Egging us on: Ukrainian decorator keeps art form alive

Thursday, April 3, 2003 | 8:18 a.m.

It was barely noon at a local community center and the art of pysanky was in the shaky hands of newcomers.

Students hunched over tables, manipulated their kistkas and took notes. The process of writing and dyeing would last for hours. There would be casualties, of course; it was a beginners' workshop.

But in the art of Ukrainian egg decorating, a broken egg can be salvaged. Varnish can mend cracks.

"We never throw an egg away," instructor Zoria Zetaruk said as she ushered a cup of red dye to a table.

"It's eggshell art. If I drop it and break it, I can use half the shell and can make a pin with it, or earrings."

Pinned to Zetaruk's sweater was a mishap-turned-name tag, an inspiring reminder for those whose eggs had already succumbed to damage.

On a nearby counter, her full-bodied, multicolored and intricately designed eggs were on display. Candles and the faint smell of vinegar filled the room.

The free workshop was hosted by the Nevada Arts Council as a way to introduce Zetaruk and the art pysanky to the general public.

Zetaruk is an 88-year-old folk artist who wakes at 5 a.m. each day to "write" eggs. Working four hours a day, a richly designed goose egg will take Zetaruk one month to complete. Her house is filled with hundreds of elaborately designed finished products.

The eggs, called pysanky, are sold each year at the local folk festival. During Easter Zetaruk supplies eggs to those who are loyal to the Ukrainian Orthodox Church's tradition of having eggs blessed by a priest.

Last Christmas one of her decorated ostrich eggs was shipped to the White House as an ornament to represent Nevada on a nationally themed Christmas tree. On Wednesdays she teaches the tradition to seniors.

"It's more fun than you'd know," Zetaruk said. "A day goes by that you didn't write an egg and you think, I didn't write today, something's wrong with me.' It's something that once you're into it's hard to give up."

Ukrainian egg decorating dates back to pre-Christian times. Patterns and symbols are written on uncooked eggs using melted wax. The eggs are dyed and the design is preserved under the wax.

After several drawings and dyes, the wax is removed, revealing an elaborately decorated multicolored egg. After the egg's contents are blown out and it gets varnished, it can be saved for several Easters to come. Eggs are given as gifts for other occasions as well.

In pysanky, a diamond indicates knowledge. A cross signifies the four corners of the world and the resurrection of the savior. Dots represent the stars.

"Before the birth of Christ the eggs were written about the environment," Zetaruk said. "They had stars, birds, trees. When Christianity came to the Ukrainian people, they started making designs with crosses rather than animals and birds. That's when writing became very popular, because the preachers saw the value in this. That's when it was blessed."

At Easter members of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church place the decorated eggs into food baskets brought to the church to be blessed by priests. The Easter eggs are essential to the mix, Zetaruk said, because they represent resurrection. The tradition is still being practiced in the Ukraine and parts of the United States.

Born to Ukrainian parents who immigrated to Canada, Zetaruk learned the art of pysanky as a child from her mother, who supplied them to residents of the Ukrainian community.

"My mother wrote eggs for everybody," she said. "Few people in the community knew how to write the eggs or didn't have time or didn't want to learn. I had to start early in life because my mother didn't want me to skip rope while she was writing because it would shake the floor."

Today, Zetaruk said, "Out of a family of eight, I am the only one who's writing the eggs."

But the tradition skipped a generation and fell into the hands of her grandchildren, some of whom teach pysanky in their own communities.

Zetaruk, who moved to Las Vegas more than 20 years ago, began teaching locally after attending a workshop listed in the newspaper. Impressed by her skill, the instructor announced that Zetaruk would be teaching the class.

"That's 23 years now and we've had a class every Wednesday since," Zetaruk said. "A lot of people write better than I do."

As a way to spread the tradition, the Nevada Arts Council's Folk Arts Apprenticeship Program provides funds so Zetaruk can work in-depth with apprentices in Ukrainian egg decoration. The apprentices now teach.

Christina Barr, a folklife program associate with the Nevada Arts Council, said the apprenticeship program is designed to give artists such as Zetaruk a voice and a place to do their craft within the community.

"The master/artist apprenticeship relationship is decided by the artist," she said. "It can even be someone within their family."

The recent free workshop at the East Las Vegas Community and Senior Center was the first hosted by the Nevada Arts Council to feature Zetaruk.

"We wanted the general public to have the opportunity to work with Zoria," Barr said. "There was a waiting list for this class."

During class students used the kistkas, tiny wooden rods pierced with copper funnels, as pens to write the eggs with wax. Held over a candle flame, the wax would melt and flow through the finer point of the funnel.

"I have tried every Easter egg kit out there," student Linda Bennett said. "I've tried glitter, swirly, oily kinds. Stenciling. I've tried writing with crayons and didn't have results with that. I'm a perfectionist, and I've got to have the best Easter eggs on the block. So I knew this was for me."

Motioning to her friend next to her, Stephanie Weston, who was using her cell phone to take photographs of her work in progress, Bennett said, "We took the class so we could learn the secrets."

With a laugh, she added, "Our fear is that our husbands were going to eat these eggs when we brought them home. But we just found out they were going to be blown out."

A few tables back, student Jeri Atkin was melting wax over a candle flame. As with the rest of the students, the intimidation of the project lapsed with the help of Zetaruk's simplified instructions.

"When you start you think, 'There's no way,' " Atkin said. "But step by step, it will gradually come to you."

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