In celebration of the 100th anniversary of the birth of the renowned Ukrainian artist Petro Stolyarenko, the exhibition Petro Stolyarenko: Paintings invites visitors to do more than admire artworks—it’s an opportunity to peek behind the curtain of the artist’s life. What unfolds is not just a collection of canvases, but a vibrant world infused with the light of Crimea, the rhythm of the sea, and profound emotional depth. Hosted at the Museum Residence of the First Private Museum of Ukrainian Contemporary Art on Yevhen Konovalets Street, 44-A, in Kyiv, this exhibition runs until September 7, 2025, featuring over 50 works from a unique collection, many unveiled for the first time. Each piece bears the imprint of Petro Kuzmych Stolyarenko’s mastery, a key figure in the Crimean school of painting. His landscapes, still lifes, and portraits spring to life, capturing nature’s beauty and the subtle shades of human emotion. Yet beyond the brushstrokes lies not only the artist but a person with a rich story, making the art feel intimately close and relatable.
To dive deeper into this world, we’ve turned to the recollections of Vladimir Kuts—Petro Kuzmych’s cousin’s grandson and a distinguished Ukrainian artist in his own right. Through his stories, we see Stolyarenko not as a distant genius but as a familiar figure: a grandfather, a mentor who shared creative secrets during late-night talks in the studio, sought inspiration in Crimea’s hidden corners, and faced life’s hardships with unyielding spirit. These family tales infuse the exhibition with warmth, letting visitors sense how every stroke conceals a slice of life—filled with joys, trials, and dreams. We invite you to discover this facet, which weaves art into our shared heritage.
Grandfather the Artist
For me, Petro Kuzmych was more than family—he was the guiding light that steered me toward my own artistic path, shares Vladimir Kuts. He opened the doors to the world of art for me, and without him, I might never have become an artist. His works always struck me with their depth and emotion; I couldn’t tear myself away from them.
I was particularly captivated by his still lifes from the 1980s and ’90s. They brimmed with life, breathing warmth and intricate details that turned ordinary objects into something alive and vibrant. Many ended up in collections abroad, but for me, they remain symbols of my grandfather’s passion. They taught me to spot beauty in the everyday, in things others might overlook.
While studying at the Nikolai Samokish Crimean Art College, I’d hop on the trolleybus every Saturday for the 97-kilometer journey to his Yalta studio. That legendary route from Simferopol to Yalta became a symbol of anticipation for our meetings.
I’d arrive, and we’d talk through the night. Grandfather would delve into various painting techniques, show me his works and sketches, explain what to focus on in composition and what to let go. These conversations were genuine lessons, packed with discoveries that made art feel accessible and profound.
Sometimes, I’d even pose for his paintings. For instance, one tied to World War II events—I don’t recall the exact title now, but it depicts Red Army soldiers and sailors emerging from under the Sevastopol bridge with griffins. The canvas pulses with dynamism and historical spirit. I posed for minor details: hands, torsos, clothing elements—all helping him bring his vision to life.
He shared insights no college or institute could teach. I’d watch him with wide-eyed wonder, mouth agape, studying every stroke on a fresh piece. Each mark on his canvases unveiled a new world, and I soaked up those lessons endlessly. Now, I realize they shaped my style and understanding of art.
Would creativity have become part of my life without Petro Kuzmych? I’m not sure. His older brother Georgiy Kuzmych could draw beautifully, my mother painted wonderfully, but they didn’t pursue it professionally. Mom was a teacher, Georgiy a mechanic-motorist. Petro Kuzmych’s father was an engineer—the family had talents, but not everyone followed that path.
The Studio
Petro Kuzmych’s Yalta studio was a true epicenter of creativity, where art came alive in every nook. During my college years, he had a space at the Artists’ Union, which he and Fedor Zakharov funded themselves. They shared the premises, divided by a wall with a common balcony. As established masters, they could afford it back then. But later, others claimed credit for the construction, leading to bitter disputes. Eventually, Petro Kuzmych left and built a separate house elsewhere, complete with a new studio.
Envy and adversaries were plentiful. How did he handle it? He seemed to immerse himself in work, always seeking, refusing to be derailed.
Obstacles were thrown their way—refunds demanded for paid exhibitions. I remember one show he sold out. This was the Soviet era, when foreign currency sparked intense interest. He earned over $100,000—an enormous sum then. The state imposed taxes, added fees, and in the end, only 15,000 rubles remained. Still decent money, but the disparity was huge. Ultimately, he never saw any of it.
Here’s a personal take: Throughout his life, no matter his charitable acts, others always claimed the credit. It hurt, but he pressed on, creating as if art were his shield against it all.
That first studio was massive—over 60 square meters with a ceiling four or five meters high. As a young man, everything seemed even grander. It had a huge skylight, perfect for natural overhead light, as in true artists’ ateliers.
Grandfather practically lived there—a small room for sleeping and a tiny kitchen. He could spend entire days immersed in work. When I’d visit, we’d ease into long conversations that stretched till dawn. He’d share techniques, secrets like making Neapolitan paints or Renaissance-era varnishes.
Petro Kuzmych was incredibly knowledgeable, despite lacking formal institute education. He studied under Nikolai Barsamov, then director of the Aivazovsky Art Gallery in Feodosia. Barsamov ran a studio where young apprentices worked on what they loved. He’d say, “I may not make you great artists, but I’ll make you fine craftsmen.” Indeed, each student excelled at copying classics.
The studio held heaps of reference materials—sketches, drafts, everything aiding creation. There were two buckets of ancient coins he’d collected over years. A vast photo collection—landscapes, people, life moments fueling new works. And various violins adding unique charm.
Where did the violins come from? Composer Georgy Sviridov visited with his quartet after a Yalta concert. They knew Petro Kuzmych, bonded over a gathering in the studio. When one violinist passed, he bequeathed the instruments to grandfather—as a token of respect and friendship.
Sadly, the studio faced about five break-ins. It also housed valuable antique icons. Tough times, defending not just art but his life’s essence. Yet he persevered, creating despite everything.
Creativity
Petro Kuzmych was a multifaceted artist. His works—impressionistic, expressionistic—were stunning; each stroke tangible, hiding hundreds of stories within.
I absorbed his style so deeply that in college, I began imitating him. For my diploma, teachers accused grandfather of painting my works. My style mirrored his so closely they couldn’t tell.
I came to him in tears, and he said, “While learning, you can paint like anyone—that’s how you grow. They say that because you’re not copying them.”
For Petro Kuzmych, what he did—was it work? Craft? Creativity? To me, creativity was his entire life; everything else just parts of it. He lived and breathed art, drawing strength from it.
How critical was he of his own work? He and Fedor Zakharov, as he told me, would annually gather failed pieces and studies, burning them dramatically in the yard. Art historians might disagree, but for them, it was purification, a way to move forward unburdened.
I’d end thoughts on his creativity with his words: “If our paintings and names are remembered in a hundred years, our lives weren’t in vain.”
Petro Stolyarenko and Crimea
There were times Petro Kuzmych took commissions, though he disliked it—more duty than joy. But they funded the studio and free explorations. What he truly loved was uncovering Crimea’s essence, delving deep, avoiding superficial “greetings from Crimea” motifs.
He sought images unseen by most—revealed only to those living and breathing Crimea, understanding its soul. These hidden nuances made his works unique, rich with authenticity. He aimed to convey not just views but emotions, memories—the Crimea beyond resort facades.
He portrayed the unnoticed Crimea: raw, authentic, full of contrasts. Like the General’s Beaches toward Kerch: scorched steppe, 41 degrees in the shade, dry winds, endless horizons.
There, he found his motifs—thorny plants jutting from earth, old sheds lost in landscapes, seemingly minor details carrying profound meaning. For him, Crimea wasn’t just a place but a philosophical wellspring, where every detail unveiled life’s mysteries, struggles, and beauty. He painted not for aesthetics but to capture essence, making the peninsula an eternal muse.
In Closing
Vladimir Kuts’ memories reveal Petro Kuzmych Stolyarenko as a man whose life intertwined with art, yet brimming with human moments—from nocturnal studio chats to inspirations in Crimea’s rugged terrains. They remind us that behind every painting lies not just technique or style, but the artist’s soul: joys, hardships, dreams of legacy, and resilience amid challenges. The exhibition transcends a mere showcase, offering a chance to feel this depth, to see Crimea through eyes that truly knew and loved it.
We invite you to pay special attention to the memories of Serhiy Tsyupko, the founder of the First Private Museum of Ukrainian Contemporary Art. In the article A Journey into the World of Petro Stolyarenko: A Personal Reflection, you will find Serhiy Viktorovych’s recollections of his meeting with Petro Kuzmych during the formation of our collection.
We invite you to visit the exhibition at the Museum Residence of the First Private Museum of Ukrainian Contemporary Art, not just to gaze at canvases but to immerse in a story that brings art alive and near. Let these family narratives inspire your reflections on heritage, creativity, and how ordinary life transforms into the eternal. We await you until September 7, 2025—come discover a new side of Stolyarenko.