Jérôme Barbosa, a French independent photographer, immersed himself in Ukraine during wartime for several months. His reports have been showcased twice at the BarrObjectif festival and at the Adrian Bondy Gallery. Besides his photography, he is also active as an illustrator, translator, and director. During an interview with The Ukrainian Week, he shared his insights on Ukrainian life, Western political perspectives on the war, and the importance of art and photography in people’s lives.
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– How did your journey with Ukraine begin? What led you to spend several months there, especially during wartime?
– I truly got to know Ukraine during the Euromaidan in December 2013. The protests in Kyiv were deeply affecting. The unwavering Ukrainian desire to align with the EU and break free from Russian influence struck a chord with me. When Yanukovych enacted dictatorial laws to suppress the demonstrations, Ukrainians responded with ingenious and defiant tactics. At that moment, I felt an immediate surge of sympathy and admiration for all those who took to the streets to protest. I wanted to join them then, but circumstances didn’t allow it. Witnessing the feeble response of European diplomats to the brutal repression by the Kyiv authorities using the Berkut and ‘titushky’ [thugs hired by the government to attack protestors – ed.] filled me with shame. Europeans were politically unprepared for the situation at that time. Unfortunately for Ukraine, we have made little progress in the right direction since then.
I made the decision to travel to Ukraine after the full-scale Russian invasion began on February 24, 2022. I had extensively read about the wars Russia had initiated, particularly the war in Chechnya. The barbaric crimes committed by Russian soldiers were utterly shocking to me. Hence, when I observed the Russian manoeuvres along the Ukrainian border, it struck me as an ominous sign. As soon as the aggression commenced on February 24, I actively took part in all public demonstrations in support of Ukraine.
As reports surfaced about the bombing of the maternity hospital in Mariupol and the discovery of mass graves in Bucha, Irpin, and Hostomel, I reached a pivotal decision. I realised that my role as both a citizen and a photographer could no longer be confined to documenting demonstrations in Paris.
While it may sound idealistic, I saw it as a clear calling. Recollections of the civil war in Spain and the international brigades flooded my mind. Although I couldn’t physically fight, I felt prepared to utilise my camera to vividly capture and share the unfolding events.
Photo: Jérôme Barbosa
The decision to spend several months in a war zone didn’t happen overnight. At the time, I lacked any experience working in armed conflict conditions. If I had sensed during my initial trip that I might become a burden to the people I accompanied, I likely would have promptly returned home. There’s nothing more distasteful than treating war as a form of tourism. However, when I arrived in Zaporizhzhia in April 2022 and witnessed the profound need of the people there to have a direct witness by their side, I knew I had to stay. Producing sensitive, insightful photography demands considerable patience and, above all, time. Out of respect for the trust placed in me by many, I felt compelled to stay. Additionally, my deep affection for Ukraine and its people served as an unwavering source of motivation despite the numerous challenges I faced.
– Living in Kharkiv for several months amidst constant Russian shelling must have been quite an experience. Did it alter you in any way?
– My time in Kharkiv taught me how to grapple with fear. Initially, it paralysed me, but I’ve since learned not to let it overpower me. While that fear still lingers, I’ve become better at managing it. I’ve grown adept at anticipating it. My experience in Kharkiv also served as preparation for life in Kherson, where the proximity to Russian artillery makes defence against sudden attacks nearly impossible. Air raid sirens offer little comfort.
During the day, I became attuned to the behaviour of local residents and quickly adapted to potential dangers. However, at night, the situation transformed completely: the darkness only heightened the uncertainty and dread. Residing in the red zone, along the banks of the Dnipro, meant enduring countless sleepless nights. I have profound respect for those who remained in their homes, facing adversity with courage and resilience.
Photo: Jérôme Barbosa
I often find myself thinking about Maryna Polyakova from Kharkiv and Oksana Pohomiy from Kherson, and I’m always struck by their unwavering determination, courage, and kindness. Whenever I hear “Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the Heroes!” my heart skips a beat, and their faces flood my mind. True heroes are often the most humble and unassuming.
Those who have endured bombings and attacks are forever changed by the experience. It leaves an indelible mark. The knowledge that war crimes and atrocities are still happening on European soil today is utterly unbearable to me.
– Do you maintain contact with the subjects of your photographs?
– Photography often entails extensive travel, especially over extended periods. I make an effort to remember the names of everyone who steps in front of my lens. Even though, regrettably, I don’t always succeed; I strive to adhere to this principle as diligently as possible. However, staying in touch with all these individuals is quite challenging; there are simply so many of them! While I manage to keep in contact with some, it’s admittedly difficult. Some vanish without a trace, while others relocate or are forced to flee. And tragically, some have passed away… Like the soldier from the pseudo-Rammstein band, whom I photographed in Sloviansk in February 2023 during an emergency assistance training session. He introduced himself to me at the end of the session, and two days later, I received news of his death…
– Can photography have an impact on politics? Can it bring about social change?
– I’m not sure if photography can influence politics in today’s world. Frankly, I have my doubts. But when it comes to societal matters, absolutely, it’s undeniable. It certainly influenced mine. It played a pivotal role in my political awakening. However, my experience isn’t typical. The more I share my work with the public and engage in meetings with them, the more I realise people are genuinely interested in what’s happening elsewhere. Empathy is alive and well, and it’s powerful. Nowadays, media, advertisers, and social networks inundate people with information, and they become overwhelmed. Hence, the phenomenon is known as information fatigue.
That’s why I prefer exhibitions and face-to-face interactions over press publications. It’s crucial to communicate directly and to have the opportunity for calm conversations with people. At the BarrObjectif photojournalism festival in Charente in September 2023, I had a profoundly enriching experience. I had to present my work to teenagers, which evoked a lot of emotions. For instance, a girl approached me and told me she was Ukrainian and sought refuge in that Charente. She was astonished that foreigners could speak so passionately about her country, reaffirming that Ukraine is not forgotten and won’t be forgotten in the future.
Recently, I had the chance to meet Emmanuel Guibert, the author of a comic book that deeply impacted me (‘Le photographe’, about Didier Lefèvre). I shared with him the story of Olena Desiushka, a volunteer from Kharkiv. Olena dedicates herself to remarkable work with children and the elderly in shelters across the city, as well as in villages within liberated territories. I had the privilege of attending her workshops on multiple occasions. Moreover, Olena provided invaluable assistance during my journeys to various locations. Without her, much of what I accomplished in Kharkiv and its surroundings wouldn’t have reached the wider audience. Emmanuel Guibert was profoundly touched by her story and offered to assist me in preparing an application for support for her work.
I spared no effort in this endeavour. A few days later, Guibert informed me that the Institute had decided to award Olena an exceptional grant to further her mission. This assistance has the potential to change the lives of numerous individuals. The opportunity to foster chains of solidarity, beginning with a collection of photographs and culminating in tangible improvements, reaffirms my belief in the power of photography.
It’s a journey that demands persistence and intuition, unfolding over the long term.
Photo: Jérôme Barbosa
– You have a lot of black and white photos. Why?
– Because in black and white tones, I see reality more clearly. I owe a debt of gratitude to Tom Stoddart for leading the way in this regard. Colour tends to divert my attention, obscuring the essence of what I’m capturing. I reserve its use for instances where it adds crucial information. Most of the time, it’s not indispensable. The colour of clothes, walls, or artificial light sources doesn’t matter much to me.
My primary interest lies in capturing a person’s expression, emotions, connection with their environment, and especially their hands. We often overlook the significance of human hands! That’s why my focus primarily centres on interactions: I strive to capture them as authentically as possible in such fleeting, ever-changing circumstances.
I’m not interested in photography for the sake of photography. It’s almost a moral imperative to bear witness to humanity in our extreme times. The asceticism of black and white colours is a valuable ally in achieving this goal. But I also do not deny their aesthetic appeal. In fact, I discovered photography and became passionate about it precisely because of black and white photos. Most of the images that moved me were black and white. Most of the photographers I admire primarily work in black and white. It’s a candid, direct, and seemingly simple language that speaks to me vividly.
– Your photo exhibition from Ukraine opened on April 13 in Vernon. Are there plans to showcase it in other galleries across France or elsewhere?
– Not yet. The cultural exchange between Vernon and Ternopil serves as a pilot project. The idea is for the exhibition to journey further. So that the photos within it become more than just mine; they forge their own paths and resonate with audiences, compelling reactions and fostering solidarity. Following my recent return from Ukraine, where I spent time living alongside the soldiers of the 92nd Brigade in Donbas, I find myself knocking on various doors once again. As many doors as possible. It’s far more draining than discussing war and its aftermath because indifference and inaction persist, blind spots remain, promises are left unfulfilled, and obstacles abound. That’s why I’m not confining myself to France. Recently, a German organisation reached out to me. I’ll do everything in my power to collaborate with them. Otherwise, I’ll feel like I’ve betrayed all those individuals I encountered in Ukraine who welcomed and supported me so warmly and sincerely.
– Do you plan to return to Ukraine?
– Yes, a thousand times yes. Right now, I need to focus on the photos I’ve already taken and bring them to fruition. And I also need some rest. The last two years have been almost entirely devoted to Ukraine. In October, I hope to accompany a young documentarian in field conditions; currently, we are seeking funding. We plan to trace the line of life between the Dnipro and Donbas and observe how medical teams are working. Today, a lot of encouraging steps are being taken to support and save lives. I also want to find some people I met before, see how they’re doing, and show them that they haven’t been forgotten.
Photo: Jérôme Barbosa
– President Macron’s assertion that Russia must not emerge victorious in this war raises critical questions about what actions should be taken to ensure that outcome. In your view, what steps are necessary to ensure Russia’s defeat in this war?
– I may not be the most qualified person to devise a clever strategy that would compel Russia to capitulate. It’s not my area of expertise. However, I believe that increasing military support for Ukraine is the crucial first step. Some argue that there’s insufficient funding for such endeavours. But why not utilise the assets and wealth of Russian oligarchs, now in European hands, following confiscation? These resources should be allocated towards European defence, arms production, and bolstering the Ukrainian military. Financial sanctions against Russia must be intensified. Admittedly, I realise that implementing these measures is far easier said than done. Nonetheless, our politicians cannot indefinitely shield themselves behind a barrage of official condemnations of the war crimes and atrocities committed by the Russian military.
If the necessary measures aren’t taken, there will come a time when passivity equals either cowardice or complicity. Such appeasement in the face of Russian power will inevitably yield catastrophic consequences extending far beyond Ukraine’s borders. It’s imperative for Europeans to grasp this reality.
Moreover, if Americans usher Donald Trump back into power in January 2025, the worst may be yet to come. Collective intellectual, economic, and political endeavours to support Ukraine are essential for the West as a whole. Additionally, I hold onto the hope that the Russian people will eventually free themselves from their mafia-like regime, which has oppressed and terrorised them for many years, exploiting them as pawns in brutal, destructive, and utterly senseless wars.
