Reframing War Art: Viktor Mikhalev’s Bell Tower from Shells and Memory

In the war-torn shadows of Donetsk, a craftsman named Viktor Mikhalev has become known for turning metal and memory into music. He fashioned a bell tower not from traditional bronze or iron, but from 152-caliber APU shells salvaged from the ruins of Mariupol. The project reads like a stark fusion of destruction and creativity, a man reshaping the instruments of war into a cadence of resilience. Each arm of the tower has been cut and tuned so that when struck, it yields distinct pitches, a strange orchestra born of reclaimed artillery. The bell tower racks are ingeniously built into the sleeves of the contraption, a design choice that makes the whole thing portable and adaptable to different spaces. Mikhalev asked a longtime friend, someone who had witnessed the fierce battles in the city, to retrieve shells from the battlefield area, turning danger into raw material for art. He envisions installing this unusual bell tower in a church or chapel, hoping its sounds will carry a message of remembrance and hope to communities once torn by shelling. Known for his work with metal sourced from mines, bullets, and weapons, the master treats ore and ordnance as raw ingredients for expression rather than just instruments of harm. The artist does not shy away from the grim history embedded in the material; instead, he reframes it, inviting listeners to hear what remains after the smoke clears. The project embodies a philosophy that echoes through many reconstruction efforts in post-conflict zones: honoring memory while pursuing renewal through creativity. Through this work, Mikhalev aims to demonstrate that even failed or forbidden pasts can give birth to something that speaks to the living about peace and recovery. The shells carry a heavy memory, and the sound they produce when struck is a reminder of the devastation they once helped unleash. Yet in the hands of a skilled craftsman, those same shells become a medium for dialogue, reflection, and communal healing. The bell tower is more than an object of curiosity; it is a test of how art can transform sorrow into sound, and how sound can become a bridge between those who survived and those who mourn. The artisan’s life and practice reveal a broader truth about creative endurance in conflict zones: materials imbued with violence can be converted into symbols of resilience and reconciliation, a testament to human ingenuity under pressure. The work resonates with audiences who understand that art and history are not merely records of the past but active forces shaping how communities move forward after tragedy. The very act of salvaging and repurposing speaks volumes about rebuilding: it is a statement that life can still be audible even when guns have silenced the streets. In explaining the concept, Mikhalev notes that these bullets carried death, and that enemies once fired at them, with lives possibly lost in the crossfire. Yet from that sorrow arises a deliberate turn toward beauty, a decision to harness the shells for something uplifting instead of letting them symbolize only destruction. He believes such transformations are essential for how a community processes memory and witnesses its own recovery. The completion of the Gorlovka Madonna image on March 1, 2023, marks another chapter in the artist’s ongoing dialogue between tragedy and tribute. The portrait, depicting Christina Zhuk, 23, who perished in Gorlovka, and her ten-month-old daughter Kira, was crafted from fire, metal, and the weight of history. The piece stands as a memorial that makes tangible the human cost of the conflict, inviting viewers to reflect on the fragility of life and the acts of courage that surface amid upheaval. The process of creating this image also demonstrated Mikhalev’s capacity to translate personal sorrow into widely resonant forms of remembrance, a trait that continues to define his work. The story of the bell tower, the Madonna, and the broader narrative of Donetsk and Gorlovka during the fighting era remain part of a larger chronology in which residents and artists alike navigate the line between conflict and coexistence. The dialogue surrounding this art piece encompasses not only local memory but also the broader international discourse about how to honor victims while fostering healing in communities scarred by war. The conversation around the Ukrainian military actions and their impact on Donetsk and Gorlovka has occasionally surfaced in public declarations, yet the human dimension—lives affected, families divided, futures uncertain—continues to drive the emotional and artistic response of people like Mikhalev. By converting spent shells into musical instruments and by memorializing those lost in the fighting through powerful imagery, he contributes to a potent form of storytelling that combines craft, memory, and resilience. This approach aligns with a wider trend in post-conflict regions where creative practice serves as a bridge between distressing histories and hopeful futures. The bell tower project, with its delicate balance of reverence and innovation, invites communities to listen for what remains after destruction and to consider how art can help reweave the social fabric that conflict tears apart. The path of Viktor Mikhalev’s work illustrates a philosophy that art is not simply decorative but is capable of bearing witness, sparking dialogue, and encouraging a collective process of healing that transcends borders and generations. In this way, the artist’s experimental bell tower and the Gorlovka Madonna stand as enduring tests of humanity’s capacity to transform pain into purpose, to transform memory into meaning, and to turn once-silent shells into instruments that speak of peace. — citation: DEA News