Fragile Egg Art Outlasts Empires, Chains Monsters, and Makes Peace ☮️

Pysanky egg warriors are leading the resistance in Ukraine and beyond.

Photo by author

I'm bringing this one back from last year because I can't think of a better way to prepare for what's coming. On March 23rd at 11 a.m., I'm sitting down live with the incredible Jenny Santa Maria—the artist who led our pysanky gathering and inspired every word of this piece. If you've ever wanted to understand why writing on an egg feels like resistance, or you're curious about trying it yourself, join us. The live will be even richer if you've spent a few minutes with this essay first.

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I'm the smallest I can be. On the floor, I've got my knees close to my chest and my arms wrapped tightly around my shins. With my chin tucked toward my chest, I rock back and forth, back and forth, along my spine, until momentum lifts me upright, and I'm almost sitting. I'm balancing myself on my sitting bones while still keeping my egg shape.

I like this tiny version of myself.

In yoga, we call this pose a cosmic egg. Returning to my egg roots reminds me of how we begin life, safe and warm in our mothers' wombs. The cosmic egg is a powerful symbol in Hindu mythology, representing the universe's creation and containing the primordial elements from which life emerges.

Eggs have so much to teach us.

Eggs are nutritionally rich and culturally profound. However, the tenacious bird flu has limited their availability, and grocery prices for a carton have soared accordingly. People are so upset about this that they made egg prices a political platform during the last election.

Eggs are having their day.

Ancient people understood their scarcity. In cold climates, chickens don't usually lay eggs over the winter. In the spring, the appearance of eggs meant renewal, life, and the rebirth of nature.

Creating Pysanky: An Ancient Art of Resistance

I recently had an opportunity to make something unique with an ordinary chicken egg. Friends and I recently “wrote Pysanky” with artist Jenny Santa Maria. You've probably seen these beautiful eggs but may be unaware of their profound meaning. The tradition of using wax to create eggshell designs and add color with dye predates Christianity. It was a pagan practice traced back thousands of years to pre-Christian Slavic cultures.

The word pysanka comes from the Ukrainian verb "pysaty, " meaning "to write," since designs are written onto the egg using a wax-resist batik technique. People used this writing to communicate with symbols like the sun, wheat, flowers, fish, spirals, triangles, and crosses.

With the Christianization of Kyivan Rus in 988 CE, many pagan customs persisted and were absorbed into the Christian calendar. The pysanka transitioned from a fertility talisman to a symbol of Christ's resurrection, demonstrating an early example of cultural adaptation rather than erasure. In the tenth century, the pysanky tradition was absorbed into Christian culture and associated with Easter. The egg became a symbol for the tomb of Jesus.

The Myth That Keeps Ukraine Strong

The Ukrainian people have held tightly to a pre-Christian myth that has perpetuated the practice of pysanky.

It goes like this:

A terrifying serpent monster is chained deep in the Carpathian mountains. This evil beast strives to break itself free, threatening to bring destruction to the world. Every year, the creature sends out minions to spy on humanity. These creatures report back on how many pysanky they have found. As long as people continue to decorate eggs and keep the tradition alive, the monster remains bound and powerless.

The more pysanky created, the tighter the chains become. However, if people were to stop making pysanky, the monster's chains would loosen, and eventually, it would escape, bringing chaos, suffering, and destruction to the world.

The legend of the chained monster connects Pysanky to preserving peace and order, and the myth resonates even more powerfully today.

Americans can relate to this mythological creature as we witness our struggles with forces beyond our control. We are also fighting battles against corruption, misinformation, and the erosion of democratic norms.

In both contexts, the monster represents forces that threaten to overwhelm us. In both cases, the creative act becomes a form of resistance—a way to assert that beauty and tradition will persist despite destruction. We may feel powerless, but we can raise the collective spirit through our creative actions, just as Ukrainians have done through centuries of occupation and oppression.

For Ukrainians facing war, creating pysanky represents a continuation of cultural identity that has survived centuries of attempts at erasure.

Cultural Survival Against All Odds

Pysanky's survival through centuries of cultural transitions and political upheavals speaks to the resilience of this folk tradition. During the Ottoman, Polish, and Russian rule, Ukraine, lacking independent statehood for much of its history, was controlled by various empires. Despite these external influences, pysanky persisted as an oral and artistic tradition passed down within families, particularly by women.

Because pysanky were created in people's homes rather than formal settings, the art avoided suppression more easily than other cultural expressions.

The Soviet era, from 1922 to 1991, presented perhaps the greatest threat to this tradition. The Soviet regime sought to suppress religious and nationalist expressions, and pysanky, with its deep connection to both, was actively discouraged. Many Ukrainian artists and rural practitioners stopped making them for fear of persecution.

However, Ukrainian communities in other parts of the world, particularly North America, kept the tradition alive. Ukrainian immigrants to the US and Canada established cultural centers and museums dedicated to pysanky. In the 1960s, a resurgence of Ukrainian nationalism and folk art movements helped reintroduce pysanky to new generations.

In 2023, the first Easter season after Putin's invasion of Ukraine, artists organized fundraisers and sold their pysanky eggs to raise money to benefit Ukraine. These efforts continue as the war drags on.

Pysanky reminds us that art created in kitchens and living rooms can outlast empires.

Fragility and Resilience: Lessons from a Broken Egg

The chained monster's minions were diabolically active while I was writing my pysanky egg. I broke my egg not once but twice and had to start over with a new egg each time. I was especially distraught the first time because I had received the coveted blue chicken egg, which meant my base color would be a spectacular background for my design.

But it was not to be.

In those moments of frustration, I remembered life’s essential lessons:

• Everything is temporary.

• Life is fragile.

• I can always begin again.

Another friend broke her egg while she was melting the wax from the egg, the final step of the process. Coach Jenny swooped in and preserved as much of her artwork as possible, even though the egg was now missing its base.

There's something profoundly metaphorical about creating art on such a delicate surface. The process teaches patience, acceptance, and the courage to start over—qualities that echo the resilience of the Ukrainian people throughout their turbulent history.

The egg's fragility mirrors our vulnerability, while the act of creation demonstrates our capacity to just keep going.

Coming Together: The Communal Power of Creation

In times of war and oppression, Ukrainians have made pysanky a symbol of resilience and national identity. Pysanky brings people of all ages together, reinforcing the bonds of our humanity.

Women coming together creatively has become especially meaningful since the pandemic, when these gatherings were rare. Our group shared concerns about the current political climate and the need for stress relief. By creating pysanky, we could discuss other things that bind us together while supporting Ukraine.

While writing on our eggs, we often worked in meditative silence as we transcribed our messages. Pysanky symbolizes peace in Ukrainian tradition and is a form of prayer. This communal silence created space for processing difficult emotions about global events that often leave us feeling helpless.

Creating Pysanky as Solidarity

In this time when many Americans feel restricted in showing support for Ukraine, creating pysanky offers a tangible way to express solidarity. The creative act itself becomes an act of resistance against fear and complacency. Writing pysanky here shows we are aware of this native art form and engage with it alongside Ukrainians, even though we are far away and may otherwise lack the power to influence world events.

Creating pysanky connects us to a tradition that has survived centuries of attempts at cultural erasure. By participating in this tradition, we affirm its continued relevance and power. Each egg we create symbolically tightens the chains on the monster of destruction, whether in Ukraine or in our society.

Interested in trying pysanky? Consider this:

• Researching local Ukrainian cultural centers that might offer workshops. If you're here in New Jersey, you can find Jenny Santa Maria conducting workshops everywhere! Follow her on Instagram for more info.

• Contacting art centers and community education programs.

• Checking out YouTube and learning this beautiful art at home. You will need these basic supplies: raw eggs, beeswax, kistka tools, dyes, and candles.

• Creating a space where participants can both learn the technique and discuss its meaning.

Through these small, beautiful acts of creation, we participate in a centuries-old tradition of resilience. We remind ourselves that even in the most difficult times, we retain the power to create beauty, preserve culture, and strengthen community—one tiny, cosmic egg at a time.

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Want to see a brief tutorial on creating Pysanky? Check out this brief Youtube video.