Kristina Pashkina, a documentary photographer from Kharkiv, a new member of the Ukrainian Association of Professional Photographers, talks about her journey in photography, the challenges of war and new creative projects that reflect the life of Ukrainians in difficult times. How did her work and her own change during the full-scale invasion, and why is it important to continue telling stories through photographs?
Christina says that her love for photography began as a child. The first memorable shoot took place when she was only six years old: “I remember very clearly how I photographed my father. This was the first such photo, and it still remains very dear to me. Then they gave me a camera and a black and white film: they said, here's your camera, come on, take it — let's show it and see what happened there.”
However, the professional fascination with photography came much later, during his studies at the university. “When I was at university, I was 18 and I thought, 'Why not try learning to film again? '” Little by little I began to enter this field again. And since 2010, I completely immersed myself in photography. Since then, my “photo life” began, photo projects appeared, and we even created our own community,” she shares.
Before the Russian invasion, Kristina was actively engaged in documentary and reportage photography, telling the stories of Kharkov through the lens. She recalls: “Sometime since 2014, I started working for Kharkiv media, as well as for Ukrainian publications. I did reportorial photography, but was paid very little for it, so I gradually switched to commercial photography, although my own creative projects have always remained important to me.”
One of these projects was a project that Kristina shot just before the invasion. “In January 2022, I did a small project “Demons rise when I give up”, which resonates very much to me now. It was a game of light and colors, with such purple-blue hues. When I look at these shots, it seems that even then there was some tension, suffocation. It was like a reflection on events that had not yet happened, but were already approaching,” the photographer notes.
Before the war began, Kristina thought that her journey in reportage photography was over. But with the invasion, everything changed. “Did I ever think I'd go back to reporting? No! Did she want to? - Yes! I started working as a photojournalist sometime in 2013. But that was fun. Then I was very envious of those who filmed the events during the Revolution of Dignity. I wanted too, but there was too little experience, not enough spirit. It always seemed to me that I was missing the moment to grow professionally. Over the next few years, I believed that I had never shot anything really significant. It flickered in me like a ghost of lost opportunity.”
The photographer draws attention to the disdain for reportage photography in the commercial environment: “Often, reportage shooting in the field of commerce is treated as the simplest genre that anyone with an iPhone can handle. But I always sincerely loved the reporting genre and dreamed of someday getting a chance, to shoot something substantial.”
With the beginning of the full-scale invasion in February 2022, Kristina decided that it was her duty to record what was happening around her. “On February 24, I realized that I would shoot everything. I carried my camera with me everywhere because I realized that I was living at a very important moment in history, and my only weapon was a camera. I didn't know what would come out of these shots, but I felt like I had to keep shooting,” she recalls.
In the end, Kristina realized that she was doing what she had to: “They say that when you do what you love, you eventually end up where you should be. In two months, my photos of Kharkov were in more countries than me. I filmed reports about the lives of doctors in the perinatal center, the lives of people in the subway, the life of volunteers, my life. Then, for the first time in a long time, I felt that I was where I needed to be and that my work was worth something.”
Her photos quickly began to attract attention not only in Ukraine, but also abroad. Over time, Kristina's work was published in Japanese, Polish and French media. In addition, her photographs took part in exhibitions, in particular in Vilnius, where they raised money for Kharkov with the help of pictures.
Today Kristina is working on several documentary projects. One of them is “Families of War”, which tells about families who stayed in Kharkiv during the war. “I photographed many families during the invasion, and at some point I began to notice similar moments in the visual representation of these stories. I want to explore these experiences, which, although different, have a lot in common,” she explains.
Another project — “Surrounded by scattered air currents” — is related to the photographer's mother: “It is about the search and return of Ukrainian identity. My mother was born in Kharkov, and then she and her parents were sent to Yakutsk. Now she is learning Ukrainian, we went to the city in the Poltava region, where her grandmother comes from. This story is very personal, but there are many like it.”
The project “Obliviana by Distinct Air Flows” is dedicated to the study of the identity of Ukrainians in border regions, where the influence of neighboring countries, in particular Russia, is particularly acute. The photographer seeks to show that Ukrainians and Russians are different peoples, and the history of connected families, especially on the border, was artificially created. “My project aims to show how Ukrainians are returning their stolen identity, and the world should hear our voices,” Kristina explains.
The project is based on the study of family archives and their own family history, which is a reflection of the collective colonial trauma that has long been silent. Through her photographs, Kristina shows the path to finding her own national identity, which other Ukrainians can go through.
Half a year before the full-scale invasion, Kristina Pashkina was one step short of leaving photography. She recalls how she walked through the hot streets of Odessa and thought about giving up creativity and going to work in the office. “I was on an emotional and mental day, even sending resumes to different companies. Looking back, I am glad that this idea did not come to fruition,” the photographer admits.
Then she felt that she was approaching an important stage of growth, but still shot, as before. “Our mind is ahead of action, and at this point it is easy to give up. But if you do not stop, you can reach a new level,” Kristina explains. Today she works with UNICEF and her photos are published on international platforms, and almost three years ago Kristina still doubted her abilities.
She considers the crisis of that time a path to growth: “I lost my inner voice, shot only what was ordered, and paid almost no attention to creative shooting. But a lot of work on yourself helped spread your wings and regain confidence in your own vision.”
Working with documentary projects during the war, according to the photographer, is a moral and physical challenge. “Sometimes it's so hard that after filming you come home and just fall. It is especially difficult to work with the stories of children affected by war. But I never thought I wanted to walk away from this business. It's important and I have to do it,” Kristina shares her experiences.
One source of inspiration for her is the idea that her work can make an impact on the world: “Each picture can help draw attention to the war in Ukraine, for example, through exhibitions abroad. Recently there was an exhibition in Hungary where my photos were combined with children's drawings, and I feel that this is my contribution.”
One of the important events for Kristina is the shooting in the Kharkov metro at the beginning of the invasion. “I really wanted to capture how people live there. But it was difficult to get permission to shoot. When I was finally allowed, I was extremely happy. This project remains very special for me,” she says.
Especially touching was the story about the photo that ended up on the cover of TIME magazine. “It was a portrait of the chief doctor of the Kharkov perinatal center. I shot it for David Beckham's social media pages to raise funds to help Ukraine. And then I saw her portrait on the cover next to Volodymyr Zelensky,” Kristina recalls. “It was a very sad story, and when I found out that my photo was chosen for the cover of TIME, I just cried.”
Kristina Pashkina continues to work on her projects, using photography as a tool to capture the stories of life, hope and struggle of Ukrainians. Her works are exhibited around the world, drawing attention to the war in Ukraine and the fate of the people who remained in the country.
“My task is to show that even in the most difficult moments, life goes on. My photos are about life that does not stop, despite everything,” Kristina concludes.
Kristina Pashkina— independent photographer, teacher and researcher of photography. He has been in the profession for 14 years. She produces documentary stories, social projects in support of women and the LGBTQ+ community, reporting, creative photography; collaborates with international organizations such as UNICEF and the UN FAO. Kristina has been published in TIME magazine, Forbs and other foreign local media. I teach courses in photography of my own development at two universities and I am engaged in mentoring young photographers. Social networks of the photographer.
The material was worked on:
Researcher of the topic, author of the text: Vera Labych
Bildeditor: Vyacheslav Ratynskyi
Literary Editor: Julia Foutei
Site Manager: Vladislav Kuhar
Kristina Pashkina, a documentary photographer from Kharkiv, a new member of the Ukrainian Association of Professional Photographers, talks about her journey in photography, the challenges of war and new creative projects that reflect the life of Ukrainians in difficult times. How did her work and her own change during the full-scale invasion, and why is it important to continue telling stories through photographs?
Christina says that her love for photography began as a child. The first memorable shoot took place when she was only six years old: “I remember very clearly how I photographed my father. This was the first such photo, and it still remains very dear to me. Then they gave me a camera and a black and white film: they said, here's your camera, come on, take it — let's show it and see what happened there.”
However, the professional fascination with photography came much later, during his studies at the university. “When I was at university, I was 18 and I thought, 'Why not try learning to film again? '” Little by little I began to enter this field again. And since 2010, I completely immersed myself in photography. Since then, my “photo life” began, photo projects appeared, and we even created our own community,” she shares.
Before the Russian invasion, Kristina was actively engaged in documentary and reportage photography, telling the stories of Kharkov through the lens. She recalls: “Sometime since 2014, I started working for Kharkiv media, as well as for Ukrainian publications. I did reportorial photography, but was paid very little for it, so I gradually switched to commercial photography, although my own creative projects have always remained important to me.”
One of these projects was a project that Kristina shot just before the invasion. “In January 2022, I did a small project “Demons rise when I give up”, which resonates very much to me now. It was a game of light and colors, with such purple-blue hues. When I look at these shots, it seems that even then there was some tension, suffocation. It was like a reflection on events that had not yet happened, but were already approaching,” the photographer notes.
Before the war began, Kristina thought that her journey in reportage photography was over. But with the invasion, everything changed. “Did I ever think I'd go back to reporting? No! Did she want to? - Yes! I started working as a photojournalist sometime in 2013. But that was fun. Then I was very envious of those who filmed the events during the Revolution of Dignity. I wanted too, but there was too little experience, not enough spirit. It always seemed to me that I was missing the moment to grow professionally. Over the next few years, I believed that I had never shot anything really significant. It flickered in me like a ghost of lost opportunity.”
The photographer draws attention to the disdain for reportage photography in the commercial environment: “Often, reportage shooting in the field of commerce is treated as the simplest genre that anyone with an iPhone can handle. But I always sincerely loved the reporting genre and dreamed of someday getting a chance, to shoot something substantial.”
With the beginning of the full-scale invasion in February 2022, Kristina decided that it was her duty to record what was happening around her. “On February 24, I realized that I would shoot everything. I carried my camera with me everywhere because I realized that I was living at a very important moment in history, and my only weapon was a camera. I didn't know what would come out of these shots, but I felt like I had to keep shooting,” she recalls.
In the end, Kristina realized that she was doing what she had to: “They say that when you do what you love, you eventually end up where you should be. In two months, my photos of Kharkov were in more countries than me. I filmed reports about the lives of doctors in the perinatal center, the lives of people in the subway, the life of volunteers, my life. Then, for the first time in a long time, I felt that I was where I needed to be and that my work was worth something.”
Her photos quickly began to attract attention not only in Ukraine, but also abroad. Over time, Kristina's work was published in Japanese, Polish and French media. In addition, her photographs took part in exhibitions, in particular in Vilnius, where they raised money for Kharkov with the help of pictures.
Today Kristina is working on several documentary projects. One of them is “Families of War”, which tells about families who stayed in Kharkiv during the war. “I photographed many families during the invasion, and at some point I began to notice similar moments in the visual representation of these stories. I want to explore these experiences, which, although different, have a lot in common,” she explains.
Another project — “Surrounded by scattered air currents” — is related to the photographer's mother: “It is about the search and return of Ukrainian identity. My mother was born in Kharkov, and then she and her parents were sent to Yakutsk. Now she is learning Ukrainian, we went to the city in the Poltava region, where her grandmother comes from. This story is very personal, but there are many like it.”
The project “Obliviana by Distinct Air Flows” is dedicated to the study of the identity of Ukrainians in border regions, where the influence of neighboring countries, in particular Russia, is particularly acute. The photographer seeks to show that Ukrainians and Russians are different peoples, and the history of connected families, especially on the border, was artificially created. “My project aims to show how Ukrainians are returning their stolen identity, and the world should hear our voices,” Kristina explains.
The project is based on the study of family archives and their own family history, which is a reflection of the collective colonial trauma that has long been silent. Through her photographs, Kristina shows the path to finding her own national identity, which other Ukrainians can go through.
Half a year before the full-scale invasion, Kristina Pashkina was one step short of leaving photography. She recalls how she walked through the hot streets of Odessa and thought about giving up creativity and going to work in the office. “I was on an emotional and mental day, even sending resumes to different companies. Looking back, I am glad that this idea did not come to fruition,” the photographer admits.
Then she felt that she was approaching an important stage of growth, but still shot, as before. “Our mind is ahead of action, and at this point it is easy to give up. But if you do not stop, you can reach a new level,” Kristina explains. Today she works with UNICEF and her photos are published on international platforms, and almost three years ago Kristina still doubted her abilities.
She considers the crisis of that time a path to growth: “I lost my inner voice, shot only what was ordered, and paid almost no attention to creative shooting. But a lot of work on yourself helped spread your wings and regain confidence in your own vision.”
Working with documentary projects during the war, according to the photographer, is a moral and physical challenge. “Sometimes it's so hard that after filming you come home and just fall. It is especially difficult to work with the stories of children affected by war. But I never thought I wanted to walk away from this business. It's important and I have to do it,” Kristina shares her experiences.
One source of inspiration for her is the idea that her work can make an impact on the world: “Each picture can help draw attention to the war in Ukraine, for example, through exhibitions abroad. Recently there was an exhibition in Hungary where my photos were combined with children's drawings, and I feel that this is my contribution.”
One of the important events for Kristina is the shooting in the Kharkov metro at the beginning of the invasion. “I really wanted to capture how people live there. But it was difficult to get permission to shoot. When I was finally allowed, I was extremely happy. This project remains very special for me,” she says.
Especially touching was the story about the photo that ended up on the cover of TIME magazine. “It was a portrait of the chief doctor of the Kharkov perinatal center. I shot it for David Beckham's social media pages to raise funds to help Ukraine. And then I saw her portrait on the cover next to Volodymyr Zelensky,” Kristina recalls. “It was a very sad story, and when I found out that my photo was chosen for the cover of TIME, I just cried.”
Kristina Pashkina continues to work on her projects, using photography as a tool to capture the stories of life, hope and struggle of Ukrainians. Her works are exhibited around the world, drawing attention to the war in Ukraine and the fate of the people who remained in the country.
“My task is to show that even in the most difficult moments, life goes on. My photos are about life that does not stop, despite everything,” Kristina concludes.
Kristina Pashkina— independent photographer, teacher and researcher of photography. He has been in the profession for 14 years. She produces documentary stories, social projects in support of women and the LGBTQ+ community, reporting, creative photography; collaborates with international organizations such as UNICEF and the UN FAO. Kristina has been published in TIME magazine, Forbs and other foreign local media. I teach courses in photography of my own development at two universities and I am engaged in mentoring young photographers. Social networks of the photographer.
The material was worked on:
Researcher of the topic, author of the text: Vera Labych
Bildeditor: Vyacheslav Ratynskyi
Literary Editor: Julia Foutei
Site Manager: Vladislav Kuhar
UAPP is an independent association of professional Ukrainian photographers, designed to protect their interests, support, develop and promote Ukrainian photography as an important element of national culture.
UAPP's activities span educational, social, research and cultural initiatives, as well as book publishing.
UAPP represents Ukrainian professional photography in the international photographic community and is an official member of the Federation of European Photographers (FEP) — an international organization representing more than 50,000 professional photographers in Europe and other countries around the world.
