Andrii Kasianchuk’s project is a continuation of his father’s practice of keeping a school observation diary between 1989 and 1993, shortly after the Chornobyl nuclear power plant disaster. Andrii Kasianchuk chronicles a contemporary catastrophe—the ecocide resulting from Russia’s full-scale war against Ukraine. Using digital media, he collects evidence of the war's impact on nature, from fires and polluted rivers to the disappearance of species and landscape transformation. The digital environment becomes a field of modern observation, where data, images, and network messages acquire the status of documents of the time.
“The idea to create a project in the format of a diary was inspired by my father’s notebook, in which he recorded his nature observations during his school years”
At the beginning of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, I went to the village in the Kyiv region where I was born. I read a lot of news about the war, and I started coming across photographs documenting dead dolphins on the seashore. At some point, there were so many that it seemed to me as if the Russians had a personal vendetta against these animals. I started saving materials related to the war's impact on our country's ecology, and I accumulated a lot of them.
The idea to create a project in the format of a diary was inspired by my father’s notebook, in which he observed nature during his school years. From 1989 to 1993, shortly after the Chornobyl disaster, he recorded the smallest changes in the flora and fauna of his area. This diary became an archive of attentive coexistence between humans and the environment. He carried out his observations in the same village where I found myself at the beginning of the full‑scale Russian‑Ukrainian war.
I made the first entries for my diary in March 2022. They concerned the pollution of the Black and Azov Seas with petroleum products, the death of a huge number of fish, birds, and other fauna. At first, I wrote notes unsystematically — recording my own thoughts or documenting events that deeply impressed me or had a significant impact on the ecological situation in Ukraine. Later, I began searching for scientific articles on studies of the war’s impact on the environment. It turned out that, unfortunately, the topic is still very little studied.
Between my father’s notes and my own I see many parallels. He recorded the consequences of the Chornobyl nuclear disaster, while we live in a time of nuclear threat. After the Chornobyl accident, an exclusion zone appeared, and today, as a result of hostilities, mined territories, and the use of phosphorus bombs, we have scorched lands unfit for life. I thought a lot about this while making notes for the diary.
The title of my project is “Nature ‘300’.” First, it is a code that is understood today both by the military and civilians. Second, a soldier may also have the call sign Nature. I decided to combine these two terms so that they correspond to our time both literally and figuratively.
“I wanted to draw time parallels, to compare what my father described many years ago with what I observed on that day.”
I found my father’s diary long before the start of Russia’s full‑scale invasion. As a child, I often visited the village. My father is a biologist by profession, so we always had a lot of specialized natural science literature at home. On the bookshelf that covers the entire wall of the room, among books and magazines, I discovered my father’s notebook — “Diary of Observations in Nature.” I immediately realized that this was a very powerful story that needed to be shown to others.
I scanned all the pages of my father’s diary. I published them on my Instagram on the same dates as the entries in the notebook. I wanted to draw time parallels, to compare what my father described many years ago with what I observed on that day. Dad described the weather, noted when different species of migratory birds returned home. Personally, I found it very interesting to read his observations and look at the sketches in the diary. Several pages from the “Diary of Observations in Nature” were published by the independent Ukrainian online art platform By text.
My father grew up in the village, very close to nature, and his diary contains many fascinating and touching entries. For example, how he and the boys went to herd cows and on the way saw a hare manage to escape from a dog. The hare ran very close to them and disappeared into the field. Dad also describes his observations of a roe deer in the forest. He recalls finding an owl’s hollow, peeking inside, but seeing only feathers — most likely the owl had been eaten by a marten.
“I decided to use black pages for the diary.”
My father kept his notes in a regular squared notebook. I decided to use black pages for my diary to visually distinguish it from his and to emphasize the fragility of life during the war.
I wanted to print the photographs for the diary using an old method with ammonium dichromate. This is how Ukrainian photographer Valerii Veduta prints his works. However, I realized that it is simply an analog technique that does not reinforce the idea or concept of my project. I tried printing several images I had found online for the project — they came out blurry and resembled the works of abstractionists. What I needed was detail. So I finally abandoned this idea and printed screenshots from videos, drone shots, or phone photos on a regular printer.
At the same time, I wanted to preserve the format and connection with my father’s “Diary of Observations in Nature.” Dad made many hand‑drawn sketches, and I also added drawings of plants, river networks, or mines found in the Kyiv region to my notes. In parallel, I reviewed already published diaries by different authors to get acquainted with this new for me form of combining images and text. Eventually, I settled on a concise aesthetic close to me — I did not paste anything into the notebook, did not tear or crumple pages, did not make bulky inserts, but focused on texts, sketches, and photographs printed on a regular printer.
In addition to images found online, my diary also includes my own photographs taken during the full‑scale Russian‑Ukrainian war. I decided to highlight them in color, unlike the other monochrome shots. I recall photographing my father in March as he looked up at the sky. At that time, many planes and missiles were flying over our village. Just twenty meters from our house, two missiles passed, which was a shock for everyone. Later, I returned to Kyiv, where strikes on critical infrastructure began. I photographed the pipes of a thermal power station visible far on the horizon and the smoke above them. I also captured trenches that many photographers documented in Kyoto Park in Kyiv. Today this is history too, since the trenches have been filled in and the dugouts dismantled. In winter, I photographed generators, as they are also a factor affecting the atmosphere and air pollution.
Several of my photographs are also black‑and‑white. I originally shot these images in monochrome, so there was no point in extracting color from them. For example, I photographed tree crowns in the evening when snow was falling in the forest. I inverted the colors, and the branches became white while the snow turned black, like ash.
“The consequences of the war in Ukraine will ultimately affect nature all over the world.”
The project “Nature ‘300’” is quite a personal story for me. My father is a teacher of chemistry and biology, so at school I knew this subject better than my classmates. I enjoyed walking with my father around the village, observing animals and birds. The interaction between humans and nature runs like a red thread through my whole life. In my photographs I also often emphasize the environment, looking for elements connected with nature.
Мені важливо розповісти про екологічні проблеми в Україні. Я розумію, що війна — перш за все величезна трагедія для людей. Проте наслідки впливу війни на природу будуть тривалими, і мені, як людині та митцю, важливо розповісти про цю тему. Наслідки війни в Україні зрештою стосуватимуться природи в усьому світі.
While searching for information about the impact of war on nature, I came across a very interesting book of letters and newspaper clippings from the time of the First World War, collected by a British soldier. Practically every one of these letters contains references to how humans interacted with nature. I was struck by the moment when the soldier described birds nesting inside the barrels of cannons. There were many descriptions that remain relevant even today — oil spills and their impact on marine flora and fauna, or how the earth near dugouts comes back to life in spring. One soldier wrote that the dead black soil with white patches of snow in spring once again grew grass and flowers, resembling a garden. These descriptions were very poetic. I copied one of these letters into my diary to show the cyclical nature of life and war.
This material was created with the support of the British Council’s “Creative Economy Grants” program
Andrii Kasianchuk is a Ukrainian photographer who lives and works in Kyiv. He has been engaged in photography since childhood; a decisive stage in shaping his practice was the course in artistic and conceptual photography with Ihor Chekachkov (2021), after which he focused on working with context, time, and memory. In his series he combines documentary and poetic qualities, considering photography as a tool for observation and reflection.
Education: MYPH School of Conceptual & Art Photography (2025), Ihor Chekachkov Academy of Photography (2021), Kyiv National University of Construction and Architecture, Master’s degree (2019). Published in SITUATIFE.COM, ZOOTMAGAZINE, LFMAGAZINE, FISHEYE MAGAZINE. Participant in exhibition projects in Ukraine and Europe, including *Rebirth. Tales of Ukrainian Renaissance* (Paris, 2025), solo exhibition *12* (Kyiv, 2024), as well as group exhibitions *DIA KINETS* (2024–2025) and *Life goes on* (2022–2023). The author’s works are represented in the private collection of the Korsaks’ Museum of Contemporary Ukrainian Art.
Worked on the material:
Researcher and author: Katia Moskaliuk
Photo editor: Olga Kovalova
Literary editor: Yuliia Futei
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