Stories from My Trip to Frankivsk (Part 2)

Hello, friends and strangers. Today I am sharing the second part of the photo stories from my recent trip to the city where I was born and spent most of my life, until I met my current husband and moved to Kyiv.

Until 1962, the city of Ivano-Frankivsk was called Stanislav. That was what people called it when it was part of Austria-Hungary and during the first decades of the Soviet occupation. The original name of the city is Stanyslaviv. It was named that way from the moment of its founding in 1662 by the Polish magnate Andrzej Potocki in honor of his eldest son, Stanisław.

Now we call it by its abbreviated name—Frankivsk, or Franyk.

I had long wanted to walk its streets on a random route, without a specific goal and without hurrying. To look closely at the buildings I had passed a million times on my way to work or running errands. I used to look at the signs and the passersby, but I never stopped to look up and examine the details. This time, I turned on tourist mode. Look at how these buildings differ from Kyiv's old urban architecture. It looks more like Kraków, just less pompous.

I hadn't noticed before that quite a few old buildings in the center were built in 1910. Like this building above—May 31, 1910.

While walking around, I dared to step through the archway of one of the buildings. The wrought-iron gates were unlocked. I had no idea what I would find inside, but my intuition didn't let me down. I was greeted by a cozy courtyard and a beautiful entryway interior.

Thanks to Google, I later learned that this three-story stone building was erected in 1896, commissioned by a wealthy Frankivsk miller, Oziash Blumenfeld. In the early 20th century, it housed the prestigious "Grand" café, where the local elite would gather for a cup of coffee and a game of billiards.

Besides the inner courtyard with its wooden gallery, the highlight of the stone building is the painted ceiling medallion. A delicate central rosette, approached by a massive staircase, frescoes with floral ornaments, and original colors. As you can see, all of this is in a neglected state and in urgent need of professional restoration.

Gathering my courage, I opened yet another massive wooden door of an old building. It was two stories high. It turned out that this one had also belonged to Blumenfeld. Inside, I saw another painted ceiling in the entryway, done in the neo-Baroque style.

It was so exciting! I turned the corner. The first entryway was locked—no luck there. But the next one wasn't. I called it the "house with the deer," but its historical name is the Gottesman tenement.

The three-story residential building was constructed in 1901–1902 as an apartment building commissioned by Antoniy Dzendzelevych, a well-known local lawyer and city council member. Later, Hersh Gottesman became the owner of the tenement.

Right behind the entrance door of the entryway, the floor is decorated with a "path" laid out in tile. And what gorgeous winding Secessionist stairs (the style known in Austria-Hungary, particularly in Galicia, as Art Nouveau)!

The deer is best admired from above.