As Kyiv-born fashion designer and artist, @kate.boiko's homeland was plunged into war, she knew she couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

Her country’s culture was at stake.

"I believe art is the best instrument, or at least the instrument I can use, to preserve the beautiful culture of my people, my tribe."

Kate’s series of artworks, 'Oh My Cherry Garden', ​​reflects different moments of life in Ukraine. It includes handwritten extracts from "A little orchard by the dwelling"* (1847), a Taras Shevchenko poem that reflects the Ukrainian people’s aspiration for freedom and independence.

“Ukraine is my soul, my mother and father, my home, my future and past. The war tears me apart, and the biggest mission I have is to preserve and nurture my beautiful culture.

This work reflects an endless love for home: a small cozy garden where all the family is united by the dinner, a warm summer wind, and infinite sense of freedom in the blooming fields. The poem evokes nostalgic emotions of past happiness, so fragile and inconceivable.

All pictures were set on fire - damaged, but not completely destroyed. In the same way as Ukrainian culture, so vulnerable in the current moment, but resilient and full of hope.”


The 14 One-of-a-kind Polaroid artworks are being sold by Kate through, with donations going to the people of Ukraine.

Ukraine is still very much in need of our help. To learn how you can support and donate, please read the statement from our CEO, Oskar Smolokowski.

*Translation of "A little orchard by the dwelling", a poem by Taras Shevchenko.
- excerpts of which are handwritten on the Polaroid Images:

"A little orchard by the dwelling,
The June bugs hum above its top;
Home strolling girls sing, laugh, and hop;
The ploughmen from the fields are coming,
While mothers wait for them to sup.

The kin are eating by the dwelling;
The evening star peeks o'er a bough;
A daughter serves with knitted brow
While how to serve the mother's telling,
But nightingale just won't allow.

Beside the dwelling placed the mother
Her little children in their nest,
And with a dream herself in blest.
All's still. — The girls and warblers, only,
Seem to forget it's time of rest."