Revolution of Dignity.
Overnight fights between special police force Berkut and demonstrators. Maidan protest movement.
Kiev, Ukraine 2014
Overnight fights between special police force Berkut and demonstrators. Maidan protest movement.
Kiev, Ukraine 2014
Those Who Stayed
A few days after the full-scale invasion of Russia in February 2022, I went to Ukraine. I had been documenting the war in this country for ten years, but this time, I decided to approach it differently.
While the eyes of the whole world were on the political and military situation, as well as on the people who were leaving the country, I felt it was important to focus on those who consciously decided against leaving, those who decided to stay.
History is often told through the lens of military actions, battles, victories, and defeats.
The voices of ordinary people often remain unheard. And these are always civilians who suffer the most. Therefore,
I considered their perspective even more important. What makes a mother of a disabled child send her son abroad to keep him safe, while she comes back to the country and gets involved in making Molotov cocktails? Why does an elderly couple stay in their house when their village gets under occupation? What motivates the group of artists to stay in the constantly bombed city and organize help for those in need? Why does a woman in her early twenties, instead of leaving her country to continue education, choose to pay daily visits to the local hospital to listen to the soldiers who have just lost their limbs?
Dnipro, Ukraine 2022
Borodyanka, Ukraine 2022
Road from Dnipro to Zhytomyr.
Ukraine 2022
Ukraine 2022
Hanna Kotelnikova is a survivor from Mariupol. She has managed to escape from the besieged city in her car with six other people, including her parents, and three dogs.
Dnipro, Ukraine 2022
Dnipro, Ukraine 2022
Julia and Zenaid, inhabitants of Saltvika, a residential area in Kharkiv.
Kharkiv, Ukraine 2022
Kharkiv, Ukraine 2022
Inhabitants of Saltivka, a heavily damaged residential area in Kharkiv which suffers from constant shelling. They have been living permanently in the basements for over two months.
Kharkiv, Ukraine 2022
Kharkiv, Ukraine 2022
Kharkiv, Ukraine 2022
Wedding ceremony of volunteer doctors Nastya and Anton. When they got married, Serhiy Zhadan said: 'With their love, these strong and courageous young people are fighting back against the dark reality that surrounds us.'
Kharkiv, Ukraine 2022
Kharkiv, Ukraine 2022
Ukraine 2022
Ukraine 2022
Ukraine 2022
Ukraine 2022
Ukraine 2022
Hostomel, Ukraine 2022
Cargo 200.
Dnipro, Ukraine 2022
Dnipro, Ukraine 2022
Premature infant at the hospital in Zhytomyr. The neonatal ward has been transferred underground. The hospital was being shelled, so the doctors and nurses decided to move the whole neonatal ward to the basement. No sooner had they finished doing this than a bomb hit the building opposite. All the windows in the hospital were blown out, but no infants were hurt. The girl I photographed was only five minutes old. It was also her birth and her life that the doctors were fighting for.
Ukraine 2022
Ukraine 2022
‘We are renting a flat on the 19th floor, so when the first news about the war came, we were overwhelmed with fear that we would be living so high up. If there are air raids, a high-rise building like this can easily collapse.’
Kharkiv, Ukraine 2022
Do Not Turn On the Lights
We scroll through photos on the screens of our phones, read updates about the power and gas cutting out, the internet going down. We have become accustomed to the fact that somewhere far away, the evil of war is being perpetrated. War is also raging right next door. It invades homes that are not thousands of kilometers away, but tens. It comes unannounced, in the morning, without warning.
Evening. A district of blocks of flats resembling a human anthill. I live between four thin walls. And yet I cannot hear, on the other side of these thin walls, the crying of children, the ringtones of phones, the roar of the vacuum cleaner. On the other side there is only deafening silence. I look out the window. Aside from a few lights, everything is cloaked in darkness. The people have left, or they are sitting in the dark. On February 24, 2022, in Ukraine, a regulation was introduced, or rather, an urgent public safety request: Do not turn on the lights after sunset.
We scroll through photos on the screens of our phones, read updates about the power and gas cutting out, the internet going down. We have become accustomed to the fact that somewhere far away, the evil of war is being perpetrated. War is also raging right next door. It invades homes that are not thousands of kilometers away, but tens. It comes unannounced, in the morning, without warning.
Evening. A district of blocks of flats resembling a human anthill. I live between four thin walls. And yet I cannot hear, on the other side of these thin walls, the crying of children, the ringtones of phones, the roar of the vacuum cleaner. On the other side there is only deafening silence. I look out the window. Aside from a few lights, everything is cloaked in darkness. The people have left, or they are sitting in the dark. On February 24, 2022, in Ukraine, a regulation was introduced, or rather, an urgent public safety request: Do not turn on the lights after sunset.
Ukraine 2022
Kiev, Ukraine 2014
'Tomorrow we will wake up one day closer to our victory'
- Serhiy Zhadan
Public Project
Those Who Stayed
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