When Viktor Karachun, a prominent Ukrainian businessman and a cofounder and co-owner of the ATB-Market chain of discount grocery stores, hired the small local studio Koshulynskyy & Mayer to design his house, his passion for vintage automobiles came to light. Designer Karina Mayer, architect Danylo Koshulynskyy, and he were planning the home’s garage when it became clear that Karachun didn’t have just a vehicle or two; he owned over three dozen. His is an extraordinary collection of the finest autos ever produced, from a 1928 Packard to a 2001 Chrysler Prowler, and many are in pristine condition, despite their age, because he seeks out models that have barely been on the road. After Russia invaded Ukraine, Karachun kept these beauties in a warehouse, which he occasionally opened to the public. But while working with Mayer and Koshulynskyy, who’d heretofore specialized in residential projects, the trio began discussing what would become a whole new undertaking: Vik Cars Museum, which opened in Lviv late last year.

Vik Cars Museum Houses A Collection Spanning A Century

It’s no fanciful vanity project. The client made it clear from the outset that he wasn’t interested in a money-draining enterprise, that it should be a self-sustaining business. The kicker? He wanted the museum up and running in 60 days.

With Mayer and Koshulynskyy’s help, Karachun located, then purchased a two-story building that had previously housed retail stores. He put one of his ATB markets on the ground level, leaving the 16,000-square-foot floor above for the museum. An elevator that can carry vehicles weighing up to 3 tons was installed, as was a motorized circular rotating platform, where a single car can be showcased.

Showcasing Vintage Cars In A Gallerylike Setting

Mayer and Koshulynskyy, who too admire cars as design objects—they themselves own a 2017 Porsche they use on weekends and a 2024 Tesla for the workweek—sought to present Karachun’s prized possessions to their best advantage. “They’re time capsules,” begins Mayer, who approached displaying them the same way she does artworks belonging to her residential clients. Here, she formulated a neutral backdrop—black ceiling, white walls, gray poured-concrete flooring—so each model’s sinuous form and gleaming color would stand out. “Our goal was to create a stage for the cars, one where each curve, chrome detail, and reflection would receive maximum attention,” she continues.

Around the perimeter of the rectangular plan, vehicles are organized to highlight their evolution in design and engineering—European cars from post WWII in one area, American cars from the 1960’s in another. The exception to that rule are Karachun’s favorites, the Mercedes, which are grouped by the manufacturer. These eight are the first visitors see when they enter Vik. The fact that the ceiling fixtures Mayer and Koshulynskyy conceived echo the star at the center of the Mercedes logo was a happy accident. “It wasn’t done on purpose,” Mayer notes, “but the client really liked it.”

Red stripes on the floor were a late-breaking addition to the scheme after a preopening event revealed that it was difficult to keep telling visitors to step back from the cars. The stripes—fittingly made with automotive tape—are “the perfect barriers and work like a charm,” Koshulynskyy adds, and allow boundaries to be easily changed when exhibitions are updated.

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