it’s because of him, because Chornobyl, because everything. I just live with this and after I decide, okay, maybe I need to go and see what is this place which not destroy my family but make a lot of problems to my family. And the same is the war. I’m not just choose to go somewhere, I’m just not war photographer. I just anti-war photographer, even if I just make something in the war because I never want to just go to another country and cover conflict. I just even don’t know what people think about this, why they going. And it’s happening in my city, like revolution, like war is destroying my land, it’s occupied my hometown. And I just, like, making a project which, it’s like object or situation touching me important and it’s just like screaming. I want to like spread my emotion. I want to share this emotion. I’m not going to psychologist or just talking someone ‘I care about this’ and I look in way of how I can just share all the things through photography.
ANDREW: Did I hear you correctly, did you say you’re an anti-war photographer?
MAXIM: Yeah, I just never just say that I’m war. I hate these things, like war photographers or just because I hate war, I just spend a lot of time in war, and I dream that all war just finish. And I want to just, people to hate war and not like it, not just, even in this white picture, just people see that what could happen with any country if we make war because in the end it’s everything destroyed.
[MUSIC]
ANDREW: Do both of you see your work as activist or is that something, is your work labeled as activist?
ED: Well, it’s not overtly activist. I mean, hopefully, in many ways, you know, we’ve now inherited a very polarized world… of left and right and rich and poor, those are religious and those are non-religious, and so we have these kinds of hardening camps in all those categories. And, uh, and for me, you know, I’m not trying to be an advocate for any individual camp of that kind of, you know, rich, poor, religious, non-religious or left or right. You know, that, to me, I, I’m interested in kind of, uh, making works that sit within a more, like I said, in within an archetypal space, within a central space where you can come from any of those directions, and look at it, and it works at, I believe, a human level, not necessarily a political level. And so, it’s in the world of a more philosophical, and that’s where I think the landscape is a neutral point. People say, ‘Why don’t you spend – as, as with Maxim’s – why don’t you spend more time focusing on the people?’ But the people are specific, and you can say, ‘Well, that’s not me. That’s another culture.’ But landscape, there’s our collective values. There’s a, a church. Well, people came together. Communities. They took the money that they made from their fields and bought the bricks and built the church because they believed in something. That bridge, they all took the taxes to build the bridge. So these are all things that we have built as, as a collective collaborative society working together to make things that benefit all of us. And when you destroy those things, there’s a more universal kind of story being told, you know, that it isn’t just one person who died, and you can empathize with that person and the family that had it, but, you know, it’s there. We get it. We understand it, but it, it leaves us kind of with nowhere to go. You know, it’s like, ‘Okay, I now absorbed it, and that’s a terrible thing.’
ANDREW: They contain the tragedy in a way and you can stand outside.
ED: Yeah. But here, it’s kind of like, ‘Well, what’s happened? And why did this happen? Who did this? And, and why was that church destroyed? You know, like, who’s benefit was that? And, you know, what, what was the aggression that made that happen? And so, I think, I think there’s a…hopefully in that kind of more universal storytelling that, you know, that you can do through the landscape, through that kind of image making, you know, if there are those who are able to kind of, you know, can you expand the tent so that they – that, you know, those who are, don’t believe, or you understand that this is something that we as humans share collectively, and that – can you expand the tent? Can you break down these, these kind of hardened positions and, they get people to understand, yeah, well then maybe there is something happening to the environment and to the climate. Yes, there is a lot of consequences to a war. And there’s a lot of pain and a hurt. And, and there’s a lot of things get destroyed, not just lives, but also the place where they derive their lives. You know, and so there – it opens more questions, more ways, more inflection points for conversations, for bringing us together versus things that push us apart.
ANDREW: It’s occurring to me. And I think this is a quote that I absorbed a long time ago and it’s, I think your quote, Ed, around wanting your work to be like a reflection pool.
ED: Yeah,
ANDREW: Is that right?
ED: Exactly. Yeah, so it’s a mirror images. It’s a mirroring who we are and where our collective values come together. And whether I’m looking at nature as the, you know, nature is suffering around the world based on human expansion, technology, and all of that. So, you know, there’s a war going on and nature is losing and we’re winning, right? And, you know, until we make a peace and let nature coexist with us, do we actually have a sustainable world? And until we find that peace, we’re at risk of destroying, you know, the world for future generations. That’s what we’re facing right now. We’re the only generation that ever faced that. and we know we’re facing that. So we’re now saying, what we do today, the future will look back at and say, what did you do when you knew that, that the planet was going over the top and was going to make life unsustainable or we can’t grow crops anymore or we can’t live here anymore. We can’t live in a desert now, or the floods are so bad that wipes us out every, you know, every so often and we can’t build because it’s too unstable. So, all those things are coming to us. And so, I’m trying to be there as a kind of sending signals out there saying, we need to understand that this is a very dangerous thing we’re doing, and we need to make peace, but to make peace with nature, we have to make peace with each other or the future is at risk.
ANDREW: Just want to ask you both and you can address this literally. I think there are literal answers to this, but also maybe philosophically. What makes your respective bodies of work the way you work, the way you see the world, fundamentally Ukrainian?
MAXIM: I think just all artists who are connected with their culture because when you live in some place, and when just like all your art, everything you do is so connected with this culture. And it’s like because you just cannot take yourself from this culture and say, ‘Oh, I just do something independent because I think like this.’ No, it’s a whole generation, whole Ukrainian history just inside of you and all your feelings about this, all your knowledge, all your society, just working with you, and you like just mirror all this history thing. Like, you just like not only try to make something, what you feel, it’s about many, many generations. And I think it’s really connection, and I think it’s really important because sometimes young artists go to America or France or Germany and forget about their culture and try to make something so important to a Parisian or to London or to New York and forgot about them because they want to make name or money or be famous, but they lose themselves. And you cannot follow this way because you feel nothing about maybe this culture, but you can say a lot and do a lot about your culture.
ANDREW: We come from somewhere.
MAXIM: Yeah.
ED: Exactly, yeah.
[MUSIC]
ED AND MAXIM’S CULTURAL RECOMMENDATIONS
ANDREW: As is my tradition, at the end of every interview, I ask my guests to recommend a piece of Ukrainian or Ukrainian Canadian art or an artist for us to seek out. Here’s what Ed and Maxim said:
ED: The one that I keep thinking of that came out of Canada, that I had a lot of affinity with is William Kurelek. And, if any Ukrainians haven’t seen his work, they should see his work. He created a series of paintings that, I think, really were his own way, and I think artists often do this. It is a form of taking your own trauma, and your own, you know, pain, and turning it to meaning, and finding ways in which other people can connect to it.
ANDREW: How about you Maxim?
MAXIM: Matvey Weisberg. He’s really great painter and he just work in this kind of abstraction themes and he make amazing work called The Wall, yeah. During the revolution he just go to Maidan and see everything that happened, and return to studio and make like kind of abstraction during like 10 minutes and after he just put the whole wall up. We were in London together in an exhibition, it’s like amazing. But he make a lot of good work.
ANDREW: That’s painters William Kurulek and Matvey Weisberg, as recommended by my guests today, Ed Burtynsky and Maxim Dondyuk.
[MUSIC]
CREDITS
Kultura Rising is written and hosted by yours truly Andrew Kushnir.
Alison Broverman is our senior producer.
Pippa Johnstone is our executive producer.
Mixing and sound design by Mark Angly.
Original music by Daughters of Donbas (feat. Marichka).
Podcast graphics by Nicholas Luchak.
This has been an original podcast from The Shevchenko Foundation, Canada’s premier, national, charitable foundation for Ukrainian Canadian arts, heritage and culture since 1963. Here’s a little bit more about it.
JEN BUDNEY: My name is Jen Budney, and I am Executive Director and CEO of the Ukrainian Museum of Canada in Saskatoon. The Shevchenko Foundation has been very important to us at the museum, less because of the scale and more because of alignment. What I value just as much as the financial support are the conversations I have with Shevchenko Foundation leadership and staff. The people at Shevchenko really are colleagues. They understand the pressures that cultural organizations are under, and they engage with the work that I do here in an intellectually generous way. My hope for Ukrainian culture in Canada is that it continues to be taken seriously. We’ve seen a much greater interest in Ukrainian culture, history, and Ukrainian heritage in Canada since the onset of Russia’s full-scale invasion. I hope that we continue to be seen as a culture and a community that can engage with the present and with complex issues and difficult questions. Ukrainian culture here has always evolved in conversation with our surroundings and with other cultural groups, and I hope that we keep leaning into that.
[MUSIC]
ANDREW
I hope you join us next time and that you’ll keep showing up on the cultural front.
Slava Ukraini!