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AnnotationOdezhyna is a for-charity zine dedicated to original characters created and visualized by artists. In this project, artists depict Ukrainian traditional clothing from different regions stylizing them in accordance to the unique universe and environment of each character. In addition, zine contains scenery illustrations depicting the beauty and colors of Ukrainian landscapes.
ᅠMain bodyThere are stories that can be heard only in a small cabin that smells like pastry, wax, and wool.
There are stories that exist only in the warm light of a candle when clouds overcast the Moon and a hearth is cracking in the fireplace.
There are stories that can be told only in grandma’s hoarse voice.And many things did Odezhynka love - the forest, nature, culture - lively it was, Ukrainian, from the ancient times to the present. She loved the interweaving of threads and the variety of fabrics, she loved creatures that are non-human, from myths and fantasies; but such grandma’s stories she loved the most. The reason was - they were the stories of her own.The first of them all had started near the Carpathian forest, with a cabin that stood in the middle of a dense thicket - it was wooden, with its walls whitened and the roof thatched, that birds liked to take apart in spring. All kinds of creatures visited that cabin: random cats, hedgehogs, and sparrows, but only two souls remained unchanged. They were an adult, greatly experienced grandmother who never let go of her knitting needles and yarn, and young, animated, and childishly naive Odezhynka, who was the one to bring all those sick cats, hedgehogs, and sparrows home, to warm them up in the heat of the fireplace, have them drink clear spring water before letting them go on their way.Odezhynka knew well how to find them, in the leaves’ rustle and the wind’s howl she heard where to run, whom to help, and knew what to do, as nature’s tongue wasn’t foreign to her. She understood everything in the surroundings, sounds were becoming words to her, and the birds’ trill was a fascinating story about everything in the world. Odezhynka was far from an ordinary girl, but she couldn’t even imagine that other kids couldn’t talk with hedgehogs or ladybugs that landed on her hands.However, this story is about the sheep who came to Grandma's home. Odezhynka liked those sheep - it’s not this forest they had lived in, although they always appeared when the Sun shone brightly to give up some of their wool.‘Odezhynka!’ bleated the oldest sheep. ‘Be-e-eyond glad to see you. When are you coming with us, Odezhynka?’That was when Odezhynka discovered to be entirely unordinary, and to be able to do things other girls cannot - to shapeshift into a Sheep, snow-white, with her wool soft and fluffy. And that is why she can understand everything around her - as she herself is a part of nature, leaves rustling and birds singing.The second story was about Grandma teaching Odezhynka to sew and knit. With her voice hoarse, full of warmth and love for her creations, she explained how to hold a needle, spokes, and spindle.And Odezhynka listened - about the sacraments of embroidery, how to do it right and carefully, to pour her soul in; but other than that she listened about history. Traditions. Legends. How people embroidered from west to east, from south to north, and how patterns and forms changed. And Odezhynka was very-very attentive, remembering every detail, but even her grandma didn’t know everything.Odezhynka would turn into a Sheep and go into the forest to ask the wind: it told about mighty steppes it strolled in and people that lived in those steppes. What of the clothes it fanned on them but could say little about those patterns. Odezhynka would ask the trees: they rustled about great Carpathian mountains where their ancestors lived, and people that lived among the needle leaves. What of the clothes their branches touched but little could explain about their style. Odezhynka would ask the rivers: they babbled about the powerful Dnipro, that overflowed from north to south, and people that lived near its banks. What of the clothes they soaked but little could be told about the fabric features.And Odezhynka would come back to Grandma, retelling her conversations with delight, although they were of little help: after all, she still didn’t know what kinds of clothes were there, far-far away, where people were different but still akin.But Grandma laughed huskily and continued to teach: she was saying that when Odezhynka finds out - which she definitely will, if not for losing her curiosity somewhere or dropping it under a random stone - she would have to know how to replicate that. Grandma’s wisdom was incredible, so Odezhynka kept on studying hard, and her creations got better and better: trees told her that they would like to have her ribbon on their branches, the wind said that it wanted to fan that ribbon, and streams would be glad to carry them on their waves.However, the third story is sad, but don’t you worry, it’s only at the beginning - because the time passed, and Grandma did not resist it. She would walk less, embroider too, and her voice would become more hoarse; Odezhynka couldn’t help but notice.‘It is time for me to go where I came from - in the forest, to the dear ground,’ spoke Grandma sadless, having called for Odezhyka once. ‘All my sisters await me there, and I owe them lots of interesting stories’.So stayed Odezhynka in the small cabin alone. The whole forest felt silent that evening, the wind calmed down, the trees lowered their branches, streams got slower. And everyone was quiet, remembering how amazing Grandma was.‘Go, Odezhynka, I would always be near, blowing when you’re hot, and showing the way when you’re lost,’ rustled the wind as she was gathering threads and fabric in a bundle.‘Go, Odezhynka, say hello to our forefathers from the great Carpathian forest, for our roots extend all the way there,’ tree’s branches touched her as she was drawing a map of her future travel.‘Go, Odezhynka, we shall meet by the father-Dnipro who always welcomes people like you: curious, sunny, the ones who nurture our culture,’ the streams murmured as Odezhynka was leaving the forest.She went on a journey - long and interesting - to gather stories and legends about sewing the clothes correctly. And her fame preceded her: the fame of a girl who is terribly in love with the traditions of embroidery.She would barely reach the place - and would instantly receive dozens of letters inviting her to drop by for tea to listen to a family history, and to get a little of a fabric, threads, or instruments.She collected those letters, and pressed them to her chest - they were not of less importance than blouses, dresses, and accessories found personally. And she wrote, wrote, wrote down, made notes, doodled, glued those letters, in the memory of the small cabin and her Grandma.Thus she collected everything in a tiny book, and the cover had such a title.“Odezhyna”.
ᅠAcknowledgmentThroughout these pages, you have discovered a plethora of unique stories, depicted in the landscapes, attires, and original characters created by each artist. They have skillfully presented stylized Ukrainian traditional clothing that conveys an incredible flight of fantasy, spirit, and traditions of different parts of our country. All these stories have been combined into one big project called “Odezhyna”.We give our sincere gratitude to each and every person who contributed to the creation, support, and purchase of this project. It is thanks to you, that the “Odezhyna” collection and cutout came to life, thus allowing Ukrainian artwork and culture to continue to spread and inspire. What is the most important - we managed to raise funds to aid our defenders!Thank you! Glory to Ukraine.
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