“People are dying around me all the time. Overall I have a changeable mood. It’s not drawing...” This was one of the last messages that Ukrainian artist and anarchist David Chichkan, who had been fighting in the ranks of the Ukrainian army as a mortar operator since last year, sent to his good friend, critic Kostiantyn Doroshenko. On Sunday 10^th August, he fell on the Zaporizhzhia section of the front. He succumbed to injuries he suffered the day before whilst repelling an attack by Russian infantry. His funeral took place in Kyiv on Monday 18^th August.

David Chichkan (1986–2025) was remarkable amongst Ukrainian artists – and probably not only amongst them – for how he connected his political convictions with life practice and artistic activity. He created realistic drawings with symbolic and didactic content, which in their style were reminiscent of socialist realism, but simultaneously utilised approaches characteristic of surrealism and naive political art. According to Doroshenko, the artist was influenced by traditional Ukrainian folk icons. Chichkan himself spoke about trying to create a distinctive aesthetic of anarchism that would build upon the posters from the years of the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939).

Although Chichkan, like many other artists, had the opportunity to leave Ukraine and work abroad, he did not do so. He believed that resistance against Russian aggression, against imperialism and fascism, must be participated in on the spot.

As a result of dramatic developments in Ukraine, however, Chichkan increasingly devoted himself to “the reality of his society, his country and history,” as Doroshenko wrote in 2016. He addressed his works primarily to working people, but they were also successful amongst connoisseurs of contemporary art. He personally participated in various protests and engaged in trade union organisations. He always insisted that his exhibitions should be accessible free of charge. His last works were celebrations of Ukraine’s defenders, typically however those who are not talked about so much – for example Roma or anarchists.

“David didn’t like being called an artist,” Doroshenko told Kyiv Independent after his death. “He considered himself a ’drawer’. That’s how he defined his artistic activity, in which he saw only one of the ways of mediating social, emancipatory and anarchist ideas.” Kyiv Independent also quotes another of Chichkan’s friends, Vitaliy Dudin, a member of the Ukrainian leftist association Socialnyj ruch (Social Movement): “His views often seemed too radical for our society, which is heavily marked by individualistic and conservative ideas. His works were critical of the existing mainstream, he didn’t lack courage to speak out.”

“Wrong” for both nationalists and anarchists

Ukrainian far-right hated him and regularly attacked his exhibitions. They could not forgive him for reminding people of the socialist ideals of Ukrainian revivalists [1] and for understanding Maidan [2] as a “lost opportunity” to implement social changes.

In February 2017, a group of fifteen neo-Nazis attacked his exhibition called Lost Possibility (Vtrachena mozhlyvistʹ). The attackers first beat the guard and then destroyed most of the paintings (video here). Far-right blogger Viktorija Riznychenko wrote about Chichkan’s drawings at the time that it was “openly anti-Ukrainian propaganda, directed against patriotic forces that supported Maidan. And such has no place in the centre of Kyiv.”

It was not the last time. In February 2022, immediately before the start of the full-scale Russian invasion, a group of unknowns attacked his Lviv exhibition Ribbons and Triangles (Strychky i trykutnyky). In January 2024, the Odesa National Art Museum [3] cancelled Chichkan’s exhibition With Ribbons and Flags (Zi strychkamy i praporamy). The content of the exhibition was supposed to be portraits of Ukraine’s defenders, in which the artist, according to the exhibition annotation, “wanted to emphasise the difference between an army of free people with the most diverse views from the depersonalised mass of occupiers”. However, an online campaign arose against the exhibition, which recalled allegedly controversial themes of his older works.

“Chichkan is for me another example of a person whom certain people eternally accused of loving his land in the wrong way. Predominantly these were the same people who love it the right way, but have an exemption from mobilisation or live abroad,” Ukrainian writer Artem Chapaj wrote about him in his remembrance.

In summer 2018, Chichkan came on a residency stay to Prague’s MeetFactory. That’s when I also saw him in person for the first time. Many years later, in 2023, I corresponded with him because of a survey for the magazine Kontradikce on the topic of how the Russo-Ukrainian war influenced the anarchist movement. He concluded his answer with warning words: “If the global anarchist movement does not understand that bad democracies are better than fascist dictatorships, a dividing line will arise between those who defend freedom and those who are intoxicated by dogmas, because their ideological uncertainty is a manifestation of infantilism, just like their calls for Ukrainians to lay down arms or end the war.”

Although Chichkan, like many other artists, had the opportunity to leave Ukraine and work abroad, he did not do so. He believed that resistance against Russian aggression, against imperialism and fascism, must be participated in on the spot. He continued creating and as a volunteer helped soldiers on the front. He collaborated especially with those units where anarchists served, and also participated in the activities of the mutual aid organisation Kolektyvy solidarnosti [Solidarity Collectives].

He never lost faith in a better future. In an interview he gave at the beginning of 2024 to the French blog Entre les lignes entre les mots (English/ français), he said: “Ukraine is a modern national project that is essentially left-wing and anti-authoritarian. On Ukrainian banknotes are socialists, not a double-headed imperial eagle [4], we have the same portraits in schools, our cities bear the names of people from these portraits. I believe it is possible to prevent the victory of neoliberals and neoconservatives and return contemporary Ukraine to its original conception. We, left-wing anti-authoritarians, are doing everything so that Ukrainians stop identifying socialism with the sad experience of the Soviet project, which was not socialist. It was a product of counter-revolution and Bolshevik reaction, which fulfilled Bakunin’s predictions and fears.” [5]

Responsibility without hiding

I saw David for the second and last time in Kyiv in June last year. Even though we hardly knew each other until then, he proved to be an excellent companion who told me for whole hours about the Ukrainian art scene, about his experiences from Europe, and also about how he was preparing to join the army, where he already had his eye on a mortar unit in which mainly anti-authoritarians serve – often Belarusians who voluntarily joined the Ukrainian army. Among other things, he told me a sentence that I remembered well: “When I’m not in the army, I can’t express myself on many things in my country.” I think this is characteristic of his understanding of personal responsibility.

Our conversation ended with David imitating the clicking of horse hooves and assuring me that Ukrainians are as untamed as the ancient Polovtsy [6], nomads from the Black Sea steppes. Or perhaps it was other nomads, the Pechenegs [7]? I don’t remember anymore. I was looking forward to seeing him again the next day, but it didn’t work out. I’ll never see him again. We last corresponded in April – it was his birthday. He said he celebrated it in a trench just two kilometres from Russian positions. Just like New Year before that.

“He enlisted as a volunteer without publicly announcing it, he simply signed a commitment and joined people in the Armed Forces of Ukraine with whom he shared common views – anti-authoritarians. He served in an infantry company as a mortar operator. He didn’t publish photos in uniform on social networks, he only commented on socio-cultural events and reminded of Ukrainian tradition of social thinking, drew attention to the left-wing emancipatory ideas of Lesya Ukrainka [8], Ivan Franko [9] and Mykhailo Drahomanov [10],” Doroshenko wrote after his death.

In a message published on its Instagram profile by the Ukrainian anarchist Komytet sprotyvu [Resistance Committee], it states among other things: “He always conscientiously approached every work that needed to be done, never hid behind others’ backs or behind his own social capital. (...) He believed that real anarchists should share the most difficult moments with their nation.”

He did not lack social capital, after all he was a member of the fourth generation of an artistic dynasty. His great-grandfather Leonid Chichkan had already gained success and recognition as a painter and educator, grandfather Arkadiy Chichkan was a well-known nonconformist artist, and his father Illja is among the most famous contemporary Ukrainian artists.

The question of military service is today one of the most burning issues in Ukraine as a result of continuing Russian aggression. Unlike the first years of war, the influx of volunteers has already dried up and forced mobilisation brings with it various tragic excesses. A separate topic is the attitude that media-known personalities take towards military duty – for example journalists, writers, bloggers or other artists. Even if they join the army, the public often has no understanding for them working in rear positions where they can apply their specific skills. This is the example of writer, poet and musician Serhiy Zhadan [11], who in 2024 underwent military training and since then has served in the ranks of the 13^th National Guard Brigade of Ukraine Khartiya. In reality, he works as a moderator and films interviews that appear on the YouTube channel Radio Khartiya. Although it is understandable that ordinary Ukrainians wish that all mobilised people endure the same war hardships, it is not difficult to conclude that a prize-decorated writer who will soon celebrate his fifty-first birthday will bring much greater benefit to his unit and the entire Ukrainian army in the media sphere than under enemy fire. But Chichkan decided that he would make no compromises with his conscience. He paid for it with his own life.

Let us recall that according to data from the project Zabylo [They Killed], Russia has so far claimed the lives of 221 Ukrainian writers, artists, academics and other cultural figures in the war – this includes both those who fought themselves and those who died as a result of Russian attacks on the Ukrainian rear.

David Chichkan left behind a widow and son who is only a few months old. Besides them, he also left questions for all of us – about the meaning of his death, about how we ourselves would behave in a similar situation, and about whether the eventual end of the Russo-Ukrainian war will justify the heavy sacrifices that the people of the attacked country have made and continue to make.

If you want to support Chichkan’s family, you can do so via PayPal [12].

The author is a Ukrainianist.