Dusty window seals and creaky doors, a lost shoe and a forgotten toy, cracks on the cup and destroyed walls, lost dogs, dried plants… The wind in the school hallways plays in torn curtains silently. A school. The school. Your school. Your curtains, your family, your house, your garden, your cup, your shoe, your land, your river, your heart that is broken, your home that is lost, your windows that are shuttered… Your brother, your sister, your cousin, your nephew, your school friend, your roommate, your uncle, your aunt, your neighbor, your grandma, your grandpa, your father, your mother…
There’s no pain, there’s your pain, there’s no loss, there’s your loss, there’s not fear, there’s your fear, there’s no story, there’s your story
* * *
When the full-scale war broke out in Ukraine, I felt crushed. My former country’s military was committing unspeakable violence, and the silence from many of my fellow countrymen only made it worse. At first, I felt helpless, but soon, that helplessness turned into action. I focused on volunteering, trying to do whatever I could to help. But as time passed, I felt the need to pick up my camera again. I wanted to document, reflect, and process what was happening.
My first trip was to Poland to photograph the stories of Ukrainian refugees. The next year, I spent three months in Ukraine, photographing the effects of war. As a fine art photographer, I’m used to focusing on the aftermath of events, but I wasn’t sure I could capture what was happening in real time. What I came to realize, though, is that the moment you click the shutter, it’s already in the past. No matter what’s happening, that image is always a reflection.
So, I stopped worrying about capturing the immediate violence. Instead, I focused on what’s left behind: the craters from missiles, the buildings reduced to rubble, and the quiet aftermaths of destruction. It’s not just about physical damage. It’s about loss: loss of life, dreams, relationships, futures. War takes away so much more than just bodies; it erases the bonds we share, the hopes we have, and the paths we might have walked together.
I returned to Ukraine in the fall of 2024 to continue this work, trying to capture the longer-term impact of the war, the scars that stay long after the fighting stops. Through these photographs, I want to show the invisible damage, the emotional and social toll of war, that’s left behind, even when the world moves on.
.
The images document Ukrainian Refugees at Warsaw Humanitarian Aid Center and Ukrainian Refugees waiting for their papers at the Hostel "Hotelik Okecie, 39".
Shot in Warsaw, Poland in June-July 2022.
