A Snapshot Stirs the Flames of the Ukraine-Russia Cultural Clash

It resembles a tranquil moment from the battlefield in Ukraine: A cluster of armored soldiers gathered around a makeshift table filled with food and playing cards. Some laugh or smoke, while one reclines on the ground, grinning as he scrolls through his phone.

This photograph stands apart from other images of the Ukrainian front that have united the populace over the course of the conflict — it features no cannon blasts, no soldiers emerging from trenches, and no injured combatants with twisted features.

Nevertheless, throughout the past year, this image has been extensively circulated online by Ukrainians and commended by government representatives, who recently showcased it in the main exhibition space of the capital due to its profound connection to the struggle of Ukrainian identity brought on by Russia’s full-scale invasion.

The photograph — arranged and captured in late 2023 by Émeric Lhuisset, a photographer from France — reinterprets a renowned 19th-century artwork of Cossacks from central Ukraine, with contemporary Ukrainian soldiers replacing the iconic horse-riding fighters. The stances and expressions of the soldiers mirror those in the original painting, although swords have been substituted with machine guns.

This theme lies at the core of a cultural battle between Russia and Ukraine that has escalated since Moscow initiated its complete invasion nearly three years ago, with Ukrainians striving to reclaim and assert an identity that Russia claims is nonexistent.

Both Ukraine and Russia have laid claim to the painting as part of their cultural legacies. Not only does it portray Cossacks, a group both nations consider to be their own, but it was also created by Illia Repin, an artist born in what is now Ukraine, who carried out much of his work in Moscow and St. Petersburg, then the capital of the Russian Empire.

It is a cultural conflict that has long favored Russia. The most well-known version of the painting is housed in St. Petersburg, while a less prominent version resides in Kharkiv, located in northeastern Ukraine. Repin has been classified as Russian in international exhibitions, which is a source of frustration for Ukrainians who regard him as one of their own.

However, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has compelled institutions like the Metropolitan Museum of Art to re-evaluate this categorization and to reclassify Repin as Ukrainian.

Through his photographic reinterpretation, Mr. Lhuisset aims to further contest Russia’s narrative by establishing a direct connection between the Cossacks, who occasionally resisted the authority of czarist Russia, and the present-day Ukrainian Army.

“You cannot comprehend this war without understanding the entire matter of cultural appropriation,” Mr. Lhuisset, 41, remarked in a recent interview in Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine. “This represents a genuine cultural conflict.”

The painting — “Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks to Sultan Mehmed IV of Turkey” — is well-known among most Ukrainians, with reproductions adorning numerous homes. It illustrates a group of Cossacks from what is now the Zaporizhzhia region in southern Ukraine happily crafting a sarcastic reply to an ultimatum to surrender from the sultan in 1676.

The Zaporizhzhia area is currently partly under Russian influence. The remainder has faced a rise in Russian airstrikes in recent months.

Although historians assert that the illustrated event most likely never occurred, the message of resistance it conveys has deeply resonated within Ukraine.

“This painting was a component of my self-identity formation,” recounted Tetyana Osipova, 49, a Ukrainian service member depicted in the photograph. She remembered that her grandmother had preserved a small reproduction “in a place of honor” next to the Christian Orthodox icons in their residence, serving as a reminder to “stand up for oneself.”

Mr. Lhuisset stated he first recognized the painting’s importance during his visit to Kyiv amidst the 2014 uprising that ousted a pro-Kremlin president. He recalled witnessing demonstrators holding signs featuring reproductions of the artwork to symbolize “their determination not to yield, not to submit.”

Upon returning to France, the painting faded from his thoughts.

Until Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022.

Mr. Lhuisset was motivated by a news story about a Ukrainian border guard’s bold and profanity-laden radio message directed at an approaching Russian naval attack. The brash response instantly reminded him of the painting.

“For me, it was the Cossacks’ response to the sultan,” he expressed. “It was glaringly evident.”

He resolved to encapsulate this spirit of defiance by re-creating Repin’s artwork in a contemporary context. He spent months collaborating with the Ukrainian military to arrange for armed soldiers to pose for the photograph and to locate a secure venue, north of Kyiv, to stage it. Some of the troops came directly from the front lines, their mustachioed faces reminiscent of the spirited Cossacks.

“They appeared as if they had emerged from the painting!” exclaimed Andrii Malyk, the press representative for Ukraine’s 112th Territorial Defense Brigade, which took part in the project.

Mr. Lhuisset aimed for the photograph to be as faithful to the original painting as possible. He meticulously organized approximately thirty soldiers, positioning their hands and encouraging them to pause in bursts of hearty laughter to capture the essence of the original image. Items in the painting were substituted with modern counterparts: a slouch hatbecame a headgear; a musket evolved into an explosive launcher; a mandolin was exchanged for a wireless speaker.

A drone floats in the atmosphere, a reference to the crewless aircraft that have appeared prominently on combat zones.

Mr. Lhuisset shared the photograph several days later on social media, and it was rapidly adopted by Ukrainian media and government representatives as a symbol of the nation’s independence spirit. Ukraine’s Ministry of Defense shared the image on the platform X with the phrase: “Cossack blood flows in our veins.”

For Ukrainians, the photograph acted as a way to reclaim a masterpiece that they argue has frequently been misidentified as Russian, despite its Ukrainian origins.

“Some individuals regard the painting as Russian, not Ukrainian,” mentioned Eduard Lopuliak, a combat medic presented in the photograph. “It serves as a reminder that it’s our cultural legacy, not Russia’s.”

Russia, on its side, claims that Repin is a Russian artist and that his entire body of work should be viewed as Russian.

The artist was born in contemporary Ukraine and trained in art there before relocating to St. Petersburg to advance his career. Oleksandra Kovalchuk, a deputy director of the Odesa Fine Arts Museum, remarked that Repin maintained significant connections to Ukraine via friendships and by supporting Ukrainian artists. To portray the Cossacks genuinely, he traversed the nation and collaborated closely with local historians, she noted.

In numerous aspects, the photograph was Ukraine’s response to Russia’s own reinterpretation of the artwork. In 2017, the Russian artist Vassily Nesterenko, a favorite of the Kremlin, re-envisioned the Cossacks in contemporary Russian uniforms, in a piece titled “A Letter to Russia’s Enemies.”

The initiative also carries a more pressing mission for Ukraine: assisting in reconstructing a cultural heritage ravaged by nearly three years of conflict.

Russian airstrikes on museums and theaters have obliterated numerous Ukrainian cultural treasures. Moscow’s occupying forces have also pillaged establishments like the Kherson Regional Art Museum in southern Ukraine, which lost nearly its entire collection.

To contribute to alleviating this loss, Mr. Lhuisset journeyed to Kyiv late last year with a large copy of his photograph and presented it to Alina Dotsenko, the museum director. “The Kherson museum today is an empty structure,” he stated. “To transform into a museum again, it requires a new collection.”

The photograph was showcased for a day in the Ukrainian House, a prominent cultural hub in Kyiv, alongside vacant frames remaining from the theft in Kherson. Like the majority of Ukraine’s artworks, it was subsequently kept in a secure and undisclosed location to safeguard it from Russian aggression. It will be moved to Kherson when the museum reopens, which is virtually unfeasible at present due to its proximity to the front line.

Mr. Malyk, the soldier, expressed his hope to visit the museum once the war concludes to show his children the photograph. Like the painting, he remarked, the photograph encapsulates a significant moment in Ukraine’s narrative.

“We aspire for it to be passed down through generations,” he added.

Daria Mitiuk contributed reporting.