Modern secularised society that has witnessed the world ‘being gradually uncharmed’ primarily perceives sacral architecture through its direct function ― realisation of the right to religious freedom, or as an example of historical and cultural heritage of a certain period. Such somewhat perfunctory and careless approach to the sacred was typical for historic landmark restoration in the Soviet Union, where the victory over religion was so obvious and final that there was no need to look beyond aesthetics in sacral architecture. That’s why modern replicas were in more demand than careful conservation and demonstration of findings. The Golden Gate of Kyiv with the remarkably grotesque church at the top of the construction is indicative of such approach.

An average person takes the monastery and way of living in it as something completely isolated from ordinary secular life, or even being secretive to some extent. However, the founding of monasteries and their development have a long and exciting history.

Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, a prominent master of modernist architecture, once said that architecture is the will of an epoch translated into space. What we call Cossack Baroque is in fact a local assimilation of a broader European cultural narrative in the ХVIІ-XVIII century. The diversity of local dialects within one architectural language is one of the key features of Baroque in general. As an architectural style, Cossack Baroque involved an immense variety of local contexts that existed in this cultural field at that period of time. Even today Baroque makes us overcome the dichotomy of high and low styles, as its full value should be appreciated through the categories of genuineness, authenticity, and distinctiveness.

Across the field which lies near my home, I walk the same road every day, but every day I come to a new place. Anna Yutchenko

In his essay "Migration, Tolerance and Intolerance", Umberto Eco proposes to distinguish between the concepts of "migration" and "immigration". Immigration is when a small group of people moves from one country to another. Accordingly, this phenomenon can be politically controlled, limited, stimulated, or taken for granted.

They once left Ukraine – on the eve of the First World War, between the wars or during the perestroika, but still call themselves Ukrainians. They took with them memories of mountains, Hutsul legends about forest spirits, their native language, and created their own Ukraine — somewhere overseas — as an alternative reality that might have existed in our country as well if we had not been in the arms of empires for a long time. However, history does not know a conditional mode, so now here in mainland Ukraine, we are trying to deal with the postcolonial consciousness and traumas of the Soviet past, and they, the Ukrainians of Canada, are proud of their national identity and research Ukrainian culture and history. Together with embroidered shirts and chests, they managed to take out a part of the Ukrainian soul and preserve it. A striking example is the preserved Ukrainian spelling of the 1920’s. However, they failed to completely isolate themselves from the cultural influences of another continent, so a strange surzhyk of Ukrainian and English languages was formed in Canada, and sometimes Canadian Ukrainian sounds exotic to us.

The biography of Moisei Ginzburg (1892–1946), one of the main theorists of Soviet constructivism, reveals some episodes related to the Crimea. Those remained on the margins despite the researchers’ thorough focus on the creative career of the architect. I am inviting the readers to cast a look at how Ginzburg tackled the Crimea issue, and to see whether the experience he gained during his stay on the peninsula influenced his growth as an architect.