CREATIVE STUDIO
Book a Pysanky Class for Your School

A class in full swing: every student writing an egg of their own.
Some art you hang on a wall. This art begins as an egg in a carton. In a pysanky class, your students take a plain white egg and turn it into a small bright treasure, drawn in beeswax and dyed in colour, using a craft Ukrainian families have handed down for centuries.
I bring everything to your school: the eggs, the dyes, the tools, the candles, and the stories that make the symbols sing. Every student writes an egg of their own and carries it home.
Download the Class Flyer (PDF)
An Ancient Art
Pysanky are older than the cathedrals of Kyiv. Long before Christianity came to Ukraine, women honoured the egg at spring festivals as a sign of life returning to the earth. Winter loosens its grip, the ground bursts open with green, and the egg bursts open with a chick. New life was worth celebrating, and the decorated egg became its picture.
Each design is drawn on the shell in melted beeswax with a small tool called a kistka, the way batik is drawn on cloth. The egg is dipped from the lightest dye to the darkest, with more wax drawn between each bath of colour. When the last dye dries, the wax is melted away beside a candle flame, and the pattern appears like a secret kept safe until the right moment.
Every symbol means something. Wheat speaks of harvest and plenty. The sun and stars speak of life and light. Deer speak of health and strength, fish of faith, flowers of love and beauty, and a line that never breaks speaks of eternity.
The Hutsul people of the Carpathian Mountains tell a story about why this craft matters. They say a terrible serpent lies chained to a cliff, and every year its servants count how many pysanky were written in the world. When the number grows, the chains pull tighter, and good holds its ground for another year. It is only a story, but it carries a true idea: beauty made by hand pushes back the dark.
A finished egg is a keepsake, not a toy and not a snack. The raw egg inside dries away over time, and the painted shell can last for years when it is handled gently. Every egg eventually breaks, and that is part of the teaching too. Eggs were made to break open and release life.

A finished pysanka, its wheat standing for harvest and plenty.
Our Friends from Ukraine

Eugene and Angel with Yehor and Ivan, our friends from Ukraine.
This craft comes to the table with real people we love. Eugene and Angel arrived from Ukraine with their two boys, Yehor and Ivan, and settled here in Canada. We spent a wonderful afternoon together at a picnic in the park, eating good food while the boys played.
Their coming was a village effort. Through a GoFundMe called Let’s Sponsor this Family from Ukraine together, friends pooled what they had so this family of four could start again in Canada, and rebuild Eugene’s little dough sheeter business.
Angel said that being in Canada feels like living in a movie. We feel truly blessed to live here, and even more blessed to be reunited with our dear friends.
The monies raised reach back, too. They help families still in Ukraine, buying supplies from women entrepreneurs there, mothers holding their households together in a hard season. Every egg written here carries their colours as well.
Ivan decided quickly that we were friends too. He is my new little bestie.
When your students write a pysanka, they are holding a piece of Ukraine in their hands: its art, its hope, and its welcome.

Ivan at our picnic in the park, donut in hand.
What Happens in a Class
First, pencil lines divide the egg into sections, making a map for the design.
The kistka is warmed over a candle flame and filled with beeswax, and the first lines are drawn. Whatever the wax covers stays white.
The egg takes a bath in yellow dye. More wax seals in the yellow wherever it belongs in the design.
Then come the deeper colours, red and finally black, with fresh wax drawn between each bath to protect the colour underneath.
Last comes the reveal, the moment every student waits for. The egg is held beside the flame, the wax melts and wipes away with a soft cloth, and the finished design shines out.
A coat of shellac gives the egg its glow, and home it goes, a keepsake made by their own hands. The little imperfections are part of the art. They are what make the egg real.
Star designs on every desk, candles lit, eggs in hand.
Your students follow the same path pysanky artists have always walked, one colour at a time.

Heads bent close over the eggs, writing by candlelight.
From a Real Classroom
These photographs come from a real class table: design sheets open, candles lit, eggs in hand. This is what your classroom will look like.

First, the design is planned on paper.

Measuring the egg is math you can hold.
Everything Is Provided
I pack the whole studio and bring it with me:
- Glass jars of dye in every colour
- A kistka in sizes for small hands and big ones
- Beeswax and candles
- A raw egg for every student, plus spares for the brave
- Pencils, measuring strips and scissors
- Gloves and paper towel for the beautifully messy parts
Your school provides the tables and the students. I provide the rest.

Dyes, kistka, beeswax and eggs: everything a class needs.

Class supplies packed and ready to travel.
Good to Know
Classes are for grades 4 to 12, taught in person at your school.
Raw eggs are used, just as tradition asks. Finished pysanky are keepsakes, never food.
Candle steps are closely supervised, always.
Every class is shaped to your group. Tell me your grade, your numbers and your dates in the form below, and we will plan it together.
Pysanky season shines brightest before Easter, and classes run all year.
Pysanky fits the school day beautifully: pattern and symmetry from math, careful watching from science, and a living piece of Ukrainian culture for social studies and art.

The table is set before a class begins.

A finished pysanka, drawn in wax and dyed lightest to darkest.

A variety of pysanky, ready to inspire a class.
Book a Class
Tell me about your school and your students, and I will write back to plan your class. Every request comes straight to my desk, and I read every message myself.
Finished in class, and carried home with pride.

A blank egg on an embroidered cloth, waiting for its story.
