You're reading: ‘Balcony Chic’ captures the obsession with extensions

Balconies extend into Ukraine’s cities right from the walls of its Soviet past.

Often built and designed by the residents themselves, they dot the literal walls of the cramped residential houses built by the Soviet state. And psychological walls — as well as a lack of government regulation — still drive Ukrainians to expand their balconies and construct new ones. Sometimes the end result can be rather bizarre.

Now, these ubiquitous structures are the heroes and villains of a new book by Osnovy Publishing. Wittily titled “Balcony Chic,” it documents do-it-yourself balconies in all their beauty and ugliness in 92 photographs taken in 13 Ukrainian cities, including Kyiv.

The book’s short introduction looks at the origins of what it calls “perhaps the most characteristic feature of the post-Soviet city.”

Extra space

Photo book “Balcony Chic” features photographs of balconies in cities across Ukraine. (Balcony Chic / Oleksandr Burlaka)

The author of the book, Oleksandr Burlaka, 36, inherited an apartment with a balcony in a 16-story building built in 1976. At the time, it was no more than a platform with balustrade panels open to the elements, a construction standard for the Soviet Union.

Burlaka’s relatives installed a frame and windows themselves, despite not being architects or builders. They obtained the materials through means considered unsanctioned in the Soviet planned economy. In fact, this was the norm.

Families also hired construction brigades that would build balconies in their spare time at the risk of prosecution, since private enterprise was a criminal offense. Enclosed balconies with glass windows became a physical representation of the Soviet shadow economy, Burlaka says.

People simply needed more living space in the free but cramped apartments provided by the Soviet mass housing program. This was especially true for the millions who relocated om villages and who used to live in relatively large farmhouses. They tried to make the new apartments their own.

People used the few extra square meters provided by the balcony as a veranda or a workshop, an extra kitchen or a bedroom in the summertime. But mostly they were used as storage space — something overlooked in Soviet housing regulations.

Burlaka’s balcony is now also a storage space: it’s filled with books, sports equipment, a vacuum cleaner, tools and construction supplies, he says. His father renovated the balcony in 2000, bringing it into the modern world with a “rational design”: aluminum walls and windows with plastic frames.

But this is just one of a legion of enclosed balcony types in Kyiv and other Ukrainian cities. Old and modern, wooden and plastic, simple and kitsch — these balconies reflect sociopolitical history, technological development, fashion trends and, of course, the individual personalities of the owners.

Despite the diversity of these balconies, Burlaka started to notice design patterns after he began working on “Balcony Chic” purposefully in 2018. In the book, he tried to present the different distinct forms of balcony architecture, he told the Kyiv Post.

“Thanks to this mass of motley additions and upgrades, the facades of residential buildings do not resemble their blueprints, instead turning into what architectural theorist Cuba Snopek called ‘collective sculptures,’” Burlaka writes.

Oleksandr Burlaka, the author of the photo book “Baclony Chic,” gives a lecture about the state of Ukrainian architecture in Bratislava, Slovakia in 2018. (Courtesy Oleksandr Burlaka)

Balcony psychology

Pimples, polyps, tumors, warts and rashes — these are some of the names people call do-it-yourself balconies on the Facebook page “Tsar-Balkon” (or Czar Balcony in Russian).

Tsar-Balkon collects photographs of DIY balconies from Ukrainian cities, some of which are large enough to be called annexes to the buildings. There are even balconies with their own balconies!

TV news editor Yaroslava Artiushenko, 36, created the page a year ago to share photos of balconies she had accumulated. The page now has almost 2,500 followers and users send their own photos of balconies for Artiushenko to share.

But while Burlaka looked for subtle beauty and diversity for his photo book, Artiushenko usually posts photos of balconies that are downright bizarre. There are currently over 230 photographs.

“The criteria are absolutely subjective: you look at it and you’re either amused or not,” Artiushenko told the Kyiv Post.

Viewers usually express astonishment at the photographs, Artiushenko says. Another common reaction is outrage — they don’t like how the balconies’ owners infringe on common areas, block the view and spoil the buildings’ facades.

By building balconies, the apartment owners extend their private space into the public sphere, disturbing the people around them. Artiushenko believes this is a psychological problem.

“The balcony is a reflection of what’s in the person’s head. If he thinks he has less than he’s due, if he’s offended and doesn’t care what others think, he will construct a 4-meter overhang, build himself another room and block out the sun for the neighbors without asking anyone,” Artiushenko says.

Ukrainians inherited the desire for their own balconies from the Soviet era, when people truly needed more space, Burlaka argues.

“Balconies appeared because of difficult conditions. But now they have entered the psychology of the Ukrainian. He or she expects to have an (enclosed) balcony with glass windows in his or her apartment — as if it were a bathroom or a bedroom,” Burlaka told the Kyiv Post.

This Kyiv balcony, featured in the “Balcony Chic” photo book, qualifies as an annex to the second floor of the building. (Balcony Chic / Oleksandr Burlaka)

Balcony laws

Both Burlaka and Artiushenko agree that Ukrainian DIY balconies are just a fact of life that can be both good and bad. Still, they say that the construction of such balconies should be regulated by law.

In “Balcony Chic,” Burlaka argues that Ukraine’s wild balconies first appeared because they were not regulated by any construction laws in the Soviet Union, “a product of unregulated space.”

In independent Ukraine, this architectural form has only recently been officially acknowledged. In October 2018, new building standards came into effect in Ukraine recognizing enclosed balconies as an official architectural feature.

This made it possible to include enclosed balconies in the designs of new buildings — meaning they will now be increasingly standardized. But the enclosed balconies installed in older buildings remain illegal, since the old building designs did not have provisions for them, Burlaka says.

“There are millions of such DIY balconies, and they cannot be regulated in practice. It’s impossible to do,” he told the Kyiv Post.

Artiushenko stresses the importance of using fines to limit the number of the outrageous balconies — a method that has proven effective in Europe, she says.

“We have formal restrictions, but no one ever gets punished for it, so people keep doing it,” she added.

Currently, the fines in Ukraine for illegal construction by individuals are quite small — from Hr 340 to Hr 1,360 ($12 to $50). Taras Panchiy, an official from the Kyiv City Administration, has said that changes should be made to the Code on Administrative Offenses to raise the fine to Hr 40,000 ($1,500). He believes this will happen in the future.

In April, Panchiy also said that Kyiv’s department of urban improvement had prepared a draft decision for the Kyiv City Council that would establish a quicker mechanism for removing illegal constructions like balconies. But according to the City Council’s website, the draft decision still hasn’t been registered for a vote.

While there are millions of DIY balconies across Ukraine and hundreds of thousands in Kyiv, city authorities plan to dismantle only 21 this year, according to Panchiy. Thus, “Balcony Chic” will likely remain relevant for a very long time.

Buy “Balcony Chic” for Hr 500 at www.osnovypublishing.com/en/balcony-chic.