By Scott Douglas Jacobsen
Editor (Canada-Ukraine), Times Asian
Ola Rondiak is a Ukrainian-American contemporary artist, sculptor, and former psychotherapist whose work explores identity, memory, displacement, and Ukrainian cultural resilience. Raised in the United States by Ukrainian immigrant parents, she later relocated to Kyiv, where her artistic practice deepened through engagement with Ukraine’s political upheavals and historical trauma. Known for her large-scale motanka sculptures, collage, and mixed-media works, Rondiak combines personal family history, women’s experiences, and national memory into visually layered narratives exhibited internationally.
Scott Douglas Jacobsen interviews Ola Rondiak about her ART KYIV exhibition, focusing on large-scale motanka sculptures as symbols of Ukrainian resilience, cultural memory, and identity. Rondiak explains how stronger materials and outdoor scale reflect permanence, while ancient doll forms connect personal family history with national trauma. She discusses viewers’ interpretations, cross-cultural talismanic parallels, Russian reactions, her children’s creativity, and her own musical theatre past in Ukraine, including playing Rizzo in Grease, and family artistic life.
Scott Douglas Jacobsen: What about now, stands out, for ART KYIV exhibition?
Ola Rondiak: Other things in the letters stood out too. She became very religious, which my mother said she had not known about growing up. But I think being in prison changed her. It is like people say about the army: there is no soldier who does not believe in a higher being. I suppose that is what happens in those situations.
Jacobsen: In the United States, the number of prisoners who are atheists is around one percent.
Rondiak: Right. When you are faced with those situations, maybe you believe in something higher.
Jacobsen: Current exhibition. You have big motankas.
Rondiak: As I experimented with the motankas over the years, moving from plaster, I began thinking about how to get them outdoors. Intuitively, they started becoming larger and made from stronger materials. In retrospect, I realized it reflected this growing feeling of resilience. It was not that I was trying to show Ukrainians as resilient; it was that the energy itself was coming into the sculptures. They grew larger and stronger, moving from impermanent to permanent, from soft to harder materials, something meant to last.
They are important in my journey because they tie together so much of what I have experienced: the past and the present, my own life and Ukraine’s history, through this contemporary version of an ancient Ukrainian rag doll. That is what I love about them as a contemporary artist: they let me show a piece of history.
When I show my art around the world, people still do not always know the history of Ukraine. I grew up almost as an ambassador for Ukraine. My name was Ola in America, so people would ask, “What is Ola?” I would say, “Ukrainian,” and they would say, “Oh, you are Russian.” So from the time I could talk, I was explaining that Ukraine is not Russia. This work is a continuation of that.
Every time I have an exhibition, I can talk about how deep Ukrainian history and culture are: that the Ukrainian language has deep historical roots, and that Kyivan Rus existed long before Moscow became powerful. People are often shocked to learn those facts.
Jacobsen: Yes. Belarus, Russia, and modern Ukraine come out of some ancient superstates, essentially.
Rondiak: Yes. Moving here connected me to my roots much more quickly and strongly. It accelerated that connection, helping me feel my ancestral spirit and meet family members here.
Jacobsen: Were there any surprising interpretations from the current exhibition? People come by, give a comment, and you think, “I had not thought about it that way.”
Rondiak: Very often, things come out of people that surprise me, and I love that. I love when people bring their own interpretations to my work. I learn from that as well.
Jacobsen: What are some things you learned?
Rondiak: It is almost like people put into words what I am expressing visually, because I do not necessarily think about it verbally myself. Even here at the art fair, Katya told me someone commented that the wooden and metal motankas were interesting because the wood spoke to nature, while the metal represented the hardness and permanence of Ukraine. I love hearing things like that.
Sometimes reactions are more difficult. I have been exhibiting at the Miami Art Fair for maybe seven or eight years now, and sometimes Russians become angry at my work because they believe something very different about Ukraine.
At other times, people from completely different cultures identify with the work in unexpected ways. When I was exhibiting my motanka sculptures in Harlem in New York, a woman from Africa told me the sculptures reminded her of talismans from her own culture. They had similar dolls. I think if you go back far enough, there are many crossovers between cultures.
Jacobsen: Yes. Norse culture, for example, had influence on Ukraine historically as well. There are a lot of cultural crossovers.
Rondiak: Exactly. In her culture, the doll was connected more to fertility, whereas here it functioned more as a talisman, but there were still similarities.
Jacobsen: Ancient supernatural systems are broad categories. The logic is basically, “This object does this for me. X does Y.”
Rondiak: Right. I enjoy hearing people’s interpretations and observations. That openness is one of the beautiful things about art. People can interpret it for themselves and discover what it means to them personally.
Jacobsen: Are any of your children artists?
Rondiak: Yes, in their own ways. Maya is a musician, singer, songwriter, and dancer, so she expresses herself artistically through performance and music. But if you handed her a canvas and paint, she would also be a natural.
Jacobsen: So canvas was not threatening for her.
Rondiak: No, she would just go through canvases because she grew up surrounded by them.
Sometimes on the way to school she would say, “Mama, I love that painting.” Then she would come home later and ask, “Wait, where is the painting I loved?” And I would say, “Oh, I have already painted over it five times.” She would start crying and hiding the paintings she liked in her room so I would not paint over them.
The children grew up surrounded by art. My husband, even though he is an engineer and businessman, loves music. There was always music in the house. He writes as well. My son is also a music producer.
Jacobsen: You also did musical theatre in Ukraine.
Rondiak: I did. I played Rizzo in Grease.
Jacobsen: Thank you very much for the opportunity and your time, Ola.
Scott Douglas Jacobsen is a Canadian journalist and publisher who serves as Times Asian’s Editor for Canada and Ukraine Affairs and writes on international affairs.
