On May 20, 2022, the withdrawal of Ukrainian defenders from Azovstal was completed, a symbol of invulnerability that held the defense in Mariupol surrounded by Russian troops for 86 days. Families of the defenders of “Azovstal” are still waiting for the return of their loved ones from Russian captivity. Today, the Ukrainian Association of Professional Photographers publishes footage of the photographer, at that time a soldier of the Azov regiment Dmitry (Orest) Kozatsky, taken on the territory of the plant during the defense, as well as a conversation with him — about photography, war, captivity and the right to pause.
“We should have filmed more war.
We had to take more pictures of the war. We then focused on civilians — most of the interviews and materials were about them. But now I regret that I did not take positions, did not shoot those who were really worthy of this publicity. I will not say that those who are in my portraits are not worthy of attention. And there are people who really deserve recognition. And I missed the opportunity to show them.
I regret that at that time I did not have more courage, because it was in resistance, in battle, in these people that the real strength of Azovstal was. And that's exactly what needed to be documented.
Once in America, after the captivity, a representative of the authorities told me: “When we saw your photos from Azovstal, it was an impetus for us to strengthen assistance to Ukraine.” And this was a moment of realization for me:
photography will not stop the war, but it can cause emotion. Emotion can change something.
Today, in times of social networks and visual noise, it is difficult to reach people with text. And the visual — it grips deeply. Foreigners I've talked to say all the time:
The photo is what leaves a mark. We had to shoot more war. Not for myself, for those who had to see it.
“Photography was a way to disconnect from the hell around”
For me, the photo on “Azovstal” was the moment when I could disconnect from the hell around. It was a creative process, even in such conditions. I took the camera infrequently — only a few times. Mostly I shot everything on an iPhone.
For example, when we recorded an interview with my friend “Nava”, in which her husband died at Azovstal, I then adjusted the light in the bunker, set the frame. And it kind of separated me from what was going on. When you are creative, your head switches.
I don't think it was a big job — the photo was more of a side effect. The main thing then was to shoot the video — it conveyed the situation better. Therefore, the photos came out by accident. Through the prism of time, I understand that it was necessary to shoot more. There was too much material. But this is a life lesson.
These 25 photos have become important not because I value them that way — I don't allow myself to evaluate my own work at all. But people say they are important. Perhaps because then there was no information, and especially — visual. Therefore, these pictures became the only window into that reality. I'm joking: if Azovstal had an antitrust committee, I wouldn't have passed it, because I had a monopoly on photography.
“More important is the safety of the people in the photo”
Previously, some unpublished footage from “Azovstal” published Kyiv Independent. But in general, almost all the photos from the series have subsequently already been posted somewhere. Initially, there were a lot of restrictions — primarily in terms of locations.
I just picked the pictures I liked, processed them — and posted them right away. There was no point or time to look for something extra. And only then, when I flipped through my Google Drive, I found more photos that were uploaded, but not used. Then I also gave them to journalists for publication.
Initially, it was important above all not to “burn” the place where we are: the bunker, the position, but even more importantly - the safety of the people in the photo. Some of them are still in Russian captivity. And the stories of prisoners are a minefield, you never know how best: to show or keep secret. I consulted with the Azov command whether certain footage could be published. And then we decided to add 10-15 more pictures.
“I was just doing my job. But I felt it was important.”
At the time, at Azovstal, I did not think about the global significance of my photographs. I had no such ambitions or plans. I was just doing my job.
But there was a clear inner feeling: this is important and it needs to be fixed.
There was an understanding that the attention of the world was focused on Mariupol and that part of that attention was due to the defenders themselves and our press service. We talked about it. We showed. And then the team played an incredibly powerful role Associated Press— Yevhen Maloletka, Mstislav Chernov, Vasilisa Stepanenko. They documented how Russians bomb civilians. And their cadres literally tore up the information space. They became a breakthrough.
It seems to me that my photos have already reached people by inertia after them. And I have a lot of respect for that job. It's hard to appreciate it — it was so important.
“Ethics was dead in Mariupol”
I had a clear feeling: in Mariupol ethics is dead. She was just killed. When you live in a complete apocalypse, it no longer works.
One thing is to shoot the “arrival” in Kiev, when there is a coffee shop with filter coffee 100 meters away. And quite another — when there is death around you, ruins, and everything screams for the end. And in this reality, ethics is not on the agenda. You see: maybe it's the last days. And it is necessary to fix.
There were moments when I was filming in the hospital bunker after arrival — there were boys and girls injured, covered with concrete slabs. It may have seemed unethical, but it seemed to me that it was critically important. Because if I don't take it off, no one will know about this death. There will be no trace.
Sometimes there were conflicts. Some people didn't like what I was shooting. But globally — I've always tried to act with respect. I never recorded an interview without consent. From the photo, everyone saw that I was walking with a camera. And I don't remember a single instance of someone coming up after that and saying, “Why did you shoot me?”
“I wanted to do this shot, so I had to do a self-portrait”
The best thing about this photograph is that people themselves invent contexts, stories, meanings for it. And for me, this is a sign of art, when there is just a picture, but there is an image to which everyone thinks something of their own.
But the truth is very simple. We had a bunker where we lived, and there was another where I came to take pictures of the guys. Between them is a long passage through tunnels. I have seen this ray of light coming through from above several times. First, I took a few shots on the phone — just to see what it looks like in the frame. And then, when I was walking with the camera, I decided to take a photo.
There is one nuance: sometimes, when a creative idea appears, and there is no model nearby, I take a picture of myself. Not often, but it happens. So it was this time. I wanted to make this frame, so I had to do a self-portrait. There were several duplicates and I chose the one that later became the most famous.
As for the beam itself, everything is very technical: after the shelling, a hole appeared in the roof of the bunker, and sunlight passed through it. Constant shelling raised a lot of dust into the air, and it, as you know, creates this visible beam effect. All the magic is in the dust and the sun. There was no additional processing there.
“Most of the footage was destroyed.”
Most of the footage, unfortunately, was destroyed. There were ideas - hide the hard drive, bury it somewhere. But this is too risky: it is not known how many years the rusnya will still be there. And I just didn't have time to sit and cut out of hours of video that doesn't threaten our fighters.
I tried in the last days before the captivity to upload some of the files to Google Drive. But Starlink was one on all, and the data rate dropped dramatically. A lot simply did not have time to pass.
Google Photos saved me a lot — pictures were automatically uploaded from the phone for the entire period on Azovstal. Thanks to this, it was possible to preserve at least part of the history.
I don't have any hidden archives. It seems that everything he had was either already handed over to journalists or used somewhere in the cinema.
“I bought the first camera for combat”
The camera on “Azovstal” is my favorite Sony Alpha 6300. This is the first camera I ever bought myself. Before that, he took pictures with someone else's camera: at school - from a photo circle, at the university - a camera in a department store, then borrowed it from friends. And he bought this in 2019 for combat - he saved and bought it.
This camera went through the Svitlodar arc with me, the interview, the service in the press center “Azov”, and the whole “Azovstal” - to the very end. I did not take her captive. This was forbidden by agreement — no equipment was taken with them.
And after my release I was given a new camera — it was a very touching moment. It was organized by “Pros”. My friend Natalka Schuka, who made stories about me, asked what kind of camera I had, what lens. And then in the morning broadcast after the captivity, I was presented with a new camera.
This camera came in handy right away. I remember that it was somewhere on October 8, 2022, and on October 10 — the first mass arrivals in Kiev. I woke up from the explosions, opened the news, and just got together, hid the camera in my backpack, told the nurses I was going “for coffee” — and called a taxi.
It was my first job after captivity. Then he burned very hard with it. Because when you are fired, there is a feeling of guilt - as if you have to do something, to continue. And for me, it was a way to get back to business.
I took portraits of them providing first aid. But I did not publish or sign that these were my shots. I was supposed to be in rehab. I didn't want anyone to have a problem because of it. But the photos remained. And that camera has passed its course - and now it's at home. It has already passed through the Ministry of Defense.
“I hate taking pictures.”
After my captivity, photography ceased to be therapy for me. On the contrary, everything went in the opposite direction. Now I am preparing a joint exhibition with PEN and want to call it simply: “I hate taking pictures.”. She is about my inner state, about photos taken from 2022 to 2025, and about how the attitude towards my own business is changing. The exhibition will include “Azovstal”, and portraits for Superhumans, and flooding in the Nikolaev area, and arrivals on “Akhmatdyt”.
When society builds an image of you and expects you to continue to conform to that image, it becomes difficult. Like, you should only take brilliant pictures. I screwed myself. Because everyone thinks that I am “the same photographer” and that every new job should be unique, strong. And sometimes you just can't give it. In creativity, too, there is a resource, and at some point I exhausted myself with it so much that I began to hate photography.
The Ministry of Defense added a routine: continuous shooting without creativity, without air, and you can't stop — because it's work.
I became a hostage to the image of a “successful photographer”. He created a cage for himself. I did not give the right to just take and remove something imperfect. And now — put the photo on pause. I rarely take the camera in my hands. Sometimes I shoot something on my phone — and it's really fun.
But I know for sure: I will not abandon the photo. Can't a thing you've loved since childhood just disappear because of external pressure. I gave myself time to relax, reboot, and then maybe get back to reporting. Or maybe go into something new, we'll see. Now I work as a project manager — I want to develop in something else, because you can't be a person with one photo.
Of course, despite everything, I will always continue to show footage from Azovstal. The most important thing is context. I'm not appropriating these photos. For the credit is not only mine, but all those who held arms and defended Mariupol. But I want to be able to love photography — not because “it's necessary”, but for real. So for now I put the photo on pause.
“They were not allowed into Kherson because he did not have a combat order”
I had a very strong desire to shoot again in the combat zone. But there must have been a deep fear somewhere — because I hadn't been there for a long time. I'm sure I would have taken good pictures. But work in the Ministry of Defense did not allow this. Or I was just “tolerant” who could not insist on his own and cancel a business trip. Everything is complicated, both legally and bureaucratically.
For example, when the Russians blew up the Kakhovsk hydroelectric power plant, everyone went to Kherson — journalists from all over the world. But I, the military man, was not allowed there, because he did not have a combat order. I had to stay within the Nikolaev area. Actually, it is from there that the pictures that got into the exhibition, because that's how it works — through the system, restrictions and permits.
But I do not lose hope, I want to go to Donbas someday — sometimes it drags there. I don't know what to call it — passion, attraction to combat? When I was still living in Mariupol, I often traveled to the neighborhood of Vostochny, closest to the front. Grabbed coffee, walked the streets, listened to explosions — dumb romanticization, perhaps. But this passion and involvement in war is there, and it has not disappeared anywhere.
“I want photography to become a hobby again”
Perhaps I will return to photojournalism, but now it is important for me to gain expertise in something else. I don't want to be tied to just a photo.
At the same time — honor and praise for those who remain in this field. I have no idea where people get the strength and inspiration to document war all the time. For example, I clearly feel: when I lack resources, the quality of pictures also falls.
Liberova, Maloletka — for me these are mastodons of Ukrainian photography. I don't know how they handle it, but if I ever go back to the photo, I want it not out of obligation, but because I really love it. To make photography a hobby that brings pleasure again.
“Take photos of the last prisoners who were released”
This will be a populist response, but a sincere one, because when it comes to photographs, people often talk not about images, but about meaning. About what they are fighting for and what they dream about.
I am fighting for our prisoners. And my dream is for all of them to return from Russian captivity. Therefore, my answer is this: I would like to take a photo of the last prisoners who were released. If we're talking about a dream, I have the right to dream about it, and I really want that to happen.
Dmytro Kozatskyi— Ukrainian photographer, soldier, senior soldier, fighter of the Azov Regiment of the National Guard of Ukraine.
Since 2015, the defender of the city. Mariupol in Donetsk region. Since March 1, 2022, together with other brothers, he held the defense at the Azovstal plant. Together with other defenders of Mariupol, he was in Russian captivity and was released on September 21, 2022, during the exchange of 215 Ukrainian defenders.
Dmitry's photo “The Light Will Win” became one of the best in 2022 according to “The Guardian” newspaper and was selected in the list of “100 best photos of 2022” by Time magazine.
Photographer's social networks:Instagramand Facebook
The material was worked on:
Researcher of the topic, author of the text: Vera Labych
Picture editor: Olga Kovalyova
Literary Editor: Julia Foutei
Site Manager: Vladislav Kuhar
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