The war has changed the lives of thousands of Ukrainians, including photojournalist Anatoliy Stepanov, who has been documenting Ukraine's struggle for over 11 years. He was there when it all started in 2014: when the first armed militants appeared in Sloviansk, when wheat bags were used as fortifications in Pisky, when Debaltseve shook from artillery shelling. His shots are not just photographs, but testimonies of war that will become historical documents. In this interview, the new member of the Ukrainian Association of Professional Photographers tells us how to shoot war, about the most iconic images in his work, and why photojournalism is a responsibility that does not allow for mistakes.

— Anatolii, how long have you been taking pictures? How did your love for photography begin?

— I have been taking pictures since I was a child. There were times when everyone took pictures - it was a necessity. We took black and white pictures at school, and then I continued to take pictures even in the army. But I consciously came to photography as a profession later, when I was about 35. Then I bought myself a film Canon and started doing it more seriously. Actually, it changed my lifestyle, because I am an engineer by education.

— Did it become your profession? Did you start making money with photography?

— Yes, this is my profession.

— Where did you start? Was it working in the media or commercial photography?

— At first, it was like looking for a blind kitten, when you try yourself in different directions, but at a fairly conscious age. The decisive moment was when I studied at the school of Viktor Marushchenko. He was an extremely respected and talented Ukrainian photographer, unfortunately, he is no longer with us. His courses gave me a strong impetus.

The events of the Orange Revolution in 2004 also played an important role - it was then that I was finishing my studies with Marushchenko. I realized that I was interested in photojournalism and documentary photography - live, genuine, not staged.

Commander of the “Exim” company of the 10th Mountain Assault Brigade at positions near Krasnohorivka. Summer 2016. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

A Ukrainian soldier fires his assault rifle during a night battle at Avdiivka's Promka. March 31, 2017. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Photography is like space, it has many directions. Some people shoot staged shots, experiment with images. But I don't set any limits - real life in the frame is important to me.

— Could you ever imagine filming a war in your own country?

— No, I would never have thought so. When I first got to the combat zone, it did not look like a full-fledged war. These were its manifestations, attempts to break the country using hybrid methods. For example, the seizure of the Kharkiv Regional State Administration on April 8, 2014 - the situation was quickly brought under control because the rebellion did not have much support in Kharkiv itself. But when I arrived in Donbas, I saw a completely different picture: a real war was already underway, with the seizure of territories and active support from local collaborators.

A woman talks to Interior Ministry special forces near the unblocked Kharkiv Regional State Administration. April 8, 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Pro-Russian supporters build barricades near the Donetsk Regional State Administration. April 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Local residents block the paratroopers at the Pcholkino station in Kramatorsk. April 16, 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Pro-Russian rally near the Donetsk Regional State Administration. April 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

This war is still going on, but now it has unfolded on a much larger scale. If Ukraine had received more support and acted more decisively back in 2014, the situation might have been different.

— So you started documenting the war in 2014?

— Yes, I started traveling to Donbas in 2014. At first, I worked for agencies, and then I started filming the war directly: I lived with the guys at the positions, recorded everything from the inside. I really wanted to show it all.

A Ukrainian soldier stands next to a destroyed locator on the tower of the Donetsk airport weather station. December 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

A Ukrainian soldier sleeps in a trench at a position near Debaltseve. February 2015. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

A Ukrainian soldier greets his comrades on the road near Artemivsk as they head towards Debaltseve. February 2015. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

— Have you noticed any changes in your photos over the years?

— Yes, of course, we all change. Perhaps when I first started, I had a fresher perspective, some subjects seemed particularly strong. In the beginning, you often find something unusual, more interesting angles, and feel more emotion in the frame. But over time, it all becomes boring, it becomes harder to feel the moment so that it really touches you.

However, even after years, I try to find new forms, to show the war in a way that would affect people. Because a photograph is not just a picture, it is an emotion charged with meaning.

Ukrainian artillerymen of the 24th Separate Mechanized Brigade warm themselves by the fire at a position near the village of Hirske, Luhansk region. February 2022. The intensity of the work was such that the artillerymen lived in their own self-propelled guns. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Ukrainian artillerymen fire at the enemy with Grad multiple rocket launchers near the town of Chasiv Yar. April 2023. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Ukrainian paratroopers of the 25th Brigade put the national flag on their APC after the liberation of the city of Lyman, Donetsk region. October 4, 2022. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Residents of Avdiyivka put out their house, destroyed by an artillery shell. July 2015. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

An iron gate cracked by a shell in an abandoned yard in the village of Hranitne near Mariupol. Summer 2015. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

A dead resident of Avdiivka lies in an apartment destroyed by shelling on the 7th floor of a multi-storey building. “Uncle Kolya! He went through the whole war!” says his neighbor. December 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

— How has your documentary photography changed since the beginning of the invasion, when the war became more brutal? Did it affect you as a photographer?

— The war has become larger, more brutal. But there has always been cruelty in war. If you recall 2014, it was just as brutal. For example, the shooting of Ukrainian soldiers near Luhansk, when the so-called “Rusychi” not only killed, but also tortured them, cutting off their ears and committing other atrocities. This was back then. Therefore, it is not entirely correct to say that the war has become more brutal - it has become massive, brutal, and total.

A Ukrainian soldier fires a grenade launcher at the front line of the Butivka mine. November 2018. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

The full-scale invasion involves much more powerful military means that were not available in 2014. But in essence, it is the same war that has been going on since then.

— How do we cover the war now to keep the world interested? How do we keep foreign media taking photos?

— Foreign media work for their audience, and any event has a certain cycle of interest. First, something happens, and it is immediately shocking. Then fatigue sets in, and then people just get used to it. The world has already gotten used to our war. Only when something terrible happens-a missile attack on a peaceful city, mass casualties-does attention to Ukraine increase again. But after a while it is forgotten again.

Dead Russian soldiers, the so-called “Wagnerites,” lie in a field at positions captured from the enemy near the city of Siversk. January 2023. Photo by Anatolii Stepanov

Volunteers and rescuers of the State Emergency Service rescued a little boy from the rubble of a house after a rocket attack on Sloviansk on April 14, 2023. Unfortunately, the boy died in an ambulance. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Residents of Siverskodonetsk hide in the basement of a house during a shelling. February 2022. Photo by Anatolii Stepanov

This is a big challenge for politicians who still understand the significance of this war, for journalists who continue to work here. In 2022, when the full-scale invasion began, a lot of foreign media came to Ukraine. These materials were actively watched, there was a huge interest. And now the same journalists who worked here in 2022 say: “We have materials, but people are watching them less.” This is a natural effect - people get used to everything, even the war.

A soldier of the 24th Brigade with the call sign Leshiy had just come out of battle wounded. The day before he received the news that his son, also a soldier, had gone missing. Popasna, March 8, 2022. Photo by Anatolii Stepanov

And I think that this is exactly the Kremlin's strategy - to exhaust everyone, to make us break, to make the world forget. It's a war of attrition, and it's ongoing. Before the full-scale invasion, there was a feeling that the country existed in parallel worlds: in one, there was a war, and in the other, people continued to live their lives without realizing that there was fighting in their country.

— You have been photographing the war for over 11 years. Aren't you tired? After all, over time, the subjects repeat themselves: arrivals, artillery shelling, battles. Hasn't it become a routine for you?

— You see, for me, the most important thing in photography is people. I like to take pictures of people anywhere, not only at war. But it is in frontline conditions that a person reveals himself in a special way. There, on the front line, there may be former MPs, managers, brokers, contract soldiers who served before the full-scale invasion. But in the trenches, they all become just fighters. That's what is interesting to film - how people change, how the war tests them and reveals their true characters.

Soldiers of the Donbass battalion take up frontline positions in the village of Shyrokyne near Mariupol. July 3, 2015. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Vitaliy (Hans), 22, from Zaporizhzhia. He was stationed near the village of Zholobok, Luhansk region, on January 18, 2020. When the war started, Vitaliy was 16 years old. He repeatedly called the military registration and enlistment office, but was always rejected. He was not accepted to volunteer battalions either. When he turned 18, he signed a five-year contract and is still fighting. He says he joined the army to defend his homeland. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Of course, sometimes you get tired. But there are those who have it much harder. Think about those who are sitting in the trenches under artillery fire, whose lives are being invaded by air raids every day. A photographer is still a guest at war. Even if he stays there for a long time, he always has the opportunity to say: “That's it, I'm going to rest.” But the military cannot afford this - they have to fulfill their task.

So there is no point in complaining. Yes, over the years, fatigue builds up and your eyes get blurry, but you still have to find the strength to keep working.

— Since 2014, you have seen how the army has grown and strengthened, how young soldiers have become commanders, how they have changed. Society has been changing along with them. Can you share your thoughts on this? Perhaps there were specific people whose fates you followed?

— You have said a very correct thing. Yes, I watched people change, officers grow into real leaders. I knew guys who joined the army when they were very young, received ranks, were promoted to higher positions, and now they have died for Ukraine.

Dmytro, 21, from Snizhne, Donetsk region. Dmytro has been at the front for two and a half years. When he learned that his country was under attack by a foreign power, he joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine. Born in an independent Ukraine, Dmytro refuses to live under a foreign flag. He hopes that soon the flag of his country will fly over the liberated Donbas. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

I will never forget the words of an officer I filmed in the Independent project. He came from a military family, and it was a real honor for him to become an officer. First he was a platoon lieutenant commander, then he became a company commander, and in 2022 he died in Popasna. He gave his life for Ukraine. I also know guys who have come a long way, grown to battalion commanders, and also died. There are also those who are already studying at the military academy. This is the real backbone of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. I believe that this is the color of the nation, the color of the Ukrainian army. And all this was happening right in front of my eyes. It's a great thing, a great story that is still going on.

— You mentioned your project The Independent, tell us about it. How did you come up with the idea, how long have you been working on it, and who are its protagonists?

— I traveled a lot to the positions, saw a lot of young people in the army. And somehow the question arose by itself: why are they here? They were born after 1991, after Ukraine gained its independence. What motivates them to fight? That's how the idea to film these people was born. I didn't set myself any strict deadlines-it was more of a way of life than a separate project. I just went to this war, which few people in Ukraine were interested in at the time, and tried to show it somehow.

Volodymyr (Sheva), 21, from Dnipropetrovs'k region. He is stationed near the village of Vodiane near Mariupol, June 11, 2018. Volodymyr has been on the front line for three years. He joined the army at the age of 18 and celebrated his 19th birthday at a military training center. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Stas, 27 years old. On May 21, 2019, on the front line near the city of Avdiivka, Donetsk region. He has been fighting intermittently since 2014. At first, he fought in volunteer battalions, and after officer training he was promoted to junior lieutenant. At the beginning of the war, he lost his best friend. He says he will end the war either in victory or death. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

A few years later, I realized that I was doing the right thing. I remember accidentally hearing the words of Nikita Mikhalkov, a famous Kremlin director. In his video, which is available on YouTube, he said a phrase that shocked me: “Two generations have already grown up in Ukraine who will never go over to Russia. I don't know what is needed for this - maybe war and blood...”.

Then I realized that I had hit the nail on the head. I filmed exactly those young people who, according to the Kremlin's logic, should not exist. My heroes are defenders from all regions: from the west, from the east, from the center of Ukraine. They were born in an independent country, they did not know the USSR. And that is why for them Ukraine is not just a place of residence, but their country, for which they are ready to give their lives. This is the generation that is defending Ukraine.

Vasyl, 20, from Ivano-Frankivsk region. He holds the Peace Light of Bethlehem, which was brought to the front line by volunteers. He was stationed near Popasna, Luhansk region, on December 28, 2017. Vasyl returned to the front after being wounded in the neck by an 8-millimeter shrapnel from an AAA. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

— What were these photographs like? Were they portraits or reportage photography?

— I just saw a person, and it seemed to me that it was worth taking pictures of. It could be a photo of a soldier in a trench, a guy from Lviv, or anyone else. There was no system or clear idea-everything was formed gradually, organically. Over time, everything crystallized into the final project. But the most important thing was not even the photos, but the words of the characters themselves. They explained why they were here and what they were fighting for.

Among them was a girl who fought on the front line in the trenches and sang at the same time. It's not just an image, it's real life.

Iryna, 24, from Lviv. On the front line near the village of Luhanske, Donetsk region, on June 3, 2020. Iryna is a philologist by education. This was her third combat duty. She joined the army because she decided that she lacked life experience. She believes she has the strength to defend her homeland. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

— Have you exhibited this series of photographs anywhere?

— Yes, the exhibition was presented in Chicago. Now it lives its own life, it has gone out into the world.

— What projects are you working on now? Do you continue to document the war?

— I have a project, and it is the war against Ukraine. I try to shoot as much as possible, to record events in different places. Sometimes it's work for agencies, sometimes I just document life during the war. Because this is what needs to be filmed, what needs to be preserved.

A soldier of the 92nd Separate Mechanized Brigade with the call sign Psyche during night duty at a position in the Avdiivka industrial zone. Summer 2019. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

For a photographer at the front, the most important thing is to understand what he or she is documenting. After all, over time, these photos will cease to be just event or news photos - they will become a historical document. So no matter what I shoot, I always think that time will make these shots important. Now I periodically go to the front. I just returned a week ago, and I was with journalists in Kharkiv, Donetsk region, and Pokrovsk. It was just a journalistic job, but I know that over time these photos will become documents of the war.

A soldier of the 1st Battalion of the 54th Brigade sits in a trench while on duty at the positions recaptured from the enemy in the “Magic Forest” near the village of Luhanske in Svitlodarsk, Donetsk region. December 2016. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Soldiers of the 54th Separate Mechanized Brigade fight at night in the “Magic Forest” near the village of Luhanske in Svitlodarsk, Donetsk region. December 2016. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

— What moments from the war do you particularly remember? Tell us about the events and people who made the biggest impression on you?

— If we talk about 2014, it was a time of frankness and pain for people who loved Ukraine. The so-called “Russian Spring” and the seizure of Crimea began. I was not there, for me it all started with Kharkiv, Donbas, and then Odesa. April 2014 in Donbas was a complete shock. You wake up every day, and each event overlaps and overshadows the previous one, making you think: how can this be, this is my country!

Donetsk residents cheer during Pushilin's speech at a pro-Russian rally on Lenin Square in Donetsk. April 27, 2014. Photo by Anatoly Stepanov

I remember when I first saw people with weapons from another country in Sloviansk. They came and started to establish their own order, thinking that Ukrainians would just obey, that we could be intimidated. But Ukraine began to resist.

Pro-Russian militants during the seizure of a police station in Sloviansk. April 12, 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

There were moments that stood out in my mind. For example, the blocking of Ukrainian paratroopers in Kramatorsk: the convoy entered a crossing and was blocked by “local activists”, including FSB and GRU agents. People stood with posters saying “No to war,” but at the same time there was a whole network of Russian special services trying to stir up the situation. I even talked to Girkin's militants on April 13-14 in Sloviansk, when they were about to repel attacks by the Ukrainian National Guard.

Pro-Russian residents of Odesa free pro-Russian militants who took part in the riots in the center of Odesa from the police station. May 4, 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Pro-Russian demonstrations were taking place in Donetsk itself. I was staying in a hotel at the time, and every weekend the free rooms were filled with “tourists” from Russia. Pushilin spoke at the rallies, under the monument to Lenin in the central square.

And then a full-fledged war broke out. The Ukrainian border guards were pushed out of Luhansk, and Russian equipment crossed the border. Then massive shelling and seizure of territories began.

Local residents watch Ukrainian paratroopers on their vehicles drive through the streets of the newly liberated Vuhlehirsk, Donetsk region. August 2014. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

But I remember one moment in particular. November 23, 2014. Debaltseve. I had no experience of working as a journalist in hot spots, and I was just walking around the city, which was being shelled by artillery. It was dangerous, but I didn't realize the full extent of the threat at the time.

I was hit by an artillery salvo in one of the districts. At that moment I thought: “This is the end”. But I was lucky - I got out of there alive and unharmed. Later I even wrote an essay about it. And then the war became even more brutal. Donetsk airport, Pisky - it was already winter 2015. Then the exit from Debaltseve. I worked more in the area of Avdiivka and Pisky.

Бійці батальйону «Кривбас» радіють зустрічі біля міста Артемівськ Донецької області після виходу з оточення під Дебальцевим. Лютий 2015. Фото Анатолія Степанова

— What did the guys at the front talk about during the ATO/JFO? Did they ever say the word “victory”? Did they believe that this war would ever end? Were there talks about a full-scale invasion?

— Many of the guys I knew back then were killed. For example, Vasya Melnyk. We spent the night at the position, and in the morning he came to me and said: “Listen, take a video of me.” He was going to take up his position and wanted to recite his poem. These were honest, patriotic lines - absolutely pure and sincere. After a while, he was killed by a sniper.

This war lasted for years. Fatigue was accumulating, but at some point it became clear that everything was heading for a big war. I told everyone that it would happen. I did not know when, but I realized that it was inevitable. Thousands of people went through the ATO/JFO: some joined the army, some resigned, it was a permanent process. But after a certain point, it was already obvious that the war would not end just like that. I saw how Russia was training in Syria, how they were practicing bombing cities. And although I realized that this could happen here, my brain refused to believe it. But now we see what is happening. They were practicing strikes on civilians there so that they could use it here in Ukraine. A lot of people have passed through my life over the years. It's hard to single out one person.

— Do you have photos that are particularly important to you? Not necessarily the best technically, but with a special story, important people or circumstances. What photos would you single out?

— There are a lot of such photos. But if you go to my Facebook page, the main one is the one that is very symbolic for me.

Soldiers of the 93rd Separate Mechanized Brigade carry a shell tape to an infantry fighting vehicle (IFV) 2 in the village of Pisky near the Donetsk airport. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

In this photo, soldiers of the 93rd Brigade carry a ribbon from a BMP-2 with ammunition. It was in Pisky in December 2014. Heavy fighting was already going on there, and this moment took place in the hangar of the Research Institute of Agriculture.

This institute was engaged in breeding and growing different varieties of wheat. In August or September, I first visited the soldiers in Pisky and saw a ribbon of ammunition just lying among a pile of wheat.

The fighting was so intense that no one paid attention to the wheat anymore. Sacks of grain were used as fortifications, as sandbags to set up firing points. I saw how green wheat started sprouting in those bags - right in the middle of the war, under fire. When I came back in December, the same tape with ammunition was no longer there, and soldiers were carrying it on their shoulders. They were carrying it to load it into a car. For me, this is a very powerful symbol. We are all connected by the war. Just as this ribbon of ammunition passes from one soldier to another, so the war stretches across generations. It is heavy, it puts pressure on the shoulders. But it is carried.

Back in 2014, the war was fought by individual military units. Now, in 2025, the whole country is carrying it. There are many more photos that are meaningful to me. I spent a lot of time in the industrial zone, at the Butovka mine, with the soldiers. Especially at night, at their positions. But if we talk about the most important photo that comes to mind first, it is the ribbon that was lying in the wheat and then ended up on the soldiers' shoulders.

— You said earlier that you wrote essays. Have you thought about writing a book about your activities over the years?

— It's a scary thought when you realize how much has passed, how many years of war are behind us. Writing about it is really scary. Although I record some things for myself, sometimes I write something. But you know, this thought is somewhere deep in my subconscious. It sometimes appears, but for now I'm probably not mentally and physically ready to write a book. Now I write only when I have a feeling that I need to. It's more of a reflection than something big and serious.

A soldier of the 92nd Separate Mechanized Brigade at a position in Avdiivka's Promka. Summer 2019. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

Marine Roman Barvinok, call sign Skrypal, plays the violin in a shelter at a position near Toretsk. Winter 2020. Roman was killed in the summer of 2022 during the battle for the village of Pisky. Photo by Anatolii Stepanov

— What advice could you give to photojournalists and photojournalists? How do you shoot war properly?

— In fact, there is no single advice on how to photograph war. It is a reflection of the photographer's personality, life experience, worldview, and level of awareness of reality. Everything that a person has read, seen, experienced - all of this is reflected in his or her photographs in one way or another. A photograph is a slice of the person who takes it. That's why everyone takes pictures of the war in their own way. But there is one main rule: you need to keep a cool head. Because you can simply not shoot anything and die.

I always remember Sergei Nikolaev, a wonderful photojournalist. He went to the war in the Sands and died. So if you're just starting out, go with an experienced person, take lessons from those who have already been there. First of all, assess the risks. You cannot work with a hot head. Yes, there are cases when someone is lucky: they get to the right place, shoot unique shots. But these are exceptions. War is not a game. It is a reality in which two strong armies are fighting. And a photographer is always a civilian, even if he is on the front line. He can die at any moment. I'm not saying that you shouldn't do it. Photographers have to document the war, but they have to do it deliberately.

A paratrooper of the 25th Brigade observes the enemy at the positions in the village of Kamyanka near Donetsk. January 2022. Photo by Anatoliy Stepanov

A target made from Putin's portrait at Ukrainian positions in the village of Zolote, Luhansk region. January 2022. Photo by Anatolii Stepanov.

I have been to frontline positions many times with journalists, witnessing shells and mines landing nearby, seeing the fallen—both ours and Russian. Now I realize how much we underestimated the danger. At the beginning of 2022, when the full-scale invasion began, we simply rushed forward, not fully grasping that everything could end at any moment. A soldier on the front line has his tasks. His main goal is to follow orders and defend his position. A photographer has a different role: to capture the war so the world can see it. But it’s crucial to remember—everything you photograph is a historical document. You must understand the responsibility of that moment.

Anatolii Stepanov is a Ukrainian photographer, born and raised in Kyiv, with a background in engineering. In 2004, he graduated from Viktor Marushchenko’s School of Photography and has since worked as a professional photojournalist for various Ukrainian media outlets and international agencies. His work has been published in National Geographic, Spiegel, Stern, Time, and many other international publications, and he has participated in numerous international photo exhibitions.

In November 2017, he gave a lecture on his frontline work during the presentation of the photo book RAW at the Ukrainian Museum in New York. His project Independent, dedicated to Ukrainian youth fighting for their country, is featured in an online exhibition at the Ukrainian National Museum in Chicago.Anatolii Stepanov has been documenting Russian aggression against Ukraine since its early days in 2014 and continues to do so in collaboration with Agence France-Presse. Photographer’s social media: Instagram, Facebook.  

We worked on the material:
Researcher and author of the text: Vira Labych
Photo editor: Olha Kovaliova
Literary editor: Yuliia Futei
Website manager: Vladyslav Kukhar