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Photographer Anna Klochko, a new member of the UAAP, shared her thoughts on Sumy and its residents, news and reports, world travels, and the last peaceful image she captured. Through her lens, she captures the intersection of different cultures, war, and human resilience. In this interview, she shares the story of how the full-scale invasion changed her life, visual language, and dreams.
How it all began: my grandfather's film, America, and my first digital camera
My grandfather was a photographer and had a camera. Het is haar hobby — hebben zoals een turner in een fabriek en is ook een musicien in de Sumy orchestra. He took photos for fun. Por cura, Ja imparada je kamera — tako sam izdal s filmkamera.
I got my first digital camera in America during a Work and Travel student program. Con il soldi ho vinto, vengono acquistare un laptop e un camera digitale Canon — un punto e espoche tipicale. That's when I found myself in reportage photography, which has been my favorite genre ever since. After four months of intensive daily work, I completed the program and set off on a trip through the northeastern United States. It was then that I brought back my first real photo project — a reportage called “From Minneapolis to New York.”
Special photo of the last peaceful evening
There is a photograph that is very special to me — even though I really hate it. It was made on the evening of February 23, 2022, on a mobile phone. Then I was in Odessa and was planning to get something for my project StoriesProStories 2.0.
The last photo of that evening is Deribasovskaya Street. My hotel was nearby, and I saw from the window how promoters in costumes worked all day on the street — a horse, a zebra, someone else. Every day they handed out flyers, sometimes drunk, screaming, laughing, then hiding in the back yard of the hotel to wake up again. I saw them every day. And then, on the evening of February 23, they had already completed the work, walked through the illuminated arch — one carried the head of a zebra under his arm, shaking a little. And at the last moment I picked up the phone and made a shot - blurry, fuzzy, as if my hand had twitched.
And this blurry photo became a symbol for me that everything — the fun was over. Against the background of the general feeling, which was then already in the air, that something bad was about to happen, this scene looked like the closing of the curtain. It is as if they will disappear into the darkness, and everything will be different.
This photo looks like an associative card: for someone — just a smeared stain, for me — a sign. Very personal and very difficult.
No joy from a successful shot: how the war reshaped the attitude to shooting
A week before the invasion, I went from Kiev to rest in Odessa. At that time I worked in the agrarian media “Kurkul”. On a short vacation, I did not take a camera, nor a laptop, not even a passport. When it all started, I could not return either to my native Sumy or to the capital, where I lived and worked at that time. Finally, under the pressure of her parents, she decided to leave: first to Germany, then to Canada. There she worked at various jobs to survive.
Then everyone helped each other, showing incredible unity. While still in Germany, I wrote on Facebook that I needed to transfer things from Kiev — including a camera. And through an incredible chain of coincidences, someone's familiar opera singer gave me the contacts of a trucker through whom things were handed to me. I met him on the track near Bonn and picked up the equipment.
In Canada, I worked as a journalist and photojournalist for the agrarian publication Country Life in BC, as well as working on commercial shoots. Subsequently, she returned to Ukraine and to the editorial office of “Kurkul”. We began to travel again to shoot agrarian reports, in particular to Sumy region. And every time I saw a ruined farm or a destroyed farm, I didn't feel any pleasure in shooting. Even if the frame succeeded - light, composition - it did not bring joy.
So I tried to keep a balance. I also shot things that inspire. For example, children engaged in sports tourism in Sumy, despite the ban on going out into the forests. The teachers of the circles organized the training right in the city park by the lake, pulled the ropes - and the children trained. I documented it, too, because it is important for me to show: there is life, there is something that the enemy has not yet reached, and I hope he will not.
Why I don't shoot the news
I hate news, so I've never worked on it. I have always specialized in longlines and reporting. News is a pain in the ass. In Kurkul, I had to replace colleagues in the news block once a month - and that was the worst. But when I was sent to write and shoot, for example, in the Kiev region for my grandfather Vasily — a famous beekeeper, who has the only museum of drinking honey in Ukraine — this was mine. A report in which I interview, photograph, communicate is my format. In the case of grandfather Vasily, it was not without tasting...
In 2024, after my second return from Canada, I ended up in Sumy and worked with the newspaper “Your Chance”. It was in this media that I once began my journalistic activity a long time ago. We agreed that they would help me with accreditation from the Armed Forces.
And then one September morning I heard and saw the shahedeen flying past my house. A few seconds later, two explosions rang out. A couple of minutes later, the editor called and asked to go photograph the consequences to quickly publish the news. At that point, I didn't have accreditation yet, so I couldn't officially shoot, so I was trying to find someone who would give permission. There was chaos around the hospital. Two direct hits. People were carrying the wounded, everything was burning. I never received permission to shoot, but otherwise I was lucky. The Russians used a double strike tactic that day. After 20 minutes, when all the services arrived to eliminate the consequences of the strike, a third drone flew into the crowd. Five people were killed. And I was saved by intuition, I managed to move away.
The day before, I was shooting a report for a German newspaper about FPV drones — the same ones with which the Russians arrange safaris for civilians on the border. The explosives technicians showed me during the interview all the varieties of their trophies. For the first time in my life, I touched the broken “Shahid”. And the next morning I almost fell under another one. No, the news is not for me. I love reporting.
About the people of Sumy and Sumy
When on August 6, 2024, I saw in the news that the Kursk operation had started, I immediately bought a ticket from Canada and returned home. I clearly understood that Russia's response would be — and it would be precisely in Sumy, in Sumy region. So it happened.
After these attacks, I realized that there was not a single person left in my environment who had not been touched by the war. Everyone has their own painful experience. Someone's CAB destroyed a workplace or housing, someone was injured by a drone strike, someone lost relatives. And someone has already gone into the lights himself.
Hundreds of thousands of people remain in Sumy region, the territory of which today borders the front, in some places gradually becoming part of the gray zone. These people are the invisible rear, holding critical infrastructure, supporting the economy, and doing their jobs to the endless sounds of sirens and explosions. They pay the same taxes as residents of quieter regions, putting themselves at risk every day just by going to work. And it would be unfair to show only sorrow and ruin, bypassing the dignity, courage and strength with which these people hold on.
In the frontline towns and villages there is also a place for light. That is why I do not neglect photo stories about those who resist every day - not with weapons, but through work, education, sports, culture. The same reports about tourism and dance coaches who, despite all obstacles, take care of the physical and mental health of children, introduce them to the world, form communication skills, expand their worldview. First of all, these photo stories are for the residents of the border. That they see themselves not only as victims, but as carriers of incredible strength.
60 photos, 20 stories, one space: how the project “StoriesProStories” was born
In 2020, while still living in Sumy, I conceived my first photo exhibition. At that point, I already had enough visual material, so I implemented the project StoriesProStories. His idea is vertical black and white snapshots, stylized as Instagram Stories. There were twenty triptychs in the exposition — a total of 60 photos, united by themes, although they were shot in different countries and at different times. I deliberately did not sign the shots, but for almost two weeks every day I attended the exhibition at the SSU Congress Center, gave tours and personally told the stories behind each photo.
Recently I decided to renew and develop my project on visual anthropology StoriesProStories. I really wanted to start with my native Sumy — again from the favorite place for creative people of the city, the Congress Center of Sumy. It was the main cultural center — a space for meetings of artists, photo exhibitions, film screenings and conferences.
But instead of an exhibition StoriesProStories 2.0I had to write a report about the missile strike on the Congress Center, during which 35 people died.
Whether it will be restored, I don't know yet. I have an idea to organize an exhibition in Kyiv and turn it, in particular, into a way to raise funds for the reconstruction of the Congress Center. For the mists, this place really has a profound meaning.
Once, my fellow journalists and I had already done a photo exhibition there and showed a documentary film created within the framework of the international project of the Marshall Fund. It was an initiative for journalists and photographers from the countries of the Black Sea region who experienced conflicts: there were Turks, Georgians, Armenians, Ukrainians, even Russians. We first shot short stories at home, and then worked together on the film in Tbilisi to combine our fragments into a single picture.
We filmed our story about the migrants from Donbas, who have lived in Sumy since 2014. And you know, even after many conversations with them, I didn't fully understand what they were feeling. Even when I visited Tserovan, a settlement built in Georgia specifically for refugees after the 2008 war. This place is rightfully considered one of the many symbols of Russian aggression. Everyone as one we interviewed there said the same thing: “We want to go home.” But then I did not realize that this story could happen to anyone. And with me too.
Historical reconstruction, peaceful Trostyanets — and the return after the war
After returning, I lived in Sumy again. I have always wanted to shoot and write: so that text and visual reporting complement each other. Photos often convey what the text will not say, and vice versa.
Even before the full-scale invasion, I filmed the festival of historical reconstruction of the “Old Fortress” in Trostianka on the “soap box” Canon 600D, which took place in the famous architectural monument — the Round Yard. There were teams from all over Ukraine and even Europe. In medieval armor, with weapons in their hands, participants arranged spectacular fights just in front of the audience. And the girls competed in the category “archery”. It was really bright.
In 2023, I returned to Trostianets again — this time as part of a project initiated by UNESCO and the Institute of Mass Information. I documented the effects of war, including damage to cultural heritage sites. I found a plot with the estate of König, bordering the Round Yard and part of the “Museum and Exhibition Center “Trostianetsky”. Ten years ago, this place was full of life, emotions, colors. And now there is a sad silence, holes in the facade after mortar shelling and a sense of loss.
But despite everything, the hope for revival is given by the 19-year-old keeper of museum funds Angelina — red-haired, energetic and in love with the archaeology and history of Ukraine. She does not even consider the possibility of leaving her native land and dreams of building her future here - doing her favorite local history business, preserving our cultural heritage.
Movie fishermen from Nikolaevka and a project waiting for its second life
Previously, I worked for a long time in agrojournalism, shot reports. One of the most important projects is the shooting of 2021 in the village of Mykolaivka on the Black Sea, within the framework of a report about local fishermen. One May morning, at dawn, I went out to sea with twenty fishermen and two cameras.
All those guys are extremely textured heroes, real movie characters. The shots were cinematic, and their faces and characters were like those of 1950s Hollywood cinema. I tried to develop this project, applied for grants on environmental or related topics - but, frankly, I did not win.
Perhaps it is worth returning to Bessarabia and finding out how they have fared over the years — and whether they are still able to practice their craft.
More Light: The Philosophy of Color During War
I always add a little color to my photos, but overall I tend to make them lighter and brighter. Because when you shoot in the winter in Sumy region — say, a broken farm — no matter how much you try to mitigate the horror of what you see with color, the frame still looks very sad. And this, frankly, is logical.
But in general, in my work, I adhere to the following idea: if it is not a direct editorial task — to film the consequences of the shelling — then I try to show something positive. I want to inspire people to continue doing what they love, rejoice every day when you wake up.
It seems to me that this is a kind of “philosophy of the frontier” — banal, but sincere: to rejoice that a new day has come. Over the past nine months in Sumy, you can count on the fingers of one hand the nights when the “shaheeds” did not fly. Most of those that arrive in Kiev fly over Sumy — over the houses of people who are just trying to fall asleep. And wake up in the morning. But while this flock is buzzing overhead, every time you think: “Will it fly by us — or pass us by?” And this thought is on repeat.
Such daily proximity to death changes the focus. And, to be honest, I am more inspired not by stars or public figures, but by teachers and leaders of extracurricular groups, which I have already mentioned - those who continue to work with children in these conditions. They are real heroes.
On the importance of traveling and knowing the world around
In 2023, I had to transport Ukrainian tourists a little to the Azores and to Iceland. It was a great opportunity to take vivid pictures — and at the same time get a new experience.
During the trip in our group, a discussion often arose: is it appropriate for Ukrainians to travel when there is a war at home?
Personally, I am convinced that it is appropriate — because you need to have the resource to return and live on, to work, to volunteer, to keep yours. And this conviction only strengthened after one situation at the top of a volcano on the island of San Miguel. There, an emotional conflict broke out between our group and the locals over the Ukrainian flag. They said we should all work in military factories at home 24/7. And it was then that an 88-year-old Israeli woman who was nearby and who had experienced the horrors of the Jewish ghetto in Poland, sternly but essentially explained to the Portuguese visa: people who live long in a state of war have the right to vent. Because without inner renewal, there is no strength to fight on.
In addition, in a world where social networks and algorithms shape our perception of reality, we increasingly find ourselves in information bubbles. This distorts the perception of other cultures and people. This is especially noticeable in relation to those who belong to distant or unfamiliar ethnicities. Only travel, as well as deep fiction (as opposed to the non-fiction), make it possible to truly understand the values, characters and priorities of other societies. Only by seeing and living it on the spot can you learn how to find a common language with these people.
And if we talk specifically about photography, travel is also a unique opportunity for “those who paint with light”. After all, in different latitudes and natural zones, light, color and texture are significantly different from our usual ones. For example, facial expressions may differ in representatives of different peoples, which is partly due to the peculiarities of the articulation of sounds in different languages, which affect the formation of motor skills of the facial muscles. And the light in the Arctic Circle, say, in Iceland during white nights is a separate magic: at 10:30 p.m. on a summer evening, it looks completely unusual, forcing the brain to readjust. The same applies to the color combinations and forms of landscapes - for example, on the volcanic islands of the Atlantic, the palette looks completely different, unlike anything from the native environment. And it is precisely such encounters with other light, color and texture that expand the visual perception of the photographer, form new meanings and a deeper understanding of the visual language of the world.
Camera, rosary and inspiration: how photography led to the Vatican
I have never been closely associated with the Catholic Church. So, at one time I enthusiastically reread the novels of Umberto Eco, but in general I was more interested in Buddhism. It was only during her life in Vancouver, where the majority of the Ukrainian diaspora are parishioners of the UGCC, that she touched the world of the Catholic faith a little.
Recently, a colleague suggested that I prepare material for an American Catholic magazine. The task was to collect the stories of successful social entrepreneurship projects implemented by “Caritas” on the basis of the parishes of the UGCC. I went to the Ternopil region, did a report, got acquainted with the local employees of “Caritas”.
The photographer for this project was already contracted, so I focused primarily on the text — although, I admit, I could not resist and made a few shots for myself. In every parish I came across extremely bright and sincere people. In the church of the city of Chortkiv, I was even given a wooden icon and a rosary. I asked if I could take her on a trip, and I was told, “Yes, she protects.” And I was going to Italy — and, of course, I took it with me.
The trip to Italy was semi-spontaneous — to relax and test the new Sigma lens that Sony has just bought for its camera. I just wanted to take a picture of a new one for my project StoriesProStories 2.0.
I was in Florence when the news broke of the Pope's death (by the way, Babel reported it earlier than many Italian media). I told my Italian friends: “The Pope is dead”, and they were still Googling in Italian — the local media had not yet had time to react at that time.
I was very interested in how Italians react to the death of the Pope. In Florence, I watched the people closely — but it's a city with a lot of tourists, so I can't say that everyone was deeply immersed in mourning. However, just 10 minutes after the news in the central bookstore, the entire window was decorated with books about Pope Francis — marketing above all else.
“The Light of Rome and the Shadow of Farewell”: How Italy Survived the Death of the Pope
The next few days in small Italian towns we saw portraits of the Pope in churches, flowers, signs of mourning. I was supposed to fly out of Rome on April 26, so I came to the capital after traveling south — just one day before. On April 25 in Rome, people said goodbye to Pope Francis. His coffin was displayed in St. Peter's Basilica in the Vatican.
I was almost sure that it was impossible to get there — about 500,000 people arrived at the Vatican that day. Queues from the very morning, everything is closed. But I was with the locals. And they are the adventurers. We approached security, introduced me as a journalist. The camera in the hands is already an argument. And friends were turned over as translators. I think the security guard just forgot to ask for accreditation.
So we quickly found ourselves in St. Peter's Square, and I managed to remove the material. On the approaches to the place where the coffin was installed, it was forbidden to shoot. But as we walked further into the basilica, I saw people taking pictures. I also did a few shots — very carefully and with a deep understanding of the context. It's not about sensation. It's about being present in the moment.
Motivation, where I did not expect it
The atmosphere on the day of farewell to the Pope was not quite what I had imagined. Yes, thousands of pilgrims, monks and nuns from all over the world gathered, but at the same time there was a feeling that for many it had become more of a spectacle. People wanted to capture this historic moment for social networks — shoot a video, take a photo.
But there was one moment that touched me deeply. We went to dinner at a small family trattoria in Rome, and there was a family sitting next door — a father and two adult sons. One of the sons had a severe form of autism. We started talking and my father told us that two months ago he lost his wife, with whom he had lived for more than 50 years. It is still difficult for him to explain to his son that his mother is no longer there - his son waits for her return every day and tries to understand why they will no longer go to the sea together. And suddenly my father asked us, “Are you going to the Pope?” We answered that yes, although until this point we were still hesitant. And he said, “When you are there, please ask him, and everyone else in heaven, to help my son.” After these words, we realized that we had to go.
For us, Ukrainians, after everything we have experienced, sometimes it is difficult to feel something deep — we seem to be emotionally exhausted. We are envious, normal life continues in Italy. The beauty of local architecture and nature is one thing, but more importantly, there is no war here. However, even without war, people face ordinary human problems and tragedies. I hope that in heaven they heard that father's request for his son.
New World vs Old World
Rome is a city steeped in thousands of years of history and millions of stories. I spent a lot of time in Canada and clearly felt that the American continent is a truly new world, without the historical layers and the cultural depth that is inherent in Europe. In Italy everything is different. For people of visual arts, this is a real paradise and an inexhaustible source of inspiration. St. Peter's Basilica, the architecture of Rome, the narrow streets of mountain towns on the Amalfi Coast — all this is fascinating, especially when you realize that it was created without AutoCAD and other digital tools that today help build accurate 3D models of buildings and entire settlements.
And also the light. It seems to me that even the lobed wall in Italy looks photogenic. This is a special magic of color and light. I have a theory: at certain latitudes, the angle of incidence of the sun's rays creates a specific atmosphere, especially in the “golden” or “blue” hours. It works great in Italy. There, the colors — ocher, terracotta, shades of orange — literally add luxury and zest to every shot. And in our latitudes, yellow and its shades often cause completely different associations - sometimes even approaching depressive ones.
About dream photo
To be honest, I do not dream of taking a single “picture per million”. I dream of an international career as a photojournalist like Steve McCarey's. He is my idol in reportage photography. I recently gave myself a big book for my birthday. In addition to the legendary “Afghan Girl”, it has dozens of remarkable frames and entire series that have become part of the visual history of mankind.
For me, McCarthy is not just a photographer. He fulfills an educational mission. This was especially important in those days when there was no Internet. And photography was the only window into a distant, unknown world. When he was in Pakistan and crossed the border with the mujahideen into Afghanistan — just a week before the Soviet invasion — he became the only Western photographer in the region. But it's not just that he was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. He was brave. Many, even with a camera, would not dare to go deep into areas controlled by armed groups to film an armed conflict. And he did it. And these pictures became the foundation of his outstanding career. His courage is amazing.
Another thing that is particularly close to me in his approach is balance. He photographed conflicts and tragedies, but at the same time — culture, everyday life, beauty. What exists in spite of war, outside its borders. His work can be studied as a course in cultural anthropology.
I am also very interested in showing my compatriots the world — and points of contact with other people and cultures. Many of my projects are about the outside, about the other. But when I work somewhere, I don't just shoot — I tell locals about Ukraine, I show them photos from our reality. It is a visual, human, cultural exchange. And if I can visit different parts of the world and create not just individual shots, but full photo reports — this will be the realization of my dream.
Anna Klochko is a Ukrainian journalist, documentary photographer, and photojournalist with many years of experience working in national and international media. Anna's professional practice combines photojournalism, visual anthropology, and reportage photography at the intersection of social, political, and cultural issues. The author has been involved in photography for over ten years, including more than eight years professionally. Her photographs have been published in Taz.de (Germany), Country Life in BC (Canada), Western Canadian Dairy News, and Ukrainian media outlets such as Latifundist Media, Vash Shans, and others. Anna participated in a project by UNESCO and the Institute of Mass Information (IMI), documenting the loss and destruction of cultural heritage sites in the Sumy region as a result of the war. She is actively involved in exhibitions, and her work has been featured in the photo exhibition "Behind the Lens: Culture Under Attack" (UNESCO, IMI, Kyiv, 2024) and received awards at international competitions, including the MAXQDA Photo Contest in Germany. In 2020, her solo photo exhibition #StoriesPROStories was held at the Congress Center of Sumy State University in Sumy. Anna has a technical education in applied materials science, as well as additional specialization in psychology and cultural anthropology. This interdisciplinary experience, combined with several years of work in agricultural journalism, has largely shaped her authorial approach to visual narrative — precise, empathetic, and meaningful. Anna's Instagram.
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