Porcelain War: Military Conflicts in 2025
Using the Ukrainian documentary Porcelain War as a central lens, we initiate a dialogue about how war and military conflict disrupt the lives and livelihoods of artists across the globe
Ayush Singh
5/9/20253 min read
1. War Doesn’t Check IDs — It Hits Everyone
Right now, things are tense between India and Pakistan. Again. It’s like a broken record — military buildups, political standoffs, and a constant cloud of uncertainty. But if there’s anything history has taught us, it’s this: when war knocks on the door, it doesn’t just hit soldiers or politicians. It crashes into homes, heads into recording studios, rips through art galleries, and flattens film sets. Nobody is spared. Not even the people who try to make life a little more beautiful.
Take Ukraine. Take Gaza. Take Sudan. You’ll find the same story — artists trying to hold onto some form of expression while the world burns around them. And it’s not just about being silenced; it’s about losing income, losing homes, losing time — and sometimes, losing lives.
Let’s zoom in on one powerful example from recent years — Porcelain War, a documentary that doesn’t just tell you this story; it makes you feel it.
2. Porcelain War — A Real-Life Studio in a Combat Zone
In 2024, a film came out of Ukraine that hit pretty hard. Porcelain War isn’t a war movie in the traditional sense — no Hollywood explosions, no soaring orchestral scores. Instead, it’s real people, real bullets, and real porcelain.
Watch the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPxIHYUXeEk&t=1s
Directed by Brendan Bellomo and Ukrainian ceramic artist-turned-soldier Slava Leontyev, the film centers on three Ukrainian artists living in Kharkiv: Leontyev himself, painter-turned-filmmaker Andrey Stefanov, and porcelain sculptor Anya Stasenko. These aren’t fictional characters — they’re people who stayed behind when Russian bombs started falling. While others fled, they made art. They sculpted tiny, fantastical porcelain animals and filmed the wreckage around them. Not to ignore the war, but to stay human through it.
And the world noticed. The documentary won the Grand Jury Prize at the 2024 Sundance Film Festival. It got nominated for an Oscar. Critics called it "haunting" (The Guardian) and “over-symbolic, but unforgettable” (Hollywood Reporter). Some said it was too heavy on metaphors. Others just cried and didn’t say anything. Either way, it made people think.
Musically, the Ukrainian band DakhaBrakha lent their full discography to the film, bringing a haunting folk-meets-electronica soundtrack that hits like grief set to a metronome. These artists weren’t just decorating the film — they were living in the same world as the people on-screen.
3. Artists Are Just One Piece — But a Visible One
The thing is, artists are just one group. But they’re often the ones holding up a mirror when the rest of the world wants to look away. And when war rolls in, that mirror gets smashed — sometimes literally, sometimes economically.
Look at the stats: in Ukraine, thousands of artists have been displaced. Studios turned to rubble. Galleries turned to shelters. The European Parliament even issued a statement about how the creative economy in the country is unraveling. Gaza? Same story. The UNDP says cultural sectors there are among the hardest hit — zero infrastructure, no income, nowhere to perform.
Even musicians are feeling it. In Ukraine, pop artists like Alyona Alyona and Jerry Heil have shifted from stadium shows to frontline support. Their music is now a weapon, a fundraiser, and sometimes a farewell note. Meanwhile, in places like Sudan and Palestine, artists are working with what little they have — chalk, cellphone cameras, spoken word, graffiti on tanks — just to keep telling stories.
Porcelain War doesn’t stand alone here. It’s just one clear, well-documented snapshot of a much bigger picture — one where artists are the canaries in the coal mine. When their worlds collapse, it's a sign that the larger structure is already burning.
Eventually, nobody walks away clean
Here’s the truth: war doesn’t discriminate. Whether you’re a sculptor, a soldier, or someone just trying to write a song — it takes something from everyone. And that’s why Porcelain War is more than a film. It’s a quiet scream from the middle of the madness.
Art doesn’t stop wars, but it survives them. Barely. And when it does, it reminds us that something worth fighting for still exists on the other side.
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