Mikhail Palinchak is a well-known Ukrainian documentary photographer. In 2014, after documenting the Maidan Revolution, Palinchak became Ukrainian ex-President Petro Poroshenko’s personal photographer, shooting him at diplomatic meetings in various countries for several years. On February 24, Mikhail woke up to the sound of air raid sirens. Since then, he’s remained in the Kyiv region and has dedicated all his time to photographing the effects of war. Palinchak captured the city's first evacuation efforts, people hiding in shelters, and the territorial defense forces’ preparation; he was one of the first people to enter liberated Bucha. In May, at an exhibit called “The Disasters of War: Goya and the Present” in Vienna, his photos were shown alongside Goya’s anti-war paintings. Meduza is publishing Palinchak’s photos along with his own commentary.
At five in the morning on February 24, still half-asleep, I heard the sound of air-raid sirens for the first time. And though I’d never heard it before, I immediately understood that it was warning of danger. Several minutes later, an explosion rang out very close by, shaking the windows. I was completely awake after that.
Since then, life in Ukraine has changed dramatically, and the sound of the sirens has been there every step of the war. Ukrainians have gotten used to it, but it’s still a constant reminder that we’re living in a new world — an unthinkable, dangerous one.
On the first day, I sent my son to Uzhgorod (a city in the Zakarpatska region in western Ukraine), and then I grabbed my camera.
I’m a documentary photographer — I shoot reality without distortion or preparation. But there are two ways to do that: objectively and subjectively. Since the war’s early days, I’ve captured events in documentary shoots for photo agencies, but I quickly realized that it’s not possible to tell this kind of story in a detached, complete way. So I started filming “my own war”: I’ve visualized the sensations that war creates and caught the images that allow me to express what I feel and how it’s changing my own life.
I have a mathematical mindset — I have to catalog everything. I try to split reality into its components and work with them. When you’re posting a video on YouTube, it offers you hashtags to choose from. I literally shoot in tags — small details and micro-topics, which ultimately combine to form something bigger, like a mosaic. Of course, every shot has its own story to tell, but the full statement doesn’t come together until all of the details have been gathered.
I began this project before the war started. At that point, I didn’t think there would be an invasion at all, but because of the constant news, there was a lot of tension. In Kyiv, the first visual symptoms started to appear: soldiers were teaching civilians to handle weapons, and people started lining up to sign up for the territorial defense forces. I thought it would all be over soon, and that by filming the preparation for war, I was recording something that wouldn’t happen. Then, on February 24, the invasion started.
Since then, I’ve been in Kyiv and the Kyiv region the entire time; I was one of the first people to photograph Bucha, Hostomel, and the other liberated territories. I saw dozens of dead bodies, how people died from missiles, and the things the Russian invaders left behind.
Now, when I look at the shots I took, I see how things have changed before my eyes. At first, the pictures were somewhat naive: the patriotic youth with automatic weapons and smiles. Over time, reality became darker and darker.
Some photographs in this collection show cruelty, violence, and death, but most of them are not hidden behind the warning message we usually place over such photos. Our goal in this photo series is to show the war as it really is.
Photos and text by Mikhail Palinchak
Photo Editor: Evgeny Feldman
Translation by Sam Breazeale