When one season gently gives way to the next and the shift becomes more palpable than ever, we joyfully realize that Easter is approaching. This year, as all of Christianity unites in celebrating on the same date, we collectively prepare for one of the most beautiful and uplifting holidays — a time to reflect on the profound symbols of spring: renewal, hope, and peace.
Deeply rooted traditions and rituals mark this season, each carrying its own significance in celebrating rejuvenation, connection, and the promise of life after the dormancy of winter. But we can all agree that among them, the Easter eggs stand out as one of the most cherished. Dating back to pagan times, cultures worldwide have embraced and adapted the practice of decorating eggs — the source of life.
We have all experimented with various ways of colouring them, but one method that has elevated the tradition to an art form is undoubtedly the Ukrainian pysanky.
Last week, I had the pleasure of witnessing this intricate art firsthand, thanks to a dear friend who introduced me to a remarkable Ukrainian-Canadian artist and writer. Stepping into Maria’s world was nothing short of inspiring. Her warm welcome, her passion for the craft and openness in sharing the meaning behind each carefully drawn line and colour choice made the experience truly special. With my camera in hand, I had the opportunity to capture her home studio, her exquisite egg collection, and the beauty of her work — preserving not only stunning visuals but also the essence of a tradition that speaks of resilience, hope, and the enduring power of culture.
Maria Zdaniw was born in Poland, just 10 kilometres from the Baltic Sea. After World War II, both her father’s and mother’s families were forcibly resettled from the post-war border regions of Ukraine to Poland’s recovered territories during Operation Vistula. Her parents were deeply involved in the Ukrainian community in their town, organizing concerts and the New Year celebration known as Malanka. At home, they spoke Ukrainian, but they were not allowed to use it outside. Determined to preserve her mother tongue, Maria taught herself how to read and write in Ukrainian language.
“When I was a child,” she shared, “we weren’t allowed to celebrate our holidays. It was only later that I remember us gathering together. One vivid memory comes to mind—celebrating Christmas at my uncle’s house. The entire family would travel to the neighbouring village in the evening. All the windows were covered with blankets because everything had to be done in secret.”
Maria arrived in Canada in 1979, embracing a new beginning. She got married, built a family, and raised two children. One Easter, her son’s godfather gifted her a pysanka. Its interesting patterns and vibrant colours stirred something deep within her. Suddenly, memories of her mother crafting pysanky in the Lemko style for Easter flooded back, filling her heart with nostalgia and warmth. Maria felt an unbreakable connection to her roots and fell in love with the art of pysanky.
She began collecting them, and now possesses some truly magnificent designs that inspire her. When her children started attending Saturday school at St. Volodymyr Church, Maria learned how to create Pysanky herself. She has been writing them ever since.
The name for Ukrainian Easter eggs comes from the Ukrainian verb pysaty, meaning “to write.” This reflects the fact that the designs are not painted but written onto the raw eggs. The artist, known as the “writer,” uses a wax-resist (batik) method, applying melted beeswax with a special tool, kistka. By layering different colours of dye, complex multicoloured patterns emerge. Once the design is complete, the wax is removed, revealing the colours preserved at each stage. The egg is then sealed with protective coats. Though it may seem simple, the process requires patience, precision, and skill.
Maria generously explained each step of her work, demonstrating the wax application and showcasing the variety of eggs she uses — from white and brown chicken eggs to green-tinted ones, ostrich eggs, turkey, goose and even rhea eggs. Her studio is filled with boxes and baskets of delicate empty eggs, shelves overflowing with dyes and books for pattern inspiration, and meticulously arranged pysanky, displayed as if in a museum.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the birds, flowers, leaves, trees, triangles, poppies, fruits, and serpentines — the quiet magic of the world that Maria wrote with her hands on her pysanky. And I couldn’t help but think how significant they are today, as the war in Ukraine, waged by Russia's unprovoked and brutal invasion continues into its third year this Easter season.
Maria is saddened and hopeful all at once — despite the pain, her faith remains unshaken. She found that, during the war, creating beauty in the face of utmost atrocity added another layer of meaning to her work. The symbolism of pysanky extends well beyond the celebration of Easter. These eggs are more than just decorated objects; they are a deeply symbolic and powerful form of folk art. They tell stories of resilience and national identity, standing in defiance of Russia’s long history of attempting to suppress Ukrainian cultural heritage.
They are unity.
They are prayer.
They are hope.
They are faith in victory.
At the end of our visit, Maria sent us off with our treasured Pysanky and a story passed down through generations — a tale of a monster, the embodiment of evil, held in chains deep within the Carpathian Mountains to prevent it from unleashing destruction upon the world. Ukrainians hold a heartfelt belief that the more Pysanky people create around the world, each adorned with ancient symbols and messages, the tighter the chains become around the monster, keeping the darkness at bay.
“You know who the real monster is today?” she asked rhetorically. “I will continue to write Pysanky. As long as we keep writing these eggs, good will triumph over evil. And my soul will be in peace.”
Now, more than ever, the need for support and solidarity with Ukraine is crucial. Let’s educate ourselves and others about the cultural significance of Pysanky and the ongoing challenges Ukraine faces.
To support Maria Zdaniw and the efforts of Ukrainian women fighting against injustice, one Pysanka at a time, you can reach out to her at
mzdaniw@hotmail.ca
She sells her pysanky at church bazaars and craft shows in Toronto and nearby western regions.
The Art of Pysanky
When one season gently gives way to the next and the shift becomes more palpable than ever, we joyfully realize that Easter is approaching. This year, as all of Christianity unites in celebrating on the same date, we collectively prepare for one of the most beautiful and uplifting holidays — a time to reflect on the profound symbols of spring: renewal, hope, and peace.
Deeply rooted traditions and rituals mark this season, each carrying its own significance in celebrating rejuvenation, connection, and the promise of life after the dormancy of winter. But we can all agree that among them, the Easter eggs stand out as one of the most cherished. Dating back to pagan times, cultures worldwide have embraced and adapted the practice of decorating eggs — the source of life.
We have all experimented with various ways of colouring them, but one method that has elevated the tradition to an art form is undoubtedly the Ukrainian pysanky.
Last week, I had the pleasure of witnessing this intricate art firsthand, thanks to a dear friend who introduced me to a remarkable Ukrainian-Canadian artist and writer. Stepping into Maria’s world was nothing short of inspiring. Her warm welcome, her passion for the craft and openness in sharing the meaning behind each carefully drawn line and colour choice made the experience truly special. With my camera in hand, I had the opportunity to capture her home studio, her exquisite egg collection, and the beauty of her work — preserving not only stunning visuals but also the essence of a tradition that speaks of resilience, hope, and the enduring power of culture.
Maria Zdaniw was born in Poland, just 10 kilometres from the Baltic Sea. After World War II, both her father’s and mother’s families were forcibly resettled from the post-war border regions of Ukraine to Poland’s recovered territories during Operation Vistula. Her parents were deeply involved in the Ukrainian community in their town, organizing concerts and the New Year celebration known as Malanka. At home, they spoke Ukrainian, but they were not allowed to use it outside. Determined to preserve her mother tongue, Maria taught herself how to read and write in Ukrainian language.
“When I was a child,” she shared, “we weren’t allowed to celebrate our holidays. It was only later that I remember us gathering together. One vivid memory comes to mind—celebrating Christmas at my uncle’s house. The entire family would travel to the neighbouring village in the evening. All the windows were covered with blankets because everything had to be done in secret.”
Maria arrived in Canada in 1979, embracing a new beginning. She got married, built a family, and raised two children. One Easter, her son’s godfather gifted her a pysanka. Its interesting patterns and vibrant colours stirred something deep within her. Suddenly, memories of her mother crafting pysanky in the Lemko style for Easter flooded back, filling her heart with nostalgia and warmth. Maria felt an unbreakable connection to her roots and fell in love with the art of pysanky.
She began collecting them, and now possesses some truly magnificent designs that inspire her. When her children started attending Saturday school at St. Volodymyr Church, Maria learned how to create Pysanky herself. She has been writing them ever since.
The name for Ukrainian Easter eggs comes from the Ukrainian verb pysaty, meaning “to write.” This reflects the fact that the designs are not painted but written onto the raw eggs. The artist, known as the “writer,” uses a wax-resist (batik) method, applying melted beeswax with a special tool, kistka. By layering different colours of dye, complex multicoloured patterns emerge. Once the design is complete, the wax is removed, revealing the colours preserved at each stage. The egg is then sealed with protective coats. Though it may seem simple, the process requires patience, precision, and skill.
Maria generously explained each step of her work, demonstrating the wax application and showcasing the variety of eggs she uses — from white and brown chicken eggs to green-tinted ones, ostrich eggs, turkey, goose and even rhea eggs. Her studio is filled with boxes and baskets of delicate empty eggs, shelves overflowing with dyes and books for pattern inspiration, and meticulously arranged pysanky, displayed as if in a museum.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the birds, flowers, leaves, trees, triangles, poppies, fruits, and serpentines — the quiet magic of the world that Maria wrote with her hands on her pysanky. And I couldn’t help but think how significant they are today, as the war in Ukraine, waged by Russia's unprovoked and brutal invasion continues into its third year this Easter season.
Maria is saddened and hopeful all at once — despite the pain, her faith remains unshaken. She found that, during the war, creating beauty in the face of utmost atrocity added another layer of meaning to her work. The symbolism of pysanky extends well beyond the celebration of Easter. These eggs are more than just decorated objects; they are a deeply symbolic and powerful form of folk art. They tell stories of resilience and national identity, standing in defiance of Russia’s long history of attempting to suppress Ukrainian cultural heritage.
They are unity.
They are prayer.
They are hope.
They are faith in victory.
At the end of our visit, Maria sent us off with our treasured Pysanky and a story passed down through generations — a tale of a monster, the embodiment of evil, held in chains deep within the Carpathian Mountains to prevent it from unleashing destruction upon the world. Ukrainians hold a heartfelt belief that the more Pysanky people create around the world, each adorned with ancient symbols and messages, the tighter the chains become around the monster, keeping the darkness at bay.
“You know who the real monster is today?” she asked rhetorically. “I will continue to write Pysanky. As long as we keep writing these eggs, good will triumph over evil. And my soul will be in peace.”
Now, more than ever, the need for support and solidarity with Ukraine is crucial. Let’s educate ourselves and others about the cultural significance of Pysanky and the ongoing challenges Ukraine faces.
To support Maria Zdaniw and the efforts of Ukrainian women fighting against injustice, one Pysanka at a time, you can reach out to her at
mzdaniw@hotmail.ca
She sells her pysanky at church bazaars and craft shows in Toronto and nearby western regions.
