One could argue that Stalin was responsible for both the destruction of Khreschatyk and its re-emergence as Kyiv’s premier street. After all, it was his indecision which led to the fall of the city in September 1941 when he issued the dictates to raise the city to the ground, and he was behind the 1946-1953 rebuilding, when Kyiv rose from the ashes.

When Kyiv took on the mantle of national capital in 1934, Khreschatyk lacked the attributes of a metropolitan hub. The town needed focus, and a rather anonymous Khreschatyk failed to fill the void. Plans drawn up for major reconstruction focused on Khreschatyk, however. This first Soviet reconstruction of the street in 1936-1941 devoured astronomic sums, but was essentially a superficial attempt to change the boulevard as nothing could really be done without demolishing much of the tightly packed housing. This first ‘Remont’ did see the width of Khreschatyk standardised to span some 44 meters across, while two and three-storeyed buildings were replaced by newer constructions. The root problems remained unsolved, however. These problems continued to trouble city architects until 19 September 1941, when Kyiv fell to the Germans. Headaches over redesigning Khreschatyk vanished overnight, as did Khreschatyk itself, or at least most of it, together with many adjacent areas, as NKVD sappers hiding out in the occupied city launched commando raids to destroy much of the downtown area by planting explosives. Luckily for Kyivites many historical landmarks were rescued by the German occupiers, who dug mines out from the National Opera House, the State Bank (9, Institutska), the NKVD offices (33, Volodymyrska) and others. After the war Stalin was at the forefront as plans were drawn up for the new Kyiv. By now the triumphant dictator was looking to his place in history and the post-war rebuilding of the Soviet UNI0N provided him with the perfect opportunity to impose his megalomania on the Soviet people through the widespread erection of dominating architecture designed to inspire awe among the masses. Dubbed ‘Stalinist architecture’, this phenomenon has become a world-renowned calling card of imperial ideology and propaganda, and typically features monumentality together with eclectic touches of gothic, renaissance, classical and baroque styles. Together this mix-match of styles was meant to represent the ultimate blend, or the finishing point for architectural history. Like all dictators, Stalin considered himself a leading thinker in a number of fields including architecture, and was thus keen to see his name associated with such a style. It is actually difficult to know to what extent this unique architectural phenomenon was Stalin’s creation and how much of it was down to the opportunism of his hangers-on, keen as they were to ‘work towards the dictator’ and please him given a prior knowledge of his interests and what might appeal to his monumental ego. It seems highly likely that both factors played a role. As Kyiv was the biggest prize the Germans claimed on the Eastern Front, Stalin was particularly keen to see it returned to glory in record time, and central street Khreschatyk was ear-marked for particular attention. One of the key figures behind post-war Khreschatyk was Moscow architect Aleksandr Vlasov, one of Stalin’s two main pet designers. At the beginning of his career, Vlasov had been a promising young architect whose proposal for a Moscow Congress Hall was one of the most original in an impressive international field in 1931-32. However, the increase in repression and paranoia in the mid-to-late 1930s meant an end to free endeavour and the end of Soviet constructivism. In its place Stalin’s pretentious and collossal classicism was established as the rule. Vlasov was appointed chief architect for the rebuilding of Kyiv from 1944 till 1950, when Khrushchev took him up to Moscow. For most people, Moscow remains the high alter of Stalinist architecture, but Kyiv also boasts many classic examples. Whereas in Moscow the standard was ruthlessly adhered to, in post-war Kyiv a number of slight ‘deviations’ from the imperial standard were permitted. In Kyiv the still-talented Vlasov certainly betrayed his brilliant creative principles, but he did it with a lot more humanity and sophistication than his mediocre counterpart in Moscow, Stalin’s favourite Dimitry Chechulin, managed. The most typical examples of this touch can be found on Khreschatyk in the ornate additions to the imposing facades which serve to make the street look not unlike a giant cake. See blocks 28/2 and 36 Khreschatyk, for the best examples of this style in practice. The impressive sweep of the rooftops along down to Prorizna from the Central Post Office also carries his unmistakable signature, albeit with the brooding influence of Comrade Stalin also easily detectable as an undertone. While Vlasov was busy reconstructing imperial Kyiv in a manner befitting of Stalin’s newly-acquired warrior-emperor status, the second of Stalin’s favourites Chechulin was busy doing the same thing in Moscow. The seven ‘Stalin skyscrapers’ (including the Moscow State University, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the ‘Ukraina’ Hotel) are arguably the best examples of this mix-match style. Interestingly, an eighth tower was planned, and it was to be erected next to the historical walls of the Kremlin, but due to extraordinary intervention on the part of the UN the Kremlin was spared this decoration, with the plans instead presented to socialist Poland, where the tower was finally erected in Warsaw.