In a time of disinformation, comparison beyond doubt and conformism, I wanted to raise the question on how to read and interpret the landscape of Ukraine. I saw the landscape as a collection of fragments sewed together by socially constructed meanings, and I wondered if we would ever be able to overcome our stereotypes and expectations we already had. What is the value of truth if it only serves our comfort? Could a photo book still adjust the dominant image we have of Ukraine? In Anastasiia I define the landscape admitting it will always be subjective, just like the memories, as it is constructed in the present.

In Anastasiia a dialogue is reconstructed between Anastasiia and her lover, a photographer. This fictional, narrative-driven story is inspired by true events and covers a period of two years in which Ukraine faced major changes. Anastasiia is above all an interpretation and exploration of her everyday life and a reflection on intimacy in times of the Russian annexation and information warfare.

The history of the landscape is never absolute; it is in a constant state of afflux and cannot be frozen. You can compare the history of Ukraine to a rope that consists of many short threads, but of which there is not one that reaches from beginning to end. Social and temporal disparities and differences are developing new lifestyles and visual forms, incessantly modifying the urban and anthropological landscapes of Ukraine.
I depict the inextricable relationship between Anastasiia and her surroundings – she is rooted in the landscape and the landscape in her. She recognizes the layers of history, the anomalies, the good spots and dark corners. By conveying her memories, Anastasiia sheds her very own light on the landscape by opening up new perspectives and by demonstrating the fascinating way Ukrainian people deal with recent circumstances in Kyiv, Odesa and Crimea.

Perhaps Anastasiia is a book that is in contrast or conflict with the current interests and barrage of photo books, but I believe that the only subjects that really count are moving in long, very long timespans – relationships, landscapes and the history of society. The dialogue in Anastasiia tells a universal story: that individuals interpret their surroundings differently and that it remains uncharted territory to analyse their own experiences and perception. The establishment of your personal identity, your self, raises existential questions on the relationship with the other. How well do I know the person with whom I have a relationship? Does the relationship with the other become a part of my identity?

In the current Ukrainian geopolitical discourse, there is a quest to define and reflect on the cultural identity that embraces the mind-set of the generation born after independence (1991). The country's image can shift as rapidly and as dramatically as people's perception itself. With Anastasiia, I aim to contribute to this understanding, and invite to reimagine: to see in different ways.