Preserving heritage through clay: Natalia Suprun and the revival of the Ukrainian Mazanka

Ukraine is undergoing a profound transformation. Amid the pressures of war and occupation, the nation is defending not only its sovereignty but also its cultural continuity — its architecture, traditions, and material heritage. Among the most symbolic embodiments of this resilience are mazankas — vernacular, eco-friendly houses constructed from locally sourced, natural materials such as clay, straw, and lime.

Beyond their ethnographic significance, mazankas represent a resistance model for contemporary reconstruction: they are thermally efficient, affordable, and quick to assemble, often within a single season, using resources literally drawn from the earth beneath one’s feet. Their materials — humble yet universal — are available across nearly all regions of Ukraine, making them both sustainable and culturally rooted.

Film director and writer Natalia Suprun, the owner of three mazankas in different parts of the country, reflects on ecological construction, the challenges of female builders, and the usability of traditional materials — even those as unexpected as horse manure.

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Natalia’s story begins with a sense of longing — and loss.

“I always knew that I would buy a mazanka in Crimea, somewhere near the cliffs. I waited, I traveled, I grew older — and then russia occupied Crimea. After that, I lived in different cities. But the thought became obsessive: if I buy a mazanka, maybe I’ll feel at home again.”

With limited funds, she purchased her first mazanka for $1,000 in Cherkasy oblast — in a forested village she had never seen before.

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Her first summer was one of enthusiasm and confrontation — with nature, with local skepticism, and with her own expectations.

“I was already environmentally conscious and short on money. So I searched for local, ecological methods of repair. I asked the neighbors, and they said: ‘Tear down that mazanka and build a normal house — from cinder blocks.’”

The combination of inexperience and harsh conditions soon tested her resolve.

“Inside, I made it beautiful. But outside… I dismantled part of a wall and found the supporting beams rotten and cracked. I sat down and cried. That was the end of my first mazanka season. I thought: maybe I’m not ready yet.”

Later, in the United States, Natalia’s engagement with Mazanka architecture took on new depth. She encountered practitioners of earthen construction and began studying sustainable building techniques.

“I learned about proportions, how to prevent moisture, cracking, and collapse. And with this knowledge, I knew: I need another mazanka.”

Returning to Ukraine, she bought a second house — again in the Cherkasy region, near her first.

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“Let me clarify one thing right away: a Mazanka is not made of ‘sticks and dung.’ That’s a stereotype.”

Traditional Ukrainian Mazankas are diverse in structure and technique. Some consist solely of clay and straw; others integrate wooden frames or use straw-bale infill systems. Contemporary builders often adapt these vernacular principles with modern ecological methods.

Natalia typically works with:

• straw
  
• lime
  
• white clay
  
• sand
  
• horse manure — a key ingredient in the so-called “lazy plaster”
  
  

While manure can be substituted with other natural binders, Natalia notes its practical value:

“To avoid any smell, I pour boiling water over it and work immediately. If left overnight, there’s a faint odor — but it fades quickly. It’s not an issue.”

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Natalia now builds using what she considers the most balanced method: a straw-bale structure coated with clay plaster.

“There’s a stereotype that mazankas are cold and fragile. But that comes from seeing neglected homes that decayed during the Soviet years. When built correctly and maintained, a mazanka can last for generations without constant repair.”

She highlights the advantages clearly: ecological and non-toxic, cost-efficient and locally sourced, excellent thermal performance, fully biodegradable, and producing no construction waste.

“You can build a home that, after a century, simply returns to the earth. It harms no one. It leaves no trace — only soil.”

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Natalia has been renovating homes since she was 18 years old. Yet gendered perceptions persist.

“Once, in a hardware store, someone asked: ‘Who sent you here alone, little girl?’ I was 30. Sometimes men walk by my site, see me working, and wait for a man to answer their questions. Maybe it’s confidence. Maybe it’s resilience. Or maybe society really is changing.”

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When I bought my first one, there was nothing fashionable about it. Now the demand has exploded. I’m sure this will grow further — just as natural building movements did in Canada and the U.S.”

For Natalia, Mazankas are no longer relics of the past but prototypes for a sustainable Ukrainian future — architecture as continuity, resistance, and regeneration.

Natalia’s plans reflect a fusion of heritage and innovation:

• A guidebook, How to Find Your Ideal Mazanka.
  
• An online educational course on Mazanka construction, co-developed with another eco-builder and a residency owner in Zakarpattia.
  
• The restoration of her grandmother’s 100-year-old home in the Poltava region, transforming it into a creative and recovery residency for writers, veterans, and artists.

“It’s a project of returning to the roots, — a personal and national architecture of renewal.”