Migration—and especially forced migration—often entails the loss of social and financial status, familiar routines, and support networks. We were particularly interested in artists who are also parents, as the integration process takes on entirely different dimensions when children are involved.

Oksana Maslova is a mother of a daughter, a writer, and an active participant in Vienna’s theatre scene. Olena Maiorenko, also a mother—of three—is a painter and art educator. They shared with Office Ukraine how their lives have changed since arriving in Austria.

Interview with Oksana Maslova

How has your position in Austria evolved since you arrived from Ukraine?

Since arriving in Austria, I’ve focused on artistic projects that explore personal transformation and resilience in times of crisis. We are living through a period of intense upheaval, and these experiences can resonate even with those who have never faced such profound change.

In 2023, I completed my poetry performance cycle Temporary Life, which delves into the emotional landscape of Ukrainian refugees. It reflects on the journey of leaving one’s home, the separation from loved ones—some permanently—and the navigation of multiple realities: a shattered world left behind, one reachable only through phone calls, and an unfamiliar new one that must now be rebuilt. Performed in both Ukrainian and English at the Vienna Literature Festival 2023, this work offers an intimate exploration of displacement and adaptation.

My most significant initiative to date has been Young Drama: Exploring New Meanings Laboratory, supported by an Arbeitsstipendium from the “Ukraine-Hilfe” program of the Austrian Ministry of Arts and Culture (BMKÖS). Originally conceived as a dramaturgy workshop, the Laboratory evolved into a vital adaptation project for children who had fled the war—helping them find language, expression, and belonging in a new country.

Thanks to a partnership with DSCHUNGEL WIEN, ten children took part as co-dramaturgs, assistant directors, and actors. Through their creative engagement, they discovered the transformative power of artistic introspection, helping them process personal loss and rebuild meaning. The project culminated in a new play that now enriches contemporary Ukrainian dramatic literature, available in both Ukrainian and German.

 ©Oksana Maslova

Can you share your experiences with employment and artistic activities?

The application process for the Mira-Lobe-Stipendium through BMKOES was clear and well-structured, with detailed guidelines available on the Ministry’s website. One of the key requirements was an Arbeitsprobe—a work sample written in German. Writing it was both a challenge and a joy. It allowed me to fully immerse myself in storytelling and to find ways to express nuances, emotions, and the perspectives of children affected by war.

For me, writing has become a form of survival—not just of the body, but of the soul. I wrote through tears and laughter, drawing from the vivid recollections of conversations with children—their dreams, their silences, their unspoken fears. When I submitted the application, I expected a rejection. In fact, I even looked up polite ways to say “thank you for the opportunity” in German. But to my surprise—and deep gratitude—I was awarded the grant.

You’ve lived in Austria for three years now. How have you managed to learn German so quickly, and how does language work for you as a writer?

I recently completed a C1 German course, supported by the Austrian Integration Fund (ÖIF). For a text to truly resonate, it must be written in the language in which it will be read. Every language carries its own rhythm, logic, and conceptual layers—wordplay is a perfect example.

For me, language is not just a tool—it’s a medium of emotional precision. My writing is emotionally charged, so capturing the nuances matters deeply. At the moment, my process feels like scientific analysis: every word must be precisely chosen.

I was fortunate to meet native speakers in Vienna who helped me understand subtle shifts in meaning. My C1 course instructor, Andrea, was especially insightful. She showed how the meaning of a sentence can transform with a single word change—even between two that seem almost identical.

 ©Dschungel / Özgün Yarar

How has your family situation changed? How did your daughter adapt?

My daughter has learned the language and is now one of the top students in her class. But emotionally, the transition was hard. Many Ukrainian children struggle to make friends while carrying invisible losses and navigating a new culture.

The Young Drama project became a crucial space—not only for expression, but also for rebuilding confidence and connection. Through theatre, the children (including my daughter) could reframe their experiences and find a sense of belonging.

I’m also deeply grateful to organizations that provide free psychological support for Ukrainian children. It’s vital for them to speak to someone outside the family. Mothers—often overwhelmed themselves—can’t always carry the emotional burden of their children alone.

Professionally, I’ve found a home at DSCHUNGEL WIEN, thanks to Artistic Director Marianne Artmann and Director Anna Horn. DSCHUNGEL is a theatre where children and young people are truly heard. Right now, I’m working with Ukrainian teenagers on a new production Guess Who Will Save the World?—a hybrid piece involving video art and puppetry. The premiere is set for May 2024 as part of DSCHUNGEL’s Festival der Theaterwerkstätten 2025. The performance will be in German, which brings both a new challenge and an opportunity: bringing Ukrainian voices to an Austrian audience.

Tickets are already available online:
👉 http://dschungelwien.at/event/verflixt-wer-rettet-die-welt

How do you feel psychologically in this new environment?

I am grateful to everyone who supported me and my daughter—from neighbors who left plants at my door to communities that offered us household items, safety, and kindness.

Still, the psychological burden of war is always present. The loss of loved ones has made it harder to open up—every new connection feels shadowed by the fear of more loss. But I’m deeply thankful for the people who accept me as I am and help me feel that life goes on.

 ©Oksana Maslova

What are your main concerns and challenges at the moment?

My greatest concern is security—not only for Ukraine, but for the world at large. I believe each of us can make a difference, and I trust deeply in the transformative power of art.

Personally, language remains both my greatest challenge and my greatest joy. As a writer, I work with nuance and precision. Mastering German at this level is a slow but meaningful process.

I’m currently seeking new opportunities—projects, collaborations, and positions where I can contribute meaningfully while ensuring stability for my family.

I dream of publishing The Play for 10 Strangers and am currently in discussion with a publisher. I also hope to continue writing for young people and am developing a new project. One of my biggest wishes is to see The Society of Lost Gloves translated into German.

More than anything, I dream of creating an artistic space for teenagers and women—a place where creativity becomes a form of resilience, and where collective storytelling helps us all make sense of the world we’re in.

Interview with Olena Maiorenko

How has your situation in Austria changed since you arrived from Ukraine?

When I first arrived in Austria, everything was new and incredibly difficult—language, paperwork, adapting to daily life. And all of this under the shadow of war. No one planned to leave Ukraine for long. It felt temporary—a week, maybe a month. We were sure the war would end soon, and we’d return home. I came to Vienna with my two children, who were ten and 15 at the time. We deliberately chose Austria because my eldest daughter was already studying at university here.

Of course, I wasn’t prepared for such a drastic shift. My entire life fit into two suitcases. We brought only the essentials. I kept thinking about everything we left behind, but over time, something shifted. There was a kind of internal reset. I realized how much we don’t actually need to be happy. A lot of what I thought was essential turned out to be excess.

Some instinct for survival kicked in—I focused on small steps. I started learning German, and I concentrated on caring for my children. I worried most about my husband, who stayed behind and immediately joined the Ukrainian Armed Forces after getting us to the border.

Over time, I found my footing—found a job, met new people. Now I feel much more confident. I understand how things work here, and I’m able to plan ahead. The move was a huge challenge, but it also opened up new paths for growth and transformation.

 ©Inna Kravchenko

Can you tell us about your work and artistic practice?

I’m a visual artist and drawing teacher. Since 2016, I had my own studio in Kyiv and taught art classes for children at the House of Artists. When I arrived in Austria, I began teaching Ukrainian children in a refugee camp in March 2022—just days after the special refugee law for Ukrainians was passed on March 3rd. Everyone who had arrived before that date was placed in the Traiskirchen camp. That’s where I first understood how essential it was to offer children a way to relax and escape—if only briefly—from their situation.

Even then, I decided to find a space where I could run free art workshops for Ukrainian kids. I wrote about the idea on social media and started looking for opportunities.

We were later relocated to a small town called Opponitz in Lower Austria. It’s incredibly beautiful—mountains, a fast-flowing river—but it felt deserted. You could walk for hours and not meet a soul. We joked that only deer and trout lived there. At night, the lights would quietly glow from the windows of scattered houses.

Getting to Vienna from there took two and a half hours—by bus and two trains—but I kept searching for ways to teach. That’s when I came across a post about a meeting for Ukrainian artists hosted by Office Ukraine. Of course, I didn’t miss it!

I want to express my deep gratitude to the Office Ukraine team. I reached out for help many times, and they always supported me with kindness and generosity.

At that meeting, I connected with wonderful people—many of whom I’m still in contact with today. It was also where I met Hedwig Sachsenhuber, director of the temporary project “Freiraum Ukraine” at MQ21. I told her about my idea, and she generously offered space and materials. That’s how the project began—running from April to July 2022. We painted twice a week with the children, and it was truly magical.

From there, the word spread. I was invited to participate in projects by the Red Cross and Diakonie. Later, I began working at the Ukrainian cultural centre Domivka, where I remained for nearly three years.

Another very meaningful connection was with Ira Tuktareva, a wonderful woman originally from Russia who has lived in Austria for many years. She has done—and continues to do—so much for Ukrainians. I truly admire her kindness, resilience, and determination. We’ve realized several projects together.

All in all, I led a very active volunteer life while continuing to study German. Now, I’m in the process of starting my own business. I’m planning to create a new series of paintings—I finally feel ready. Since the war began, I’ve only created small works, often as gifts. But now, I feel like my path as an artist in Vienna is just beginning. Wish me luck!

 ©Inna Kravchenko

How has your family situation changed? How have your children adapted?

A year and a half ago, my husband joined us in Vienna—this was a real turning point. To be honest, I never imagined we would move abroad. When our eldest daughter first came to university in Vienna, everyone joked that we’d follow. I always denied it. And yet, here we are. Now I believe that Austria offers more possibilities for our children’s future.

The kids’ integration has gone quite well. At first, of course, there were challenges—they didn’t speak the language—but children adapt quickly. They’re both now in a Gymnasium (secondary school). The older one is doing great, while the younger one is still adjusting. I believe it’s better to repeat a year in a stronger school than to transfer to an easier program. They’ve built good relationships with Austrian classmates. Maybe we were lucky with the school community, as I’ve heard other stories. But overall, I’m genuinely impressed with the Austrian education system—the schools are incredibly well-equipped and modern.

As for me, I’ve made many new friends, including Austrians. Before coming, people told me Austrians were reserved and distant. But I’ve met warm, open, and kind-hearted people. Overall, my experience of integration here has been very positive.

 ©Inna Kravchenko

How do you feel psychologically in this new environment?

At first, of course, I was in shock. But then I discovered the secret to a long and happy life in Austria lies in two words: langsam (slow) and kein Stress (no stress).

We come from a culture of constant urgency—where stress is the norm. In Austria, I felt for the first time a deep sense of safety, of having a future. Imagine planning a holiday two years ahead! I’m learning from Austrians. I’ve become calmer, more grounded.

Of course, the emotional impact of war, migration, and the ever-present fear of losing what little is left in Ukraine stays with me. I miss my mother and friends deeply, and I try to visit them as often as possible. We also frequently welcome guests from Ukraine.

What are your current concerns and challenges?

Right now, my biggest challenge is language. Strong German skills are essential to access good, stable jobs. It’s not easy to juggle work and study, but I’m trying to find the right balance.

I feel like I’ve finally chosen a place to land—and like a bird, I’m beginning to gather twigs to build a nest. Step by step, I’m building a life here in Austria.