In early August 2024, columns of Ukrainian military equipment crossed the border with the Russian Federation in Sumy region. Reports of a breach of the border appeared on August 6, 2024 in the Kremlin media, which claimed that the Armed Forces entered the Sudzhansky district of the Kursk region. On August 12, President of Ukraine Vladimir Zelensky confirmed the operation of the Defense Forces in the Kursk region, emphasizing that its goal is to liberate the border territories of Ukraine from Russian troops who regularly shelled the Sumy region.
Photojournalist Vyacheslav Ratynskyi for 10 days he documented the situation on the border regions of Sumy, recording the evacuation of the local population, the columns of Ukrainian vehicles heading to the territory of the aggressor state, the consequences of shelling by Russian cabs, and also explained why he himself did not go to Russia with the Ukrainian military.
Vyacheslav Ratinsky was shooting Khmelnytsky NPP when he learned about the offensive of the Armed Forces on Kurshchina. He hesitated whether to go to the Russian-Ukrainian border in Sumy region to document the historical event.
“I thought it would be a situation similar to the march of the RDC (Russian Volunteer Corps — ed.) in the Belgorod region. They will come and go. But every day events began to develop more and more actively, and I decided to look for a way to get there,” says Vyacheslav. “My colleague from Reuters, who was also going to go there, contacted me. Together we went to the border villages with the NGO “East SOS”, which was engaged in the evacuation of the local population.”
The Russians are shelling Ukrainian border villages daily with guided air bombs. There were a lot of people willing to leave that morning.
“In the morning we were called from East SOS and said that there were two buses - 40 people wanted to leave after the shelling of Kabul. We asked permission to join them because we were worried that they would not miss us ourselves. However, “East SOS” refused, as the priority was to remove civilians. We were offered to go by our own transport to also help with the evacuation of people. We left and successfully crossed all the checkpoints,” Vyacheslav recalls.
During the evacuation of civilians, the work of Russian artillery was heard. People converged on the evacuation site with pets and small bags. Some were drunk.
Vyacheslav hoped to shoot only the evacuation of civilians, so the fact that he managed to communicate and capture the military was a great success: “When we saw the military, we were very happy. It was a pleasant surprise, because there were times before when we negotiated with the command about work, for example, in Robotyne in the South, but at the checkpoints we were not missed any further.”
The photographer admits that, apart from a large number of military equipment and well-equipped soldiers, he has not seen the Ukrainian military in such a high mood for a long time: “They go to fulfill their mission, they win!”
During these 10 days in Sumy region, Vyacheslav met many people and recorded many stories. About one of the episodes he remembered, the photographer said: “We drive along the highway and see a large SAU, we decided to overtake it. Just set the sun, the rays of light broke through the dust on the road. On the howitzer sat a stocky bearded guy waving at us into the camera. We stopped, and one of the soldiers said, “Everything is fine! Moving forward! Kursk NPP will soon be ours!” Their positive attitude was felt in the air. However, later other military said that the situation in Kurshchina had become more complicated.”
During these days, Western media actively published photos of Vyacheslav from Sumy region — the Armed Forces of Ukraine appeared on their front pages.
“This is good, because the Ukrainian army is again appearing in the Western media as a strong army,” Vyacheslav shares. - The military themselves said that they were encouraged by the Kursk operation. After all, for a long time we heard only sad news: about death, failure, suffering. And this attack reminded them themselves that they are capable of more! It really lifted the spirit of the boys.”
The military explained that the official work of journalists near the border is prohibited: they can neither mention nor comment on any actions of the military, in particular in the Kursk region. However, photojournalist Vyacheslav Ratinsky says that he still managed to get to the border territory of Sumy region: “Although we wrote a request, we did not receive any answer. At least the command knew we were here. Work seemed to be banned, but they did not interfere, for the first time I see this. We worried every day that we could be detained, stripped of accreditation or punished in some way.”
The next day, the photographers again decided to go to shoot the military. They tried to find volunteers to accompany them, but to no avail, so they went at their own risk. The trip went well, but one day they and a colleague were detained and searched, forced to remove the footage.
“We passed through checkpoints where we were not even stopped, not once during these days we had our documents checked. Except for one episode when we almost had our equipment taken away.”
Vyacheslav emphasizes that he worked very carefully so as not to harm the Defense Forces:
“I always shot so as not to harm the military. The main thing for me was and remains to do no harm. I would not like my photos to be able to identify the area where the Armed Forces are moving, or what roads they are driving on.”
“We worked quite confidently and openly, as Ukrainian troops advanced far beyond the border,” the photojournalist says. “There were no FPV drones, artillery or mortar shelling in these villages, so we felt relatively safe. However, the threat was posed by numerous CABs. There were many of them, and it always caused fear. A loud sound that cannot be forgotten. We have seen the consequences of airstrikes in these settlements: houses destroyed, farms bombed.”
“We were the first journalists who got to the checkpoint on the state border and filmed the Ukrainian military there,” explains Vyacheslav. “If we wanted to, we could press on the gas at the checkpoint and go straight to Russia, and probably no one would have stopped us. But we were held back by several reasons.”
First, Vyacheslav's car did not have any identification marks, so the Ukrainian military could take it for an enemy DRG and destroy it. Secondly, crossing the border, even during hostilities, is illegal.
Vyacheslav says: “I remember well that in 2014, during the fighting in Donbas and the annexation of Crimea, it was painful and unpleasant for me to see how six foreign photographers from well-known photo agencies presented the project “Another Crimea”. Among them was the Russian photographer Yuri Kozyrev or Georgy Pinkhasov, whom I still respected at that time. They went to Crimea and created propaganda material about what the peninsula looks like now.
It was horrible. Ukrainian colleagues then said that this was unethical, shameful, illegal and violates Ukraine's sovereignty. I always mention this story when I think about whether it is worth crossing the border and going to Russia, even if we are officially offered. We journalists work not only to collect and disseminate information, but also to defend values, to show what is right and what is not. We cannot make decisions emotionally, even if we really want to. As a person, I too would like to go to Sudja and see what happens there, but I find it unethical.
Along with the desire to show what is happening on the territory of the Russian Federation, this issue also has a reverse side: the situation with the border crossing reflects the actions of the Russians who entered our villages and cities together with journalists, removed the tearing down of Ukrainian flags, etc. We had a discussion about this with colleagues. I was told, “What about the journalists who went into Iraq with American troops? Or a similar situation in Kosovo or Serbia in the 90s?” This question is complicated. It contains not only a professional, but also a moral dilemma. If we do not raise the relevant discussion now, at least in the professional circle, they will forget about it.”
Vyacheslav emphasizes that he had no desire to take revenge on the Russians by their own methods. According to him, Ukrainians should be morally and valuably superior to their enemies: “Only in this way can Ukrainians win. Asymmetric actions. Otherwise, why fight? What do we want to prove? That we are no different from them?!”
Vyacheslav Ratynskyi — Ukrainian documentary photographer and photojournalist. He has been working in the field of photojournalism for more than 10 years. Collaborates with international and Ukrainian news agencies and media, including Reuters, The Guardian, Le Monde, Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazine and others. He has been published in many Western and Ukrainian media, including The Time, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, The Telegraph, The New York Times, El Pais, Der Spiegel and others.
Participant in many photo exhibitions in Europe, USA, Japan and South Korea. His photographs have been published in several books. Vyacheslav Ratinsky works in Ukraine. In his work, the photographer explores the impact of war on society, social and political problems.
Social networks:Facebook, Instagram
In early August 2024, columns of Ukrainian military equipment crossed the border with the Russian Federation in Sumy region. Reports of a breach of the border appeared on August 6, 2024 in the Kremlin media, which claimed that the Armed Forces entered the Sudzhansky district of the Kursk region. On August 12, President of Ukraine Vladimir Zelensky confirmed the operation of the Defense Forces in the Kursk region, emphasizing that its goal is to liberate the border territories of Ukraine from Russian troops who regularly shelled the Sumy region.
Photojournalist Vyacheslav Ratynskyi for 10 days he documented the situation on the border regions of Sumy, recording the evacuation of the local population, the columns of Ukrainian vehicles heading to the territory of the aggressor state, the consequences of shelling by Russian cabs, and also explained why he himself did not go to Russia with the Ukrainian military.
Vyacheslav Ratinsky was shooting Khmelnytsky NPP when he learned about the offensive of the Armed Forces on Kurshchina. He hesitated whether to go to the Russian-Ukrainian border in Sumy region to document the historical event.
“I thought it would be a situation similar to the march of the RDC (Russian Volunteer Corps — ed.) in the Belgorod region. They will come and go. But every day events began to develop more and more actively, and I decided to look for a way to get there,” says Vyacheslav. “My colleague from Reuters, who was also going to go there, contacted me. Together we went to the border villages with the NGO “East SOS”, which was engaged in the evacuation of the local population.”
The Russians are shelling Ukrainian border villages daily with guided air bombs. There were a lot of people willing to leave that morning.
“In the morning we were called from East SOS and said that there were two buses - 40 people wanted to leave after the shelling of Kabul. We asked permission to join them because we were worried that they would not miss us ourselves. However, “East SOS” refused, as the priority was to remove civilians. We were offered to go by our own transport to also help with the evacuation of people. We left and successfully crossed all the checkpoints,” Vyacheslav recalls.
During the evacuation of civilians, the work of Russian artillery was heard. People converged on the evacuation site with pets and small bags. Some were drunk.
Vyacheslav hoped to shoot only the evacuation of civilians, so the fact that he managed to communicate and capture the military was a great success: “When we saw the military, we were very happy. It was a pleasant surprise, because there were times before when we negotiated with the command about work, for example, in Robotyne in the South, but at the checkpoints we were not missed any further.”
The photographer admits that, apart from a large number of military equipment and well-equipped soldiers, he has not seen the Ukrainian military in such a high mood for a long time: “They go to fulfill their mission, they win!”
During these 10 days in Sumy region, Vyacheslav met many people and recorded many stories. About one of the episodes he remembered, the photographer said: “We drive along the highway and see a large SAU, we decided to overtake it. Just set the sun, the rays of light broke through the dust on the road. On the howitzer sat a stocky bearded guy waving at us into the camera. We stopped, and one of the soldiers said, “Everything is fine! Moving forward! Kursk NPP will soon be ours!” Their positive attitude was felt in the air. However, later other military said that the situation in Kurshchina had become more complicated.”
During these days, Western media actively published photos of Vyacheslav from Sumy region — the Armed Forces of Ukraine appeared on their front pages.
“This is good, because the Ukrainian army is again appearing in the Western media as a strong army,” Vyacheslav shares. - The military themselves said that they were encouraged by the Kursk operation. After all, for a long time we heard only sad news: about death, failure, suffering. And this attack reminded them themselves that they are capable of more! It really lifted the spirit of the boys.”
The military explained that the official work of journalists near the border is prohibited: they can neither mention nor comment on any actions of the military, in particular in the Kursk region. However, photojournalist Vyacheslav Ratinsky says that he still managed to get to the border territory of Sumy region: “Although we wrote a request, we did not receive any answer. At least the command knew we were here. Work seemed to be banned, but they did not interfere, for the first time I see this. We worried every day that we could be detained, stripped of accreditation or punished in some way.”
The next day, the photographers again decided to go to shoot the military. They tried to find volunteers to accompany them, but to no avail, so they went at their own risk. The trip went well, but one day they and a colleague were detained and searched, forced to remove the footage.
“We passed through checkpoints where we were not even stopped, not once during these days we had our documents checked. Except for one episode when we almost had our equipment taken away.”
Vyacheslav emphasizes that he worked very carefully so as not to harm the Defense Forces:
“I always shot so as not to harm the military. The main thing for me was and remains to do no harm. I would not like my photos to be able to identify the area where the Armed Forces are moving, or what roads they are driving on.”
“We worked quite confidently and openly, as Ukrainian troops advanced far beyond the border,” the photojournalist says. “There were no FPV drones, artillery or mortar shelling in these villages, so we felt relatively safe. However, the threat was posed by numerous CABs. There were many of them, and it always caused fear. A loud sound that cannot be forgotten. We have seen the consequences of airstrikes in these settlements: houses destroyed, farms bombed.”
“We were the first journalists who got to the checkpoint on the state border and filmed the Ukrainian military there,” explains Vyacheslav. “If we wanted to, we could press on the gas at the checkpoint and go straight to Russia, and probably no one would have stopped us. But we were held back by several reasons.”
First, Vyacheslav's car did not have any identification marks, so the Ukrainian military could take it for an enemy DRG and destroy it. Secondly, crossing the border, even during hostilities, is illegal.
Vyacheslav says: “I remember well that in 2014, during the fighting in Donbas and the annexation of Crimea, it was painful and unpleasant for me to see how six foreign photographers from well-known photo agencies presented the project “Another Crimea”. Among them was the Russian photographer Yuri Kozyrev or Georgy Pinkhasov, whom I still respected at that time. They went to Crimea and created propaganda material about what the peninsula looks like now.
It was horrible. Ukrainian colleagues then said that this was unethical, shameful, illegal and violates Ukraine's sovereignty. I always mention this story when I think about whether it is worth crossing the border and going to Russia, even if we are officially offered. We journalists work not only to collect and disseminate information, but also to defend values, to show what is right and what is not. We cannot make decisions emotionally, even if we really want to. As a person, I too would like to go to Sudja and see what happens there, but I find it unethical.
Along with the desire to show what is happening on the territory of the Russian Federation, this issue also has a reverse side: the situation with the border crossing reflects the actions of the Russians who entered our villages and cities together with journalists, removed the tearing down of Ukrainian flags, etc. We had a discussion about this with colleagues. I was told, “What about the journalists who went into Iraq with American troops? Or a similar situation in Kosovo or Serbia in the 90s?” This question is complicated. It contains not only a professional, but also a moral dilemma. If we do not raise the relevant discussion now, at least in the professional circle, they will forget about it.”
Vyacheslav emphasizes that he had no desire to take revenge on the Russians by their own methods. According to him, Ukrainians should be morally and valuably superior to their enemies: “Only in this way can Ukrainians win. Asymmetric actions. Otherwise, why fight? What do we want to prove? That we are no different from them?!”
Vyacheslav Ratynskyi — Ukrainian documentary photographer and photojournalist. He has been working in the field of photojournalism for more than 10 years. Collaborates with international and Ukrainian news agencies and media, including Reuters, The Guardian, Le Monde, Süddeutsche Zeitung Magazine and others. He has been published in many Western and Ukrainian media, including The Time, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, The Telegraph, The New York Times, El Pais, Der Spiegel and others.
Participant in many photo exhibitions in Europe, USA, Japan and South Korea. His photographs have been published in several books. Vyacheslav Ratinsky works in Ukraine. In his work, the photographer explores the impact of war on society, social and political problems.
Social networks:Facebook, Instagram
On August 9, around 11:05 the Russian army shelled Konstantinovka in Donetsk region from barrel artillery. The Russians hit a local supermarket.
The number of victims of the Russian air strike in Konstantinovka reached 14 people. 44 people were wounded. About this reported in the Office of the Attorney General.
“This is terror and barbarism. No situation on the front can be an excuse for killing civilians. An investigation into the fact of a war crime has already been launched. The terrorist country should be and will be punished for everything committed,” said Prosecutor General Andrey Kostin.
According to preliminary information, the enemy struck with an X-38 missile. As a result of the attack, a large-scale fire broke out on the site: more than a thousand square meters of the shopping center were burned. At the time of the attack, about half a hundred people were there.
“This is another targeted attack on the place of accumulation of people. Police, rescuers, medics and all responsible services are working on the spot,” he said Head of staffDonetsk Regional Military Administration Vadim Filashkin. He also called on all residents of Donetsk region to behave responsibly: “If you have not yet been evacuated and remain in the region, then avoid places of mass crowds and go to shelter without delay in case of alarm. Every day you are here is a danger. It cannot be avoided, but you can at least try to reduce the risks.”
As a result of the shelling, the office of “Nova Poshta” was also destroyed. At least four private houses, shops, a car wash were damaged. Several cars burned down.
President Volodymyr Zelensky expressed his condolences to the victims. “Russia will be responsible for this terror, and we will do everything so that the world continues to be with Ukraine, supporting our protection and saving the lives of our people,” statedpresident.
At noon, around 16:00 the Russians cynically struck Konstantinovka for the second time. “This time from “Smerchiv” in the private sector. Two civilians were wounded,” Vadim Filashkin said.
We continue with a series of interviews with professional Ukrainian documentarians.
We talked about the experience of filming the war, empathy in work and the hometown of Kharkiv with Georgy Ivanchenko, Yakov Lyashenko and Oleksandr Magula.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
With photography, I began to work with the beginning of the full-scale Russian invasion. I deal with documentary, journalism, but for a long time I could not decide whether I was a documentary photographer or a photojournalist. First of all, I am a non-profit photographer. I am very close to the thesis of Max Dondyuk, who wrote: “Photographer in the field of journalism and documentary.”
Alexander Magula:
I never thought of myself as a documentary filmmaker. First of all, I associate myself with a journalist, because I am a journalist by education, and in my work I use primarily techniques from journalism, not from documentary. And I think that most of the photos I take are still more related to journalism. Documentary photography for me is more artistic, more thoughtful. Instead, I am more guided by journalistic techniques. But, even working in a journalistic format, I take a lot of photos, and maybe out of a hundred news photos, one becomes an important document.
Yakov Lyashenko:
I also feel more attached to photojournalism because my work is not always documentary. There are many events happening in Kharkiv region, in Ukraine, which we document, but more as photojournalists.
Alexander Magula:
The main technique of photojournalism is efficiency. Everything happens very quickly in news photos. Such a photo lives in the information stream, no matter how sad it may be, for two or three days, if the event is such that it goes beyond, then maybe a week. Therefore, yes, the main technique is to react quickly, quickly appear on the scene, and quickly return the frames to the editorial office.
Yakov Lyashenko:
I came from commercial photography. I did a lot of reportage photography, and I always liked it. In fact, what I do now has the same goal — documenting, photographing what is happening around you. I fundamentally never influence the frame, I do not tell anyone how or where to stand, where to look. This is exactly a photograph of what is really happening.
Alexander Magula:
I have been shooting since I was a child, since childhood, from the age of 12. I drew graffiti with my friends and I wanted my drawings to look good in the photo. I was not satisfied with the photos on the phone, and I began to shoot. First on the film, because that was the fashion. Gradually, it was the pictures of the drawings that ceased to interest me. I began to be interested in the creation process itself: how my friends draw, how they go to draw, how they return. And in fact, it was also a kind of reporter shooting, just from inside the process. Gradually, I came to the conclusion that graffiti is such a peculiar genre of art, where some plots are constantly repeated. My personal story is also intertwined with the journey into journalism. My family is from Donbas. When the war began in 2014, I saw that no one, for example, among my classmates, knew what was happening in the same Debaltseve. It surprised me a lot. I have this inner urge to communicate to people, to their information bubble, that something bad is going on. So I decided that I like to photograph, I decided to enter journalism and came to the conclusion that I was attracted to photojournalism. Thus, from the first year of university, I began to shoot already in this genre.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
If it is very simple, then as a child, at the age of 10, I was lured by the viewfinder of my mother's camera. She showed me sometimes, I watched. And everything somehow looked so very different than in reality, although it was broadcasting ordinary reality. That's where it all started. These are the first, perhaps, the basics, steps to acquaintance with photography. However, I started keeping my camera on my own at the age of 17. I walked, filmed something on the street, somehow understood slowly, learned that there are different ways, different animals, how and what can be shown. However, perhaps, such a moment of quintessence was the admission to Lviv Polytechnic at the Faculty of Journalism. I had high expectations that I would have mentors who could lead me into this world. Why did I like this social photo at all? This is documentary, journalism. I realized that you can not just shoot a street, where you need to catch shadows or something unusual and beautiful, but you can do something similar, but in those moments when it is a socially significant thing in the history of a family, people, city, country, world.
I was influenced by the story of journalist Gareth Jones. But I have not seen his pictures. I read the book, heard the story, saw the movie, but I didn't see the pictures. The joke is that he is the first Welshman who came and showed the whole world that there is a Holodomor in Ukraine. And it struck me that a person with a camera, with a text, could tell something from another part of the world, something socially important that no one dared to talk about. It is no longer even about photography and not about text, but about curiosity and investigation, about the direction of movement in journalism.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
When I studied for half a year at the university, a full-scale invasion began and I left Lviv to shoot. I knew I needed to take pictures. He filmed volunteers at the station for a week and then left. I looked at a lot of pictures by photographers from the Magnum agency, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Eliot Hervit, Robert Capa and others. Their photos led me to the decision that we had to go and shoot.
Yakov Lyashenko:
I have a slightly different story as I got into documentary photography. At the beginning of a full-scale war, he worked as a fixer. A friend suggested I try it. At that point, I didn't even know what fixation was. My first photographers that I helped were precisely documentarians, with work experience, and they inspired me. For example, James Nachtway. However, I realized that they come, shoot and move on. However, the war does not end, and you need to do it every day. At that point, I was just starting out and did not yet know how to work in the war. However, I gained a lot of experience with photographers.
I started working in Kharkov, because then it was one of the epicenters of events. Of course, there was a war in the Donbas and in Kherson, but I was in Kharkov, I knew the city, I knew everything that was needed to work here.
Yakov Lyashenko:
At the time of the beginning of a full-scale war, I had a creative crisis. At that time, I rarely took pictures, even took a camera in my hands. I worked a lot before that, maybe a little burned out, and the format in which I worked did not suit me anymore. I wanted to take a break. However, at the beginning of the war I started working with prominent photographers, especially such as Nachtway, and that inspired me super. I saw how it works and how it communicates with people.
I watched photographers from morning to evening, analyzed how they work, what methods they use. I'm not talking about setting up the camera, I'm talking about finding the moment, choosing a frame. I was fascinated by it and I knew I wanted to shoot. I then shot a little on the film and on the figure. Later I realized that I no longer wanted to be a fixer, but wanted to photograph and document myself.
Alexander Magula:
My family is from Debaltseve, so I have my motivation to take pictures. I decided in the first year that I wanted to shoot. Now it's even a little embarrassing to say that I dreamed of becoming a military photographer. I always thought I would go somewhere in the Donbas. When the war came to Kharkiv itself, I realized that we must be more careful with my desires, because they can become a reality.
In 2019 or 2020, I met German journalists in Berlin by chance. They told me about their experience in Syria, in Afghanistan. We have established a good contact. When the full-scale invasion began, I also had a creative crisis in photography. At that point, I barely touched the camera. Before full-scale, I worked for a year at the university as a journalist, videographer, it was a superlocal publication. I burned out, thoughts began to occur to me that I did not want to do this. A month after February 24, I received a message from a friend from Germany: “I remember our conversation and that you told me that you wanted to shoot. I'm going to Ukraine, the time has come — let's try it.” That's how we united with him. For the first six months, maybe eight months, we worked together as freelancers. Sometimes I helped him, worked with him as a photojournalist, and several times I worked for him as a fixer. I met a French photographer, with whom we are now friends.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
In fact, we did not see war until February 24. And our foreign colleagues, photographers, have such experience. They saw a lot of different surreal pictures that we see now. And so they already have a perception of war, and they apply their experience to Ukrainian realities. It works. Of course, our war is different, but wars are still similar. Our war is completely exclusive in the technologies used, unique in the number of weapons and shells.
Alexander Magula:
My first post was after two months of war. The photos were bought by the German magazine “Focus”. It was a report about Kharkov. He took a series of photographs together with a foreign journalist. This was my first publication in print, my first money earned precisely for photojournalism.
It was a portrait of the commander of “Kraken” Konstantin Nemichev, and these were the infantry positions in Cherkasy Lozova, where then there was conditionally “zero”, the front line Kharkov, North Saltovka. I had an existential crisis at the time, because these are the first days when I really saw houses burning down where I was walking, where my friends lived. When I was sent a PDF of the magazine, I looked at this: “Wow, it turned out!”. However, during the filming everything was like in a fog.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
The first material from a full-scale war that the media bought from me was from the filming of Borodianka after the occupation, where I was born. Then for the first time I worked with a journalist who needed a photographer. Journalist from Belarus, we became very friends with him, went to shoot the liberated Chernihiv region. It was important for me to share what I saw, to publish my work.
I did not think about money, but at some point one of the journalist's friends saw my photo with him somewhere on Facebook. I was given a contact by the EPA and then for the first time my photo went to the media. It was the village of Senkivka, a very authentic beautiful wooden house located 600 meters from the Russian border and the monument to the three sisters. From there, the Russians poured cassettes, and “Hurricanes”, and everything that they could. Fields in the village are sown with “cassettes”. We wanted to talk to the locals, we were looking for people in this village, and there were very few of them. We knocked on the house and no one opened it. I stood on a bench and looked at what was in the yard, and there was a big “Hurricane” just in the center.
Yakov Lyashenko:
In the beginning, when I worked as a fixer, I photographed for myself, trained, studied, watched more experienced photographers take pictures. My friend Katya arranged an exhibition for me, thank her for this. These were probably my first sold photos. These were not even publications in the media, but it was part of an exhibition in France, for which I was paid the first money. And that was interesting. I posted photos on instagram and the first publication was when Zelensky's official account posted my photos. It was nice.
The picture was from the de-occupation of Kharkiv region. It was the military who were riding on the BMP in Izyum — they smiled, rejoiced and waved at us. I made this frame and it was published. Before that, I just posted photos on social networks and said that you can take my photos, use them. It was important to me that someone saw these photos so that they were not lying on the table. After a year and a half of work as a fixer, he spent the money earned on updating photographic equipment. He also met people from the EPA and since then there have been publications in the media, in the world media.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
If the photos are from the event, they should not lie. However, I think that everyone has something “lying around”. The desire to tell about the events brings us to Kharkov. Obviously, this is the first major city on which there was such a massive blow, on which Russian troops are moving so actively. We know that Kharkov can be lost even before the start of a full-scale invasion. The attack on Kiev was a surprise for us, the attack on Kharkov was not a surprise for anyone. However, there are many internal, invisible events taking place there. I will tell you about the memories of one of those who led the defense of Saltovka. He counted 15 minutes for the first three days, that is, lived 15 minutes, lasted 15 minutes - that's cool. And it's a completely different sense of time that I don't know anything about. Nothing like that happened in my life, not even during the Russian-Ukrainian war, when my time would be reduced to 15 minutes, so that it would be an achievement, a super gift to survive 15 minutes. And photography is a visual thing that interacts primarily with time, it stops and captures it.
What was the feeling of the first months of the war in Kharkov, what was then wanted from my own photo? How was this all fixed? There are a lot of ways to tell. In the end, what makes a photo a photograph is the meaning you bring there. Then choose a composition and form in order to fix the meaning that you want to convey. The meaning of life in a city under siege, in a city on which the enemy is attacking, in which time is so concentrated, in which everything changes so much. People left, the light disappeared, people began to live in the subway. Everything was changing. And what then was desired at the level of meaning from his photograph, and how did this desired level of meaning provoke form?
Yakov Lyashenko:
All the time at the beginning of the full-scale war I was in Kharkov. Honestly, the first time was super scary. Lack of experience played a big minus. Why did fixation help this? I gained that important experience to be able to concentrate and take pictures in conditions of high stress. I remember my first trip to Saltivka with a French photographer. We just arrived after the “Grad” package was there, literally seven minutes later. I remember taking a picture of one grandmother who came out of her house engulfed in fire. Two other houses nearby also burned. She came out in a robe, in slippers, and it was, if I'm not mistaken, March. She went out, walked around the house, looked at this house. If I had experience working during the war, I could have taken a lot more pictures and better. However, now, if I look back, I understand that I did not fully realize the moment because of fears, ignorance. It was a new experience because I have never worked in places where there is constant shelling, where you can die at any moment. I didn't have the right clothes and equipment that could save lives, I didn't even have a first aid kit. My first first aid kit probably appeared closer to May.
Alexander Magula:
I have a similar story. I came to Saltivka with journalist Philip from Germany. I wanted to continue shooting, just even for myself. We went out to North Saltivka, and also filmed these poor people walking on the wreckage. I agree, if I had the experience, I could have made better shots. However, it was scary and there was no first aid kit. I only had a bulletproof vest and that's it.
We walked, filmed, filmed, met the soldiers. The soldiers began to check on us: “What are you doing here? Do you have a camera, are you a gunner or what are you shooting?” We explained that journalists work here. The soldiers told us, “Get out of here, because now there will be shelling.” Even before the full-scale war, in 2020, I went to “Desna”, received accreditation to the ATO zone. I never had to go there. Then we were told that in a combat zone, always listen to the military. If they say run away, then you have to run away. And that was just such a case. We began with such a slow step to move from an equipped position. The military began to shout at us: “We said run away, do not go, but run!” We ran a hundred meters, crossed the “Rodnik”...
The photos were published on the website of the Institute of War and Peace Reporting. It's good that they went somewhere. Because at that moment I was shooting it just for myself. And I also had the feeling that due to lack of experience, I did not do enough. First of all, I didn't make any very, very touching shots. I almost died, but it was an experience when you understand that everything is very serious and basic safety rules should not be neglected.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
My story is also about Rodnik. We passed through this place and I stopped to remove the broken house. For the first time I came under such shelling when the square of your stay covers the “Grad”. If we talk about time, then it really slows down at this point. It was very scary. After that, I realized that the military says to go for a reason.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
The first shelling he came under was in Tsvirkuny in Kharkiv region in May. Then we were winged with “lighters” or phosphorus, it is not clear exactly. There was such a whistle, such a sound, as if the blades of a helicopter were spinning. It crumbles and slowly falls, you know, like such a fireworks salute. We did not understand what was happening and quickly ran to a random grandmother in the basement. There they waited. There were six of us humans, a small basement, but then I realized something else, a little more interesting. Those people were already used to all these things, and this woman says: “Oh, now I'll put the seagulls in the house, I'll bring the seagulls.” We are like, “What?”. As a result, we stayed there for a short time, maybe up to an hour. I saw that grandmother for the first time in my life, and that grandfather. However, war and all the terrible events that happen to you catalyze, I think, absolutely all processes — both growing up and relationships between people. During the hour I spent with my grandmother, I thought that she was closer to me than some distant relative. That is, these relationships, they have contracted over time.
Yakov Lyashenko:
I caught the concentrated time with Nachtway on Saltovka. It was relatively far from North Saltovka, we were in the car with him. A hundred meters from us was a package of “Grad”. The moment you sit in the car and pour a package of “Grad”, you do not realize that it is a hundred meters. It trickles like in chess, and you do not understand whether you are in the epicenter, whether you are on the side, or if it is somewhere far from you at all. By the feeling that you are right in the epicenter. I do not wish this to anyone. I didn't think about the photos at all at that moment.
I have one photograph, taken on film, of the aftermath of the arrival of that Grad package. There were injured people, burned apartments, a destroyed house. It seems to me that I did not capture that condensed time the way I would have liked. I believe that due to lack of work experience precisely in the conditions of war, I was not able to fully recover those first few months before the de-occupation of Cirkuni and the following villages, when shelling of Kharkov decreased greatly.
Alexander Magula:
I think the first photos just have some personal value for everyone. For example, George and I looked at pictures of each other about the beginning of a full-scale invasion. At a distance you see progress in technique, composition and how you gain experience. The first photos were taken intuitively, to the touch, when you just shoot what you see. The first pictures may not be very successful, but personally for you they are valuable. For example, you will open this photo and for the viewer it will be out of context. It can be just some smoke, collapsed buildings. Photography is not something you can be proud of, but there is a story behind it.
I am reminded of two pictures. The moment I photographed the collapsed entrance. There is nothing super special about this photo. However, I know that two minutes after the picture, the package of “Grad” arrived and I was very creepy there. The second photo, which I can call more successful, is a portrait of the commander of “Kraken” in the destroyed Regional State Administration. Then a rocket flew there. The attitude towards the military was, as I felt at the time, as if towards the gods. These are the people who can protect us, on whom all hope. The portrait of this commander is my personal embodiment of the attitude towards one of those men who defend Kharkiv, on whom the responsibility lies. All people are waiting for some kind of post from him, operational information that “Kraken” liberated new villages. I remember these first de-occupied villages, which Kraken liberated with other units. People had a very reverent attitude towards the military.
Yakov Lyashenko:
As for me, Kharkiv has changed a lot. When the artillery could no longer fire on Kharkov because of the long distance, people began to return en masse to the city. Before that, Kharkiv was empty. When the Circuses were liberated, when they liberated Vilkhivka, when they liberated Ruska Lozova, then people began to return little by little. This also affected the shooting, there were much fewer topics for filming. It's true. When artillery was shelling the city every day, the districts of Saltovka, Pyatikhatka were in turmoil, people lived in the metro, someone had no water, no light, nothing; he was shooting constantly. However, Kharkiv is a big city and not everything looks like Northern Saltovka. I came home from filming, I had internet, heating and even hot water. At home it was like another world. I think it was worth fixing the “two Kharkov”. I am glad that there are areas in Kharkov that are not destroyed, which were not fired at by artillery.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
At the beginning of the full-scale Russian invasion, KABs arrived in Nikolaev every day. As an alarm clock — from five to nine in the morning, from five to ten CABs flew. Five-story buildings were torn down, people died. I photographed everything I saw, shot the news. We heard that something flew - we left.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
Topic selection is based on experience. You first start working with events, with socially important materials. Then you understand that something is missing, that you need to change approaches to work. I stopped being interested in purely informational photography, because these topics can be shown a little differently. And what impact does that have now? Aren't the same arrival cards enough now? And do I need them now, because there are people who do it, and it's good that they do it. You ask yourself questions, you try to change technical, visual, conceptual solutions, you think how to show the theme of war, invasion, to make it interesting. When you go to Kiev or Lviv, you can hear, for example, conversations about the exhibition. Someone says, “Oh, the photo exhibition has opened!”. The second person replies, “Oh, it's about war again.” This has already affected everyone so much that it is necessary to find solutions that would interest people in the topic of war. Unfortunately, this is such a stage now. I try to both use techniques and think more. Finding new solutions requires thinking and reading more. It can be any literature that can inspire and motivate action. Everyone finds the right path for himself.
Alexander Magula:
I would like to go back to how photography in Kharkov changed. The shelling of the city continues and people are learning to just live with it. I see more and more photos as photographers try to capture this routine in the intervals between arrivals. For example, it inspires me, it pleases me.
I don't live in Kharkiv now, but I look at photos of Sergei Korovainy, Roman Pylypey, Yakov Lyashenko. I really liked Lyashenko's series about the zoo. The routine of people living in this horror and just trying to live a normal life. I really like George's series about the family in Izyum in Kharkiv region. Such a very intimate series. It seems to me that this is how photography in Kharkov began to change, it is immersed in everyday life.
Yakov Lyashenko:
When it all started, there was a concentration of horror, and I didn't even want to film the routine. There were many events on the outskirts of the city, sometimes in the center of Kharkov: missiles arrived, artillery, “Grad” worked, and life was imperceptible. Everyone was sitting in basements, someone lived in the subway. Now people are used to it. However, I remember the period in 2022, the summer when the artillery no longer fired into the city, and the Russian military every day, like clockwork, fired S-300 missiles. We could even check the clock — at exactly 10 p.m., a rocket arrived. You look at the clock and hear an explosion outside the window. It was every day. Then they changed the time and everything repeated at 4 in the morning. You walk through the city, you see people everywhere who have not slept, because at 4 in the morning a rocket arrives.
Now sometimes I photograph everyday life in Kharkov, because it is interesting and there is something to shoot. I go, I shoot people in the zoo, on the streets of the city, and everyone reacts normally to the camera. In 2022, when it all started, it was extremely difficult to shoot because everyone was pretty aggressive about the cameras. I was attacked twice, almost smashed my car. It was possible to film the life of people in the subway. However, people did not want to communicate, let alone photos. I understand that every day hundreds of journalists come, film how they live, and people want privacy, want a normal life simply. They don't want to live in the subway, they want to live in their apartments, but they can't. At that time, it was almost impossible to shoot it. There were hardly any people on the streets.
Georgy Ivanchenko:
A series of photos about the family from Izyum in Kharkiv region has not been published. I met these people by chance a few months after the de-occupation of Kharkiv region. We stayed with them for the evening. They had no light, no water, nothing. For almost a year and a half, I visited them on the way to Donetsk region or from Donetsk region. They had a vacant apartment and we stayed there. We just talked, found some kind of common language, and I really fit into this party. These are super-cool, extraordinary people who live lives. However, I did not photograph them. I started shooting them just a few months ago, and now I understand why I photograph them, why it is important. This is the ordinary life of people who have experienced very uncool emotions, pictures and all that. People now live, work, have problems, die from common diseases, that is, life has not gone anywhere. In addition to the war there is another thing that has always been, there are these all the problems that were before that.
Alexander Magula:
Now war is still piling up on ordinary problems. When I watched this series about Raisin, I really liked it. Because what we know from the photos of Ryazum are the mass burials, the first days of exhumation. For example, it is important for me to see this life of ordinary people who have stayed to live there. Because the portrait of the city is not only news, but also the stories of the people who stayed there.
It is important to shoot people and remember the issue of ethics. When there was the last arrival on the “Epicenter”, a lot of photographers filmed the body of the deceased, which lay a little further, covered with a thermal blanket. It was important for me not to show the face of this man, to photograph him so that he could not be recognized by the photo. I do not in any way condemn the colleagues who filmed this man with an open face. Because it's about efficiency, about trying to quickly show this horror when dead people are lying in the middle of the street.
I will also tell you about the manifestation of empathy in photography. When there was a rocket attack on the Thunderstorm, my colleague from the Social Nastya Ivantsev and I were doing a story about the Mukhovaty family. My brother and sister died in a cafe, mom, dad and grandmother. It was news, but it was important for us to make this story well. We spent five days on it. I felt very sorry for this family. It was very important for me to show these people with maximum empathy, and, again, to show them up close, inside their home, when their parents left and did not return. Now these children are alone in the house. I was ready to sacrifice even the promptness, informativeness of the staff. My colleague and I were discussing how we could make this story whole. We filmed several stages: here we met them, they set pegs in the cemetery where their family will be buried. The next day, their friends, also children, came to help them dig these graves. On the third and fourth days there were the first burials. Sasha asked us not to film the burial of his parents. We understood that in order for the story to be complete, we needed to remove the burial of our parents. However, he asked and we did not shoot, we left. We decided that empathy and ethics are more important in this moment than a whole or not a whole story.
Yakov Lyashenko:
I've also been to the burials at Thunder. They took place for several days, probably more than a week, because so many people died. There were many journalists, both Ukrainian and foreign. At one point, when the body was brought in, most of the foreign journalists behaved rather badly. Everyone noticed that the “westerners” were just a dick. All Ukrainian journalists were as empathetic as possible to the feelings of relatives who experienced mourning. The main thing for foreign photographers was to make a bright shot at any price. Perhaps over time we have come to the conclusion that for us what is happening in our country is not just documentation at all costs. For all of us, this is our personal story, the history of our country, our family. Maybe that picture that Nick Ut took in Vietnam, we would have taken differently, or not done at all. Because we experience everything personally, and for foreign journalists it's just work.
The material was worked on:
Researcher of the topic, author of the text: Katya Moskalyuk
Literary Editor: Julia Futei
Site Manager: Vladislav Kuhar
The material was created with the support of The Fritt Ord Foundation.
Yakov Liashenko— Ukrainian photographer from Kharkov. He began his professional career in 2012. After the beginning of the full-scale invasion, he worked as a fixer for well-known photographers and in parallel documented the events of Russia's invasion of Ukraine.
Currently, Yakov is a soldier-photographer of the special purpose battalion “Donbass” of the 18th Slavic Brigade of the NGU.
Author's social networks: Instagram, Facebook.
Heorhii Ivanchenko— Ukrainian photographer, who since February 2022 works as a freelance reporter in the field of documentary and journalistic photography.
From the first months of the invasion, he filmed for the Associated Press and the European Pressphoto Agency. Starting from Borodyan, where George was born, he continued with the front line: Nikolaev region, Kharkiv region, Kherson region. Now his attention is focused on the Donetsk region.
The turning point in his photography was almost a month spent in Bakhmut. Throughout December and January, George documented the lives of the townspeople, carrying a backpack and sleeping bag, sharing life with local volunteers, doctors, military and firefighters in the basements.
Author's social networks: Instagram, Facebook.
Oleksandr Magula— photographer from Kharkov. Journalist Social News in Kyiv. He studied journalism at Kharkiv National University named after V. N.D. Karazin. Before the war, he worked in the local media. Collaborated with the largest German-language print publications in Europe (NZZ, FAZ, TAZ, Focus, DerStandard).
Ukrainian photographer Maksym DondyukHe has been fighting the war since 2014. He visited the hottest spots, in particular the Ilovai boiler. At the beginning of the full-scale war, he documented the battles in the Kiev region, and his photos are published by the leading publications of the world. Maxim Dondyuk works on long-term author's projects, which are personal reflections on the war in Ukraine. Maxim talked about creating photos from the new “White Series”, about finding his own visual language and why every frame of it is an attempt to convey hatred of war.
— In your author's projects, in particular in the “White Series”, you show the war through the landscape. Why exactly this genre?
— I have been photographing the war in Ukraine since 2014. After a year of filming active combat actions, I decided to pause. In 2017, he traveled the former demarcation line, where he saw war, blood and murder, where he saw destroyed houses and land fought for every meter. I have traveled along this line from the Sea of Azov to the Russian border several times. All of this territory, except for a small piece near New York, is now unfortunately occupied by Russian troops.
When I arrived, all these places were not needed by anyone, they were devastated. Instead, there were already some rebuilt houses, shops, block-posts nearby. It reminded me of the condition I had and those who came back from the war. The state of inner emptiness when you come from the front and no one understands you. You ask yourself why there is still corruption, or why everyone here drinks wine when they still kill there. There is despair, as well as misunderstandings with relatives and friends.
In 2017, I filmed a series “Between Life and Death”where he showed the effects of war through the landscape. Before the war, I also used landscape photography, for example in a series about Chernobyl. For me, this is a convenient format, the possibility of a more artistic approach to photography. I am very tired of what I was doing at the beginning of my creative path, when I was working more with people. True, the full-scale war brought me back again — for the first year I actively worked with the military, documented events, collaborated with magazines. When war comes to your home, you are no longer into art. Someone takes a weapon, and someone takes a camera and does everything they can. The military is fighting Russian soldiers, and for me it was a war with Russian propaganda.
At some point I realized that I was very tired of everything I was doing at the front. It became increasingly difficult to access the footage of the fighting. I went back to landscape photography. I spent the last two winters in Donetsk, Kharkiv and Kherson regions. After the project on the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, I can say freak-out about maps. In the summer I marked the objects of interest to me on the map, and in the winter I went to the shooting.
I lived in Izyum, Kramatorsk, if possible, went to the front line, but most of the time I waited for the weather I needed to shoot the “White Series”. I needed a few inches of snow, frost, so that there was no sun. It is not so often that all these parameters coincide. So I shot some objects ten, twenty times. I just took the car, drove into the fields, knowing that they were all mined. Tried to walk the trails if I noticed them. When there was no weather, I was looking for new potentially interesting locations for filming. Such a scrupulous landscape approach to the photo. For me, it is also a meditative approach, when I was alone among the field, winter and frost, such a kind of conversation with myself. For me, this series is very private.
“The White Series” about what will happen to humanity if we do not stop fighting. It just shows me what our planet might look like if we beat each other up over territory, resources, or religion. This is not only a problem of Ukraine and Russia, it is a global problem of humanity, because we cannot stop, we cannot not fight. My new series is about the hatred of everything related to war. War generates aggression, it destroys life, nature, technology.
— How connected are your projects “Between Life and Death” and “White Series”. Is one a continuation of the other?
— Separating these two series of photos is very difficult. In the end, my project on Chernobyl is also based on a similar approach. He used visual languages that are very intersecting. They are like twins. Nevertheless, the “White Series” is different, it is deeper, more powerful, I use the medium format for shooting. The idea originated in 2017, when he first traveled to places where he was in 2014 with the military. I had psychological problems and I needed to go back there, see everything again and reflect on the events of the war.
The projects “Between Life and Death” and “White Series” are related. However, for the filming of the “White Series”, I use a medium format so that the photos can be printed three to four meters in size. I see this project for exhibitions in galleries. Imagine walking into a space and noticing such an interesting landscape. At first it seems that it is something beautiful, but in fact it is our distorted aesthetic. Because visual art is often based on suffering, wars or religious crucifixions. As you get closer and closer to the photo, you already see the destruction and scars that war leaves.
I am sure that people who live abroad and have completely different problems may not understand the photos of the “White Series”. Photos will be closer for those who know what war and devastation are. This series is probably more about me and my inner worldview, how I perceive what war leaves behind.
— Why are there no people in your pictures from the “White Series” at all?
— “When I was shooting the series Between Life and Death, it was very important for me to convey the emptiness that I felt myself and that many of the guys who came back from the front felt. When you come home, and you end the meaning of life, there is no understanding of what to do next. Many soldiers return to the front again because they cannot find work, are not understood by family and friends. If the military has PTSD, it is very, very heavy inside.
In 2017, I tried to visualize the emptiness that was in me. I couldn't go back to the front and shoot again, so I went along this line of demarcation. For me, it was therapy through art. Then the war continued, but the front line did not move, and everything seemed to freeze. Now, in the “White Series”, the idea is different, since active combat actions are being waged. Now it is important for me to show what will remain of humanity. If we do not stop fighting, there will be a nuclear winter and everything will be covered with snow, everything will freeze. Destroyed houses and rusted tanks will remain in some places.
War does nothing good. I simply do not believe that war happens with any good intention, that war is fought for religion, nation, or any other ideals. Human life is more important than a piece of land. It is a very painful topic for me to hear that it is necessary to fight, to fight and to liberate everything. I would like to know how many more boys and girls have to die for this. How difficult and painful it will be for our country. How destructive war is to any country.
I only filmed the war in Ukraine. I am not a war photographer who travels to other countries. I'm not interested in that. I see the war as a person, as a Ukrainian to whom it happened. I took the camera not because I decided to film the war, but because this sworn war came to our country. I am such an idealistic humanist and it is very difficult for me.
With the pictures from the “White Series” I try to show what can happen to our world. We will all be in ruins. There are a lot of such things that I photograph in Ukraine now in other countries, such as Afghanistan, Chechnya. I cannot understand the meaning in the actions of these countries that start wars, such as the Russian Federation, the United States and others. When they come to a strange land and they need something. I can't find the answer. Instead, I walked through mined fields for months and just took pictures. Someone collects various items, someone — impressions. I collected, collected on a white background, threw away things that were once important. The tank was important, someone sat in it, this house was important, people lived there. Now everything is destroyed and devastated, like our entire country.
— The idea to create the “White Series” arose as a result of long filming of the war? How and when did you conceive her visual language?
— In this case, I decided everything before filming. I needed to buy special equipment for photographing panoramas, learn how to use it correctly. Canadian photographer Edward Burtinsky works in this style. He helped me make panoramas, and now he is very supportive of my project.
I decided to make all the photos of the series completely original, without significant post-production. It happened that the twentieth came to the monument in Izyum, and there was still not enough fog, or the sun looked out from behind the clouds. And I just stood, and I couldn't take a picture. The viewer sees one white frame. To him, it looks like someone drove in a car, took a photo and drove on. Instead, two years before this picture, I was making a map, lived in Donetsk region for two winters, traveled many kilometers to catch a few minutes of the weather I needed. If suitable conditions occurred, I quickly drove the car to several objects at once.
— In the project “Between Life and Death”, in addition to the photo, you add quotes from “Tao De Jing. The Book of Path and Dignity” by Lao Tzu. Why this book?
After 2014, I tried to find balance in myself. Initially looking for ways in Western philosophy, he lived for a while in Europe. Then I realized that my way of thinking and perceiving the world gravitates towards the eastern. Until 2021, I traveled a lot in Asia. I am fascinated by Taoism and Buddhism, I have read a lot of relevant literature, several times immersed myself in meditative practices in temples.
I really like Lao Tzu, in particular his book “Tao De Jing”. Just picked the quotes that best reflect my attitude towards the war. Lao Tzu writes very powerful things. For example, he talks about two countries that fought and one of them won. An army that has killed thousands of people should not celebrate, stage parades, or drink wine. The day of the end of the war is mournful, because no one can enjoy the fact that someone is killed. Even though the dead are enemies. I am sometimes shocked when I see people in restaurants in Ukraine watching videos of drones killing someone at breakfast and marking it with a “smiley face”. It's easiest to talk about patriotism over dinner in a safe place. I've seen war, I've been wounded twice, spent a lot of time with the military, but I still don't understand how you can enjoy killing, even enemies.
I can understand when this happens to the military. Yet it amazes me to see so much hatred in civilians who have no experience at the front. They seem to have come to the theater or the cinema. What kind of idea is it, to watch someone get killed. I saw more respect for the enemies at the front than in the towns farther from the line of contact. It's just nonsense. I am also talking about the respect that often exists on the front between militaries on different sides, even considering the fact that they are fighting.
Hatred and aggression destroys us from the inside, burns us out. We will begin to destroy not only our enemies, but also family, friends, ultimately, our country. When hatred takes hold of us, we will not be able to just stop after the war is over. We will start looking for new enemies, but this time among our families, acquaintances, inside our country.
I tried to convey the message of the pictures, supplementing them with expressions of Lao Tzu. For who will give meaning to my words. I added quotes from the book “Tao De Jing. The Book of Way and Dignity”, where Lao Tzu talks about war and how to fight when you had to do it when the enemy came to your country. First of all, a person must remain a humanist, even in times of war. Maintain humanity, and not become a beast.
— In the preface to your exhibition “Modern Ukrainian Landscape” in Lviv's “I Gallery”, curator Pavlo Gudimov writes that the silence of war is more frightening than active actions. How much do you agree with this statement?
I agree 100%. If you ask the guys in the front door what is worst for them, they will say that silence. If you ask the stormtrooper what is most terrible for him, he will say that this is an unknown on the way to combat positions. In war photos and videos, we often see action. However, this is only ten percent of the war, the remaining ninety is silence and expectation. When you are driving along the road, and no car comes across you, you subconsciously start to worry, you do not understand what could have happened. For me, during filming at the front, the silence was also the worst. When you hear the arrival and shots, you understand where to expect danger, you get certainty. The silence, on the other hand, is very heavy. Even in the city, after the air alarm, you begin to live with the thought that this time you could die. Expectation and silence are the worst in war.
My White Series photos are not an attempt to convey silence, but an attempt to convey my inner state. Art for me is not only a means of self-expression, but also a tool for deep analysis and reflection. I aim to create a space for contemplation where viewers confront complex issues, explore their feelings, rethink their relationships with the world and history; I hope to elicit emotional and intellectual feedback, inspiring deeper understanding and awareness.
— The photos of the “White Series” are visually attractive and beautiful. How aesthetic can a photograph of war be?
If you show a person the war the way a webcam shows you, showing bodies and “meat”, no one will watch it. It is necessary to work with the consciousness of the viewer, because everyone has a certain visual perception, which is based on art, painting. It is necessary to lure the viewer into this trap so that he will open, look and then his mind will feel this horror of war. In The White Series, I use this visual aesthetic to make people come closer and feel the emotion. People often ask me why my photos are so aesthetic and beautiful. I always ask them in response why they perceive it as something beautiful. Why photographs of bodies of dead people, destroyed houses and mangled tanks can be called attractive. Perhaps it is the problem of all humanity that we, looking at images of suffering, murder and war, perceive them as aesthetic. Artists understand these things and use them to communicate with their audience. Susan Sontag writes a lot about this problem in her book “Observing the Pain of Others.”
— Photographing war for you is documenting and informing, or is it still art and aesthetics?
“When the war started in 2014, and then the full-scale war in 2022, at first I still documented the events. However, I always try to look for things at the same time that I can use for exhibitions or as an idea for an author's project. Because photos of current events for magazines can be printed as international propaganda. However, I am not one of those photographers who use the same photos at the same time for publications, exhibitions and books. When I make stories for print in the media, at the same time I try to create frames for myself in another visual language. Sometimes I try to combine, but often it's just not possible. To make a shot that I like, sometimes I have to spend several weeks looking for a location and waiting for the right moment.
I have this approach to work, so I do not consider myself a photojournalist. If there is no good light, a good composition and the right combination of colors, I will not take a photo. Or I will make it by machine and then I will not use it anywhere. For me, the background of a photo is sometimes more important than what happened on it. Photojournalists follow the object in the frame, and their background is random. I choose a background and wait for something to happen on it.
When I was working on the “White Series”, at some point I realized that I was shooting the same tank for a whole week. I already have two hundred photos of this tank. Sometimes you get hung up on something without even realizing it. Many young journalists shoot the work of artillery, mortars, catch the “pipe with fire”, that is, the moment when the projectile flies out. They often do not understand that it is no longer possible to look at such monotonous in composition, light and plot of photographs. You need to look for your language, yourself and your style.
Of course, it is impossible not to repeat yourself. Now I have stopped photographing some military things, because I have been taking the same photo for two years, but from different angles. This happens to everyone. At this point, it is important to pause, distance yourself, review your entire photo archive, and, if possible, make an exhibition or book.
— You photographed many events at the beginning of a full-scale war. Please tell us about the photo from the cover of Time magazine!
I don't really like this photo. However, I understand why it became the cover of the magazine. At that time it was important for Ukraine, the cover attracted our attention.
I have collaborated with various magazines since 2014, the editors knew my work. At the beginning of 2022, it was the only way for me to continue working, as photographing war is expensive. You need to find a place to live, a car to be able to travel to Kharkiv, Zaporozhye, Kiev and other cities. International magazines have been a financial pillar for me. All the magazines I collaborated with were weeklies, I didn't have to send pictures every day. I had a lot of free time for my own filming. For the first four months I worked alone, without journalists. I had freedom of movement and choice of topics. I respect journalists if they respect my work. I am willing to wait for him three hours for an interview if he then waits for me when I work in the trench. However, if a journalist expects me only to film his interview in coffee shops, we will definitely not work.
— The full-scale war in Ukraine is filmed by many photographers, both Ukrainian and foreign. During these two and a half years, many photographic stamps and templates have already been formed. What do you think are the themes and aspects of the war that have not been adequately covered? How difficult is it in the field of photography today to create something completely new?
This problem is global. It was the same in 2014. Many modern photographers do not remember this because they were not yet engaged in photography at that time. There were only a few documentary photographers who worked before the war and, when the fighting began, continued to shoot. At the same time, there was a large layer of young photographers who began working for international news agencies or as fixers for foreign journalists and photographers. They had never heard of a documentary photograph or a photojournalist. In 2015, ninety percent of these photographers disappeared. They went to earn money in game design or in IT. Now the situation is the same.
It is very difficult to form your own visual language when you work in an information agency and have to shoot events and news every day. Something went wrong and you immediately ran there. When you only have two hours or five minutes to take photos. I do not really believe that under such conditions it is possible to develop your own style. When photographers run after the subject, they shoot everything in series, and then choose the best one for the agency out of five thousand photos. I'm not criticizing, it's work. At the same time, many photographers do something for their own money, travel a lot, look for something and document something. They can form their own shooting aesthetics and style.
The photo editor of Stern magazine once said to me, “Max, the easiest thing to shoot is war. You just have to have steel eggs.” And if you send a photographer to a place where nothing happens, he will not be able to shoot anything. He is used to photographing active actions in the war, where you are as if in a movie. I also went through this. This is normal. The first year you can “hammer”, and then comes awareness and you start to see other projects.
Most of the photographers currently documenting the war will also soon go into another profession that will bring in more money. The profession is slowly dying, and only news agencies still pay something for pictures. Magazines with which I have collaborated a lot, such as The New Yorker, Time, Stern, Der Spiegel and others, cut their budgets every year. During the year you can get a maximum of two shooting orders from them. Many documentarians change jobs.
There are photo festivals in Arles — Recontres d'Arles, and in Perpignan — Visa pour l'Image. Both festivals are documentary, but it's like two different poles. I've been there and there. In Perpignan, photographers communicate about which of them spent more days in the trenches or who came under fire more times. In the city of Arles, on the other hand, the war is told from a completely different perspective — I am talking about the art of documenting. When you work with journalism, but it still remains an art. At the Recontres d'Arles festival, they talk more about the inner world, not just stating facts. Photographs are not only about what happened or happened, there the authors use the medium of photography to convey some visual concept or smart concept.
You need to know these things so as not to repeat someone else. It is important to understand modern photography, to read criticism. In fact, very few photographers read. I have talked to many young photographers, and all of them just look at colleagues' photos for inspiration. And what's the point? Watch other photographers to repeat them? If you want to repeat someone, you should watch the films of Andrei Tarkovsky or Theodore Angelopoulos, read criticism or philosophy of art. This approach will give you a lot more ideas than looking at the top photos in Time magazine or the Associated Press.
Tell me, please, what inspires you? What books do you like to read, what movies do you watch?
I am fascinated by Eastern philosophy. I must have already read everything I can on this topic. I also read Western philosophers. I read criticism and theory of photography, literature on the development of visual art. I can say that I am such a bookworm. If I am asked to go to a party or to the beach, then I better stay at home with a book. I do not drink alcohol, I do not drink coffee, I communicate little with others, I have few friends in Ukraine. I'm closer to being at home with my wife, with a close circle of friends.
The best director for me is Theodore Angelopoulos. He touched on many difficult topics. His films about the Greeks and their culture. I especially advise you to watch the historical drama “Trilogy. A weeping meadow.” It tells about the history of Greece on the example of one family that returns from Odessa to Greece after the civil war. The film leaves a lot of impressions. After watching, my wife and I can discuss it for another week.
I am inspired by everything except photography. Most of all, I like to look at pictures. Of course, I find interesting authors. For example, I just adore Nadav Kander's pictures. I love working with archival photos. I did this in the project on the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. I still have a lot of archives from there that I haven't even started working with because of the war.
— Is it possible to continue to support attention to the war in Ukraine with photographs?
— Daily news from Ukraine is of little interest to people abroad. Everyone actively read about Bucha, the explosion of the dam of the Kakhovskaya hydroelectric power plant, etc., but we definitely do not need such events. Attention to Ukraine can only be focused on powerful and serious projects. These can be documentaries or photographs. However, our authorities do not understand that in order to create a large-scale in-depth project, and not propaganda, it is necessary to provide access and time for filming to Ukrainian and foreign authors. We are allowed to go to the presbytery for a day together with the pressoficer. Instead, you need to take cultural projects, multimedia projects, work with curators.
In Europe, people constantly go to cinemas, to exhibitions. You need to communicate with them through art. Our authorities must realize that it is necessary to spend money on work with museum and gallery spaces, send artists to art festivals. The authorities should provide access for filming, support documentarians, writers, artists with grant programs, give freedom for creativity, not control. Culture is important.
All my recent interviews are unfortunately about censorship and restricting access to the front line. After the material with Luke Mogelson about the life of our soldiers in the trenches, which was published in The New Yorker magazine, I was summoned for questioning at the SBU. I do not have accreditation from the Armed Forces and I cannot continue to shoot the front line. I do not believe that war is not a time to criticize the authorities. If the patient has gangrene or some other disease, it will not pass by the fact that the person will not be told about it. We need to talk about problems out loud.
Please tell me about the book you are currently working on.
“I came to the United States to finish a book about the war in Ukraine by the fall. I am helped to work on the book by Honorary Dean of ICP (International Center of Photography) Fred Ritchin. He writes a text for a book, does an interview with me. This will be a book about the first two years of a full-scale war in Ukraine, from 2024 there will be one or two photographs. The book is not only about the war, but also my reflections on it. Of course, there will be photographs of the dead, footage of the destruction, but my book is not about active fighting. I think that you can just stick the label “Meditation” to all my works. They are all about contemplation and awareness. When I see many photographers shooting something in one direction, I will definitely turn in the other direction. Therefore, my Maidan of Dignity is a panorama. I can't shoot with everyone.
He did all of his long-term projects himself. I don't need anyone to follow me or be near me. Often before shooting, I conduct visual studies, just walk, look, feel. Photography for me is about feeling, about collecting emotions. The book will be with photos that he shot before the “White Series”. Based on this author's project, I plan to make a separate book.
The material was prepared by Ekaterina Moskalyuk
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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.
