Photographer Yurko Dyachyshyn's reflection on the first day of the full-scale invasion
On 24 February 2022, photographer Yurko Dyachyshyn was in his hometown of Lviv. He did not believe in the possibility of a full-scale war.
"I woke up at night. My wife was reading the news on her smartphone and told me the war had started. I rolled over, saying it was fake news, and I would see everything in the morning," Yurko says. Once it became clear that the war had begun, He began to read the news. "I was sick and out of shape. But my reporter's reflex kicked in. So, I packed my camera, dressed, and sat in the hallway in my clothes, expecting explosions or an air raid or something, and then the first air alert went off," the photographer recalls.
Yurko Dyachyshyn joined AFP in 2009. He got a call from one of his editors at around six in the morning and headed out searching for stories. In Lviv, there was the first wave of panic: everyone was going somewhere and there were huge queues at ATMs and petrol stations. Yurko and his wife decided not to leave Lviv and didn't even pack their bug-out bags.
Yurko spent the following days photographing. Donors at the blood centre, the first teams of volunteers, the arrival of evacuation trains at the station, people leaving for other countries, refugee families being sheltered in gyms and theatres, camouflage netting and other activities in the rear.
About two weeks after the full Russian invasion began, the first burials of fallen soldiers began to take place in Lviv. "The first time I took part in a funeral was at the beginning of March 2022. It was very difficult and I told myself I would never go to such a shoot again. But the very next day I was already shooting another funeral," says Yurko. He explains that in the early days there was no "excitement" or emotion involved in working, nor was there any thought of making a project about war or reflecting on the subject. Yurko didn't even keep the photos in separate folders, as he had done before.
A few weeks later, his colleagues organized charity auctions and exhibitions abroad. They were asking for photos. "This motivated me to look at my photos differently, as they could raise money for the military and all those in need," says Dyachyshyn.
Until 24 February 2022, the photographer worked on many creative projects. He had many plans for exhibitions. "When the war broke out, I completely lost my desire to create and create art, what made sense disappeared," says Diachyshyn. There were attempts to continue the projects. The photographer even agreed to hold an exhibition called Carpathian Shepherds in the summer of 2022.
One of Yurko Dyachyshyn's latest creative series is the War Nouveau project, a kind of fictional architectural style (a play on the words war and art nouveau). "War Nouveau represents protective sandbags. They are now part of the new urban landscape as a permanent architectural form that surrounds us. "There is a saying: 'Everything that is postponed now is automatically lost'. I took it as a motto, which makes me try to think and do something creative," says Yuriy Dyachyshyn.
Read also: 9 Ukrainian photographers share and show how the great invasion began
Photographer Yurko Dyachyshyn's reflection on the first day of the full-scale invasion
On 24 February 2022, photographer Yurko Dyachyshyn was in his hometown of Lviv. He did not believe in the possibility of a full-scale war.
"I woke up at night. My wife was reading the news on her smartphone and told me the war had started. I rolled over, saying it was fake news, and I would see everything in the morning," Yurko says. Once it became clear that the war had begun, He began to read the news. "I was sick and out of shape. But my reporter's reflex kicked in. So, I packed my camera, dressed, and sat in the hallway in my clothes, expecting explosions or an air raid or something, and then the first air alert went off," the photographer recalls.
Yurko Dyachyshyn joined AFP in 2009. He got a call from one of his editors at around six in the morning and headed out searching for stories. In Lviv, there was the first wave of panic: everyone was going somewhere and there were huge queues at ATMs and petrol stations. Yurko and his wife decided not to leave Lviv and didn't even pack their bug-out bags.
Yurko spent the following days photographing. Donors at the blood centre, the first teams of volunteers, the arrival of evacuation trains at the station, people leaving for other countries, refugee families being sheltered in gyms and theatres, camouflage netting and other activities in the rear.
About two weeks after the full Russian invasion began, the first burials of fallen soldiers began to take place in Lviv. "The first time I took part in a funeral was at the beginning of March 2022. It was very difficult and I told myself I would never go to such a shoot again. But the very next day I was already shooting another funeral," says Yurko. He explains that in the early days there was no "excitement" or emotion involved in working, nor was there any thought of making a project about war or reflecting on the subject. Yurko didn't even keep the photos in separate folders, as he had done before.
A few weeks later, his colleagues organized charity auctions and exhibitions abroad. They were asking for photos. "This motivated me to look at my photos differently, as they could raise money for the military and all those in need," says Dyachyshyn.
Until 24 February 2022, the photographer worked on many creative projects. He had many plans for exhibitions. "When the war broke out, I completely lost my desire to create and create art, what made sense disappeared," says Diachyshyn. There were attempts to continue the projects. The photographer even agreed to hold an exhibition called Carpathian Shepherds in the summer of 2022.
One of Yurko Dyachyshyn's latest creative series is the War Nouveau project, a kind of fictional architectural style (a play on the words war and art nouveau). "War Nouveau represents protective sandbags. They are now part of the new urban landscape as a permanent architectural form that surrounds us. "There is a saying: 'Everything that is postponed now is automatically lost'. I took it as a motto, which makes me try to think and do something creative," says Yuriy Dyachyshyn.
Read also: 9 Ukrainian photographers share and show how the great invasion began
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