In a quiet street in central Kyiv, the Khanenko Museum has reopened its doors to an exhibition that defies expectations. 'Africa Direct', a collection of over 40 works from 18 African countries, fills the space with objects and voices that challenge traditional narratives. Curated by Yulia Fil and Daria Sukhostavets, this exhibition is an experiment in intellectual realignment, a reflection on how museums can redefine their role in times of resistance.
As one steps into the gallery, the atmosphere is palpable, yet fragile. The exhibition is conceived as a sensuous engagement with African art and material culture – things made to be touched, carried, embraced. At its heart are magnificent ceramic vessels, crafted by women from Nigeria for funerary purposes, and an angel on an early 20th-century Christian Ethiopian healing scroll that stares with wide eyes, meant to protect the body and soul of whoever meets its gaze.
The show is not an easy or straightforward display. Instead, it privileges a nuanced exploration of African art and culture, one that refuses to be bound by traditional ethno graphic displays. The curator has chosen to resist the usual distance imposed by glass, placing the works on simple wooden boxes, an act of humility that suggests fragility and protection.
Anika Johnson's words at the opening resonated deeply – "We are both freedom fighters." It articulated a shared vocabulary of independence that connects two histories often seen as separate. Decolonising the museum means not only revising narratives of art and empire but addressing questions of racism and rethinking how knowledge itself is produced and shared.
However, this process unfolds against a backdrop of fragility and political tension. Relations between Ukraine and several African states are complex, especially where Russian influence is strong. Mali's military government abruptly cut diplomatic ties with Ukraine after accusing it of covert involvement in fighting in the north of the country – a claim denied by Kyiv but widely circulated in the media.
Despite this reality, 'Africa Direct' stands out as an autonomous gesture by art historians, scholars, and curators seeking a different, more reciprocal language of exchange. The staff, mostly in their 20s and 30s, many returned from abroad due to commitment to their institution, city, and purpose, see culture not as a luxury but a form of civic resilience and critical reflection.
The exhibition continues despite the sounds of bombardment – the alarms that sounded on the night after its opening, followed by messages flashing across phones: "Ballistic", "Take shelter". "Now it's drones." Then, hours later: "All clear." The city resumed its rhythm, yet culture continued in overlapping layers, as did life. Between darkness and daylight, between war and work, 'Africa Direct' insists on a principle that is neither tragic nor heroic but necessary – continuity, intelligence, and critical engagement with inherited narratives.
Until January 11th, 2026, the Khanenko Museum will remain open to this groundbreaking exhibition.
As one steps into the gallery, the atmosphere is palpable, yet fragile. The exhibition is conceived as a sensuous engagement with African art and material culture – things made to be touched, carried, embraced. At its heart are magnificent ceramic vessels, crafted by women from Nigeria for funerary purposes, and an angel on an early 20th-century Christian Ethiopian healing scroll that stares with wide eyes, meant to protect the body and soul of whoever meets its gaze.
The show is not an easy or straightforward display. Instead, it privileges a nuanced exploration of African art and culture, one that refuses to be bound by traditional ethno graphic displays. The curator has chosen to resist the usual distance imposed by glass, placing the works on simple wooden boxes, an act of humility that suggests fragility and protection.
Anika Johnson's words at the opening resonated deeply – "We are both freedom fighters." It articulated a shared vocabulary of independence that connects two histories often seen as separate. Decolonising the museum means not only revising narratives of art and empire but addressing questions of racism and rethinking how knowledge itself is produced and shared.
However, this process unfolds against a backdrop of fragility and political tension. Relations between Ukraine and several African states are complex, especially where Russian influence is strong. Mali's military government abruptly cut diplomatic ties with Ukraine after accusing it of covert involvement in fighting in the north of the country – a claim denied by Kyiv but widely circulated in the media.
Despite this reality, 'Africa Direct' stands out as an autonomous gesture by art historians, scholars, and curators seeking a different, more reciprocal language of exchange. The staff, mostly in their 20s and 30s, many returned from abroad due to commitment to their institution, city, and purpose, see culture not as a luxury but a form of civic resilience and critical reflection.
The exhibition continues despite the sounds of bombardment – the alarms that sounded on the night after its opening, followed by messages flashing across phones: "Ballistic", "Take shelter". "Now it's drones." Then, hours later: "All clear." The city resumed its rhythm, yet culture continued in overlapping layers, as did life. Between darkness and daylight, between war and work, 'Africa Direct' insists on a principle that is neither tragic nor heroic but necessary – continuity, intelligence, and critical engagement with inherited narratives.
Until January 11th, 2026, the Khanenko Museum will remain open to this groundbreaking exhibition.