Grant

“I Hope Your Family is Safe” is a work about my loved ones living in Ukraine during the war. The project title comes from a phrase I often hear from foreigners: “I hope your family is safe”, and every time I struggle with how to respond. I ask myself, what is safety in a country at war? What makes my family stay in Ukraine despite constant Russian rocket attacks? What is my Ukraine today? This project is my search for a visual answer. I was born and raised in Ukraine and left my country nine years ago — first for Poland, and later for Germany. Since then, I have never felt such a strong urge to return home as I do today. The future is fragile and uncertain, so documenting my Ukraine today — in all its tragedy, beauty and complexity — is necessary. My foreign audience cannot fully grasp what life is like in my homeland today and often struggles to relate to the people living there. One reason for this disconnect is that most of the images we see from Ukraine depict destruction, death, soldiers on the frontline, and the aftermath of rocket attacks. While these are undeniably important photographs — essential for informing the world about Russian war crimes — Ukraine cannot be reduced to just that. Life here is far more complex than one who hasn’t experienced it can imagine. There is love, there is joy, and there is beauty that coexists with enormous pain and tragedy. A window damaged by a rocket attack, trenches where my dad underwent military training, a wedding suit and mourning scarves hanging side by side at the market. I hear that our neighbour’s brother was killed on the frontline, and my uncle has been mobilized. I see a black-and-white photograph of my childhood friend in the alley of fallen defenders, accompanied by a remembrance candle. Here, death is at every corner, and yet, so is life. A full public beach on a Sunday afternoon, a friend’s newborn baby, my grandma’s garden. In my country filled with trauma and torn by the war, I feel as alive as anywhere else. I am unsafe because of rockets flying over my head. I am safe because it’s my home. As attention to Ukraine has waned significantly — leaving many unsure if the war is still ongoing — it’s crucial to keep the conversation alive. My project challenges the mainstream coverage of contemporary Ukraine with a series of images that speak on love, hope and resilience. Through it, I aim to contribute a piece to the mosaic of Ukrainian identity — my vision of Ukraine, one that reflects my people’s bravery, vulnerability, defiance, and desire for freedom. With a tender and intimate approach, I hope to evoke empathy that is not rooted in pity, but in the shared human experiences. I see this project as a bridge between “us” and “them”. My unique perspective, being both Ukrainian and living in Germany, along with the access I have, empowers me to do that.

 Armenia, situated between Europe and Asia, is facing a decisive phase in its history: long dependent on Russia as a protective power, the loss of Nagorno-Karabakh has made clear that this support cannot be relied upon. Russia’s turning away and the fear of another war with Azerbaijan deprives Armenia of any hope of a secure future. „It’s my wound because it’s pain for me“ is a photographic exploration of a society whose identity is shaped by the trauma of the past, the fear of war and the feeling of being alone. Armenia’s geopolitical position between Azerbaijan, Russia and Turkey plays a central role in this. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, there has been a conflict with Azerbaijan over the Nagorno-Karabakh region, which is located on Azerbaijani territory but was inhabited by a majority of Armenians. In September 2023, Azerbaijan gained military control over the entire region, causing a large part of the population to flee. The fear of a further escalation of the conflict with the military enforcement of a corridor from Azerbaijan to its exclave of Nakhichevan is huge. Azerbaijan can count on powerful support from Turkey, while Moscow in turn relies on Turkey as a strategic partner. Russia refuses to stand by Armenia, but will not allow it to withdraw its influence and seek new allies in the West. Armenia is almost completely surrounded by enemies and faces enormous challenges. With my work, I aim to raise awareness of the complex and often overlooked situation in Armenia. The goal is to highlight the profound impact of geopolitical tensions and military conflicts on the civilian population in a region shaped by political interests and power struggles. Through documentary photography, I seek to give visibility to the voices and experiences of people who are frequently underrepresented in global discourse.

Bei der Geburtstagsfeier meiner Mutter in Tiraspol tanzt mein Vater glücklich mit ihr im Arm. In Deutschland habe ich meine Eltern noch nie tanzen gesehen.

Transnistrien, oft nur als Überbleibsel der Sowjetunion gesehen, ist für meine Familie und mich mehr als nur ein Relikt. Seit meiner Kindheit besuche ich diesen Ort regelmäßig, da wir unsere Urlaube fast immer dort verbracht haben. Diese Erfahrungen prägen meine Verbindung zu der Region.
Meine Eltern verließen im Jahr 2000 Chișinău in Moldawien und emigrierten nach Deutschland, als ich noch klein war. Sie fühlen sich weder moldawisch noch deutsch, sondern russisch, und sehen Transnistrien als eine Art Heimat. Das Haus meiner Großeltern und das Leben meiner Großmutter sind zentrale Symbole dieser Bindung. Nach ihrer Pensionierung planen sie, in Transnistrien zu leben.
Der Ukrainekrieg hat die Region wieder in den Fokus gerückt. Als von Russland unterstützter de facto Staat zeigt Transnistrien Parallelen zu russisch kontrollierten Gebieten in der Ukraine. Diese Realität verstärkt meine kritische Haltung gegenüber der Politik des Ortes, auch wenn meine Familie und ich selbst ihm weiterhin emotional verbunden sind.

Migration spielt in der Region eine zentrale Rolle. Viele Menschen suchen ihr Glück im Westen oder in Russland. Eine klare Spaltung ist spürbar: Während Russland-Sympathisanten eher nach Russland ziehen, orientieren sich die russlandkritischen und progressiven Menschen Richtung Europa. In meinen Fotografien versuche ich, das Vertraute und Alltägliche dieses Ortes einzufangen – eine politisch belastete, aber tief verwurzelte Heimat.

In meinem Projekt versuche ich, die komplexe Beziehung zu Heimat und Identität in dieser Region darzustellen. Transnistrien ist nicht nur ein Relikt der Vergangenheit, sondern ein Ort, an dem Geschichte und Gegenwart aufeinanderprallen. Heimat wird hier von Melancholie und Nostalgie geprägt, aber auch von politischen und sozialen Spannungen. Die Zerrissenheit ist allgegenwärtig.

Ins deutsche übersetzt beutetet светлая память – Helle Erinnerung. Der Ausdruck wird verwendet, wenn eine geliebte Person verstirbt.
All die schönen Erinnerungen die eine verstorbene Person hinterlässt stecken in dieser Beileidsbekundung

Europe wants to take tougher action against people smuggling. But instead of targeting organized smugglers, it’s targeting the migrants themselves. Thousands are in prison in Europe. As a deterrent – and largely unjustly.
Aliu tried to flee Libya several times. Three times the boat capsized. On the fourth attempt a smuggler put a gun to his head: „Drive, or we’ll kill you.“ So Aliu drives, although he has never steered a boat before. When the Italian coast guard discovers the boat hours later, Aliu is relieved. But instead of being sent to a reception center, he is taken to prison. He spent over six years behind bars.
When a boat arrives at the EU’s external borders, the authorities follow a well-practiced routine: Who steered the boat? Who operated the compass? Several people are arrested on suspicion of smuggling.
Asylum seekers are charged on the basis of hasty testimony and with little or no legal representation.
They are held in pre-trial detention, experience violence during the interrogations and residence permits are promised for confessions. Court proceedings do not meet legal standards and those sentenced face years of imprisonment.
The ongoing criminalization leads back to the so-called “Facilitators Package”, a Directive and Framework Decision issued by the European Union in 2002. At the moment this legislation is reviewed and will most probably be strengthened with even higher sentences as a consequence to the ongoing rightward shift in European politics.

In a multi-layered documentary photo book we deal with the criminalisation of Boat Drivers in Italy and Greece. We believe that a book is the perfect medium for this complex topic as it enables us to merge together different visual and text layers. Furthermore a book provides a deep insight into personal experiences of our protagonists and the context of criminalization in Europe. Portraits, documents,
sketches and texts create a detailed document of the perspectives of the criminalized people themselves. Photographs of courtrooms, prisons and places of arrest visualize the European landscape of repression.
A political analysis of the structural European “war on smuggle” will be included in texts and found footage. We have been in contact with several protagonists, lawyers, judges and activists for months. Through the journalism collective “Selbstlautkollektiv” we can fall back on a network of journalists in both countries.
We already got funding to cover the cost of the research in Italy. As the criminalization of Boat Drivers is anchored in European legislation, it is required to simultaneously cover the situation in Italy and Greece.
A further grant is needed to cover the ongoing costs of the Greek part of the project, for joint research trips, personal fees and fees connected to the book production.

Zeitvertreib und zack zack zack – ist sie vertrieben. Wartet sie auf uns, hält sich die Augen zu und zählt laut bis zehn? Komm mit, lauf weg. Du bist schneller als ich bin stärker als wir. Verbunden durch die Grenzen des Geschicks, bis an den Rand der Regeln. Ruhe Puls Revanche. Zwischen Strategie und Sinnlosem, unter Unschuld und über Eifer passiert es. Hier, dort, von null bis neunundneunzig. Beiseite leben? Gilt nicht. Lass uns etwas bauen, das unter uns zusammenstürzt. Nächste Runde. Kann alles, muss nichts. Das ist der grundlegende Nenner, den alle Menschen gemein haben: Wir spielen. Spiel ist ein elementarer Bestandteil dessen, was uns als Menschen ausmacht und wird oft als kindischer Zeitvertreib missverstanden, der unwichtig erscheint. Doch das Gegenteil ist der Fall. So einfach und beiläufig „Spiel“ auf den ersten Blick erscheint, so komplex und bedeutsam ist es auf den Zweiten. Es ist ein elementarer Bestandteil dessen, was uns als Menschen ausmacht und wirkt als soziales Bindemittel in der Gemeinschaft. Der Spieltrieb ist Ausdruck unserer menschlichen Natur und unseres Bedürfnisses, miteinander in Kontakt zu treten. In meinem Fotoprojekt bewege ich mich im Spannungsfeld zwischen dokumentarischer und inszenierter Fotografie. Jedes Motiv erfordert eine individuelle Herangehensweise: Einige Bilder sind spontane, gefundene Szenen, die das Authentische und den ungestörten Moment einfangen; andere sind bewusst inszeniert, um eine abstrahierende Wirkung zu erzielen und die Betrachtenden zur eigenen Interpretation anzuregen. Diese Kombination erlaubt es mir, das Thema „Spieltrieb“ in seiner Vielschichtigkeit und Komplexität darzustellen. Einerseits zeige ich das Unverfälschte und Zufällige, andererseits das Symbolhafte und Konzeptuelle – ein Spannungsfeld, in dem Realität und Symbolik zusammenwirken, um die Bedeutung des Spiels und seine Wirkung auf unser Menschsein sichtbar zu machen. Am Ende sollen die Betrachtenden einer Arbeit gegenüberstehen, die zugleich als Lichtblick in die Zukunft und als Ausdruck des Unbehagens gegenüber dieser gedacht ist. In einer Zeit, die von schockierenden Bildern und Krisen dominiert wird, möchte ich ein Werk schaffen, das das Gute und Verbindende im Menschen hervorhebt. Der Spieltrieb fördert nicht nur soziale Bindungen und Resilienz, sondern öffnet uns auch den Zugang zu Kreativität und Selbstentfaltung. Indem wir das Spiel als essentiellen Teil unseres Menschseins anerkennen, können wir, selbst inmitten der Unsicherheiten unserer Zeit, Räume für Hoffnung und Zusammenhalt schaffen.

Meine erste Begegnung mit dem Meer geht auf meine Kindheit zurück, als ich in der Dunkelkammer meiner Mutter stand und die frisch entwickelten, aufgehängten Bilder betrachtete. Es waren Fotos von Hochzeiten und Porträts von Männern und Frauen, die am Meer lebten. Sie standen mit dem Rücken zum Meer und posierten für die Kamera, als ob das Meer als Zeuge über sie wachte und ihnen seine Würde und seinen Glanz verlieh, während es von einer lebendigen und dynamischen Vergangenheit erzählte.

Diese Verbindung erinnerte mich an meine Beziehung zu meiner Mutter, die im Hintergrund das Wachstum ihrer Kinder begleitete und ihre Jugend für sie opferte. Ihr Fotostudio, das einst voller Hochzeitsbilder war, ist nun verwaist und von Stagnation und Verfall geprägt. Dieser Rückgang, ähnlich dem Rückzug des Meeres von seinen Menschen, hat Sehnsucht nach der Vergangenheit, Enttäuschung und Sorge um eine ungewisse Zukunft ausgelöst. Die Distanz bietet jedoch Raum für Reflexion und lädt dazu ein, die verborgenen Schichten der Gefühle zu erkunden und die Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und Zukunft in einem neuen Licht zu betrachten.
Was für eine Zukunft erwartet die Kinder, wenn die Mutter fehlt…

Between the Sirens explores the lives of young Ukrainians navigating the harsh realities of a country torn by war. Amid the backdrop of war, they attempt to lead normal lives, but their routines are frequently interrupted by air raid sirens and missile threats. This project offers a poignant, up-to-date portrayal of a generation grappling with the fragility of both life and home.
The teenage and young adult years are inherently formative—marked by hopes, uncertainties, and personal growth. For young Ukrainians, these formative experiences have been profoundly shaken since February 24, 2022, when war erupted, shattering the already few constants in a young persons‘ life. This project seeks to understand how they are adapting and forging their paths under these extraordinary circumstances.
Young Ukrainians are not just symbols of resilience — they embody the future of their nation. They will ultimately carry the weight of rebuilding Ukraine when the war ends. But what kind of country will they rebuild? Between the Sirens delves into this question, contemplating the future of a nation shaped by a generation deeply scarred by conflict.

Der Begriff Ortskontrollfahrt aus dem ostdeutschen Sprachgebrauch bezeichnet eine Streiffahrt durch Dörfer, während der meist junge Erwachsene ins Blaue fahren, um zu sehen was in ihren Orten vor sich geht. Im Rahmen meiner Arbeit „Ortskontrollfahrt“ reise ich mit einem Fahrrad durch das sächsische Hinterland, um mich fernab der Großstadtperspektive mit den aktuellen Herausforderungen der deutschen Demokratie in Ostdeutschland auseinanderzusetzen.

Erstmals seit dem Sturz des NS-Regiems bedrohen rechtsextreme Akteure auf parlamentarischem Wege die deutsche Demokratie. In Thüringen sogar als stärkste Kraft. Was führt zu einem fruchtbaren Boden für Rechtsextreme? Wie geht es den Menschen in Ostdeutschand? Und was formte diese gespaltene Gesellschaft zu der, welche sie heute ist? Mit meinem fotografischen Essay möchte ich zuhören, verstehen und Zusammenhänge herstellen, die einen kritischen Einblick in das sich wandelnde Demokratieerleben der Menschen in Ostdeutschland ermöglicht. Hierfür sprach ich mit jungen und alten Menschen der Provinz, gesellschaftlich abgehängten Landwirtinnen und Frustwählerinnen, rechtsextremen Politikern und Menschen, die das Hinterland nicht den neuen Rechten überlassen wollen und sich für eine vielfältige Demokratie einsetzen. Rechtsextreme Demonstrationen und Übergriffe, Rassismus und Fremdenfeindlichkeit sowie der Verlust an Vertrauen in etablierte demokratische Parteien nehmen zu. Was haben der Fall der DDR, deren Aufarbeitung und ihre Auswirkungen auf die nachfolgenden Generationen damit zu tun? Wie wirken sich die Abwanderung der Industrie und die hierdurch enstehende Arbeitslosigkeit sowie der Mangel an Zukunftsperspektiven der Menschen, auf die aktuelle gesellschaftliche Stimmung aus?

Was braucht es in politischer Zukunft, um die große Zahl derer die sich abgehängt fühlen, wieder in ein partizipatives Demokratieverständnis zurückzuholen?

Anfang 2024 begann ich mich fotografisch mit dem Phänomen des Rechtsrucks näher auseinander zu setzen. Nach einer ersten Projektreise durch Ostdeutschland erhielt ich ein Stipendium der Hans-Böckler-Stiftung um mich im Rahmen meines Studiums tiefergehend und in Vollzeit mit diesem gesellschaftlichen Wandlunsgprozess auseinanderzusetzen. Die folgende Arbeit entstand im Rahmen der diesjährigen Landtagswahlen in Sachsen und wird als fortlaufendes Projekt fortgesetzt.

What does everyday life and normality look like when there is a war going on at the same time and absolutely nothing is normal? On the 24th of February 2022 the impossible happened. Terror all over Ukraine. Pure Chaos followed. „It´s hell here“, coming from a train going through Kharkiv. My friends from Kyiv stuck in place, roads so overcrowded that traffic could barely move. „We hear explosions.“ My friends from the West jumped into action „We need somebody to drive medication from Düsseldorf. Do you know someone?“ Impossible messages of friends leaving homes behind, not knowing if they would ever be able to go back. And then they did something that will forever impress me: They kept going. They kept living. I photographed the everyday life of my Ukrainian friends. I saw how much strength everydaylife can requiere. I saw how you live in the here and now, when yesterday is so long and tomorrow isn´t promised. How do you find a balance between it all? How do you built new routines in all the uncertainties, reclaim a sense of normality in midst of all the madness, find moments of happiness despite all the horrors? I don´t know how to put it into words, the simultaneousness of everything. „How are you?“ has become an incredibly difficult question, that I learned to rephrase. With russia strategically aiming to wear down Ukrainians mentally, simply keeping ones sanity feels like a fight of it´s own. By now the war has lasted more than two (fucking) long years and things are shifting. People are tiered. All of my friends have lost people, carried people they knew to their graves. It´s looking grimmer than it did before. The attention span of the West has seemingly reached its limit. Support comes slow. Weapons are running out and too many brave people are getting killed defending their country against the russian agressor at the front. More and more young men have to get drafted. Fear becomes more and more present. I want people to realize that war is nothing that happens far away, not made of of numbers. War is very close and the people affected by it are no different than us. I took these pictures since 2022 in Lviv, Kyiv and Vinnitsya. The project is ongoing. What photographic method will be used? Analog photography. I think the method can be described as participant observation. In what ways are you particularly suited to create this project? I have been working on photographic projects in various cities of Ukraine for over five years now. I tried to find my own angle to photograph the impact of the war. What social contribution could the project make? I hope it makes any. Some days I am afraid that it´s completely pointless. I need people to look at Ukraine. I need people to support Ukraine. Especially now as the attention is drifting further and further away, because I am terrified.

I am documenting life on Cyprus, an island divided since the civil war between Greek and Turkish Cypriots. The northern part, known as the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC), remains internationally unrecognized, while the United Nations peacekeepers patrol the “Green Line” to prevent further escalation. In contrast, the southern part of the island is the Republic of Cyprus, a member of both the EU and NATO. As 2024 marks the 50th anniversary of the Cyprus conflict, I am seeking to implement a project I’ve been working on since the spring of this year, supported by the Nikon Fotobus Grant. The “Green Line” cuts through the capital, Nicosia, making it the world’s only divided capital. Here, the contrasts between north and south are stark. The buffer zone, just meters wide in urban areas and stretching for kilometers in rural parts, feels frozen in time since the division. Some villages lie within this zone, deeply affecting the lives of their inhabitants. My project, Burning Sun on Frozen Conflicts, aims to tell the stories of people whose lives are shaped by this ongoing conflict. I focus specifically on the Turkish-controlled northern part of the island, where the lack of international recognition has led to precarious living conditions for many. The region suffers from unreliable electricity and water supplies, and its economy struggles due to its dependence on Turkey. A significant aspect of my work is to shed light on Turkey’s influence in Northern Cyprus, documenting the omnipresent propaganda and exploring the various social and economic pressures that tie the region to Turkey. As with many other de facto regimes, there is a high risk of renewed escalation. The Cyprus conflict is often referred to as a “frozen conflict,” but global events remind us that such conflicts rarely remain frozen forever. Recent examples include Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine and the escalating violence in the Middle East. Many of these conflicts stem from the non-recognition of states, and my goal is to highlight these issues before they escalate. I avoid the reactive approach of reporting only when conflicts flare up, focusing instead on preventive work. My photographic work has consistently focused on the peripheries and external borders of the EU, with previous projects in Georgia, Hungary, and Northern Ireland. At these places, our privileges as EU citizens stand in contrast, and I want to make them visible. I am planning two more visits to Cyprus before presenting the project as a photobook and in exhibitions. I am also in discussions with a gallery owner in Northern Cyprus who is interested in showcasing this work.

What future do the dreams and visions of the past have today?
The Brutalist period from 1950 onwards produced buildings that promised a forward-looking form of urban living. As many countries in Europe are facing a crisis in the housing market, these ideas need to be analyzed and checked for their continuity. According to the German Tenants‘ Association, there is a shortage of more than 900,000 affordable social housing units in Germany. People in a financially precarious situation suffer most from this. This makes the current vacancy rate and ineffective use of housing all the more incomprehensible.
The Ihme Center in Hanover was planned as a „city within a city“ and was built in the 1960s on the largest continuous concrete foundation in Europe. The brutalist building complex promised effective living space, surrounded by all the advantages and necessities of urban life.
Today, only 1,500 of the originally planned 2,400 people still live here. The decline in retail trade at the turn of the millennium led to the base floor becoming vacant. Only a fraction of the 60.000 m² commercial space is used by a few small businesses. Various investors have already failed to revitalize the brutalist building in the past. The construction work required for maintenance was repeatedly halted due to a lack of payment.
The foundations are now exposed in many places and the reinforcement of some of the load-bearing pillars is exposed to the weather. Architect Gerd Runge fears that the stability of some areas will no longer be guaranteed in around five years‘ time. The current majority owner and major investor Lars Windhorst no longer pays the monthly house payment of 470,000 euros. As a result, a mountain of debt of 13 million euros has accumulated. In addition, Windhorst‘s shares are encumbered with a land charge of 290 million euros. The monthly costs are now to be borne by the homeowners, which means a financial catastrophe for almost everyone.
For my project „Castle in the Clouds“, I investigated the extent to which this social utopia of the past still functions. Despite its hopeless future, this monstrosity of cold concrete is kept alive by the people who live there for a variety of reasons.

Reimagining Peace is an investigation into the profound transformation of former combatants in the Israel-Palestine conflict who have renounced violence to become advocates for peace. The project draws inspiration from Lizzie Doron’s book Sweet Occupation, where she shares the stories of five individuals who once participated in the armed struggle.

Adopting a collaborative approach inspired by principles of slow journalism, we work with protagonists from Doron’s book and others with similar experiences to trace pivotal turning points in their lives, connecting these memories to physical spaces marked by loss, violence, and transgression.

Revisiting these locations enables the protagonists to reconnect with their surroundings, allowing memories and emotions to resurface. Documenting this process forms the heart of the project: a portrait series that symbolizes their personal transformation. The shifting light of the twilight hours serves as a metaphor for their journey from conflict to peace. The slow and intentional process of analog photography reflects the deliberate approach of the project. 

To complement the portraits, the project incorporates contemplative videos that convey the atmosphere of these spaces and emphasize their significance. Additionally, photographs of the architecture of occupation highlight the physical and psychological divisions that fragment the land and its people.

While acknowledging the asymmetric power structures, these individuals are united by their shared pain, which has emerged from the ongoing conflict. Reimagining Peace invites viewers to engage intimately with their transformative stories, which connect them to the land, transcending prevailing narratives of a radicalized conflict to reveal pathways toward peace and reconciliation.

Through sharing their stories, Reimagining Peace aims to inspire others, fostering deeper empathy and understanding across entrenched divides. In light of the ongoing escalation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, recognizing and amplifying the efforts of those dedicating their lives to peace in the Middle East has never been more urgent.

The New Administrative Capital is a city planned on the drawing board and erected on the desert sand. Set to create living space for around 6.5 million people, Egypt’s new desert development hopes to alleviate Cairo’s infrastructural pressures. As the country’s military leadership strategically plans the transfer of its power centers to a remote, exclusive location, the new city remains sparsely populated; a growing cause for concern among critics of the megaproject.

Despite extreme prohibitions on press freedom and rejected applications for a permit, I made three trips on my own to the emerging capital. Using my appearance as a young, lost tourist, or sometimes disguised as an interested financiér, I managed to get access to various locations that have been hidden to the public eye. The resulting work provides insights into the controversial New Administrative Capital, shedding light on the dissonances of the, as yet, unnamed city. Beyond its horizons, fata morgana questions the timeless practice of constructing monumental structures and why its consequences so often go askew for its rulers and societies alike.

“Riverbeavers” is a meditation on the Elbe River as a place and about its people. How does this river exist in our minds? How does the river change the further I go east or west? I’m driving along the river by car—often getting out and walking along the riverbank for hours. I photograph people and places that I encounter on the way. It’s about making a connection with strangers through photography. My camera allows me to be curious and gives me a reason to approach people. The Elbe River fascinates me, because there is this strange serendipity: on one hand, it’s a place I’ve always known, having grown up about five minutes from the river; on the other hand, it’s a place I hardly know, as the Elbe River is so different everywhere—especially in eastern Germany. I decided to drive along the German part of the Elbe River to see it for myself. My way of working is typically associated with the idea of the “American photo road trip.” I drive along the river and and decide what to photograph as I see it. I use a large wooden camera and black-and-white film. The car is also helpful in that regard, as it offers protection from rain and a place to sleep. My project could be seen as a poetic approach to documentary photography. I don’t want to photograph the Elbe River for what it is but for how it feels and what I see in it. It’s about an interpretation of a place. I also like to think about the idea of the Elbe River as it exists in people’s minds (including my own). That’s why I don’t want to specify where a picture was taken; it’s enough to know it was taken near the Elbe River. I feel inspired by photographers like John Gossage, Michael Schmidt, Ute and Werner Mahler, and Matthew Genitempo, who work in a documentary tradition, but also free themselves from conventions and come up with new ways to make photographs. To the question of why I’m suited to work on this project: I wouldn’t say I’m particularly suited to do this. I just follow my interest in this place and the intense feeling and appreciation I have for this river and the people I meet. There have been countless books written about this river and the cities along it, so many stories told, so many songs sung, but I feel like there haven’t been enough photographs made. I also don’t want to pretend that there is a social contribution to what I do. At least that is not my primary “goal.” The goal in my work is to not have a “goal”—to free myself from preconceived notions and to photograph people and places with an open heart and mind. I would use the grant money to continue working on this project as hard as I can. I want to photograph along the Elbe River throughout every season, especially next summer. There are costs for gas, film, food and occasionally staying in youth hostels.

Das Projekt zielt darauf ab, die persönliche und emotionale Seite des Klimaaktivismus zu beleuchten, indem die Individuen hinter den orangefarbenen Westen der Bewegung „Letzte Generation“ in den Fokus gerückt werden. Durch eine Serie aus intimen Porträts und dokumentarischen Fotografien soll das Leben, die Motivation und die Herausforderungen dieser Aktivistinnen eingefangen werden. Ziel ist es nicht nur, ihre sichtbaren Protestaktionen zu dokumentieren, sondern auch ihre inneren Kämpfe, Überzeugungen und die Widerstandskraft, die notwendig ist, um sich so intensiv für diese Art von Aktivismus einzusetzen. Dabei sollen Fragen wie „Wer sind diese Menschen?“, „Was treibt sie an?“ und „Wie verändert dieses Engagement ihr Leben?“ erkundet werden, um so eine menschliche Perspektive auf den Klimaaktivismus zu eröffnen. Fotografische Methodik: Das Projekt kombiniert dokumentarische Fotografie mit künstlerischer Porträtfotografie, um eine immersive, erzählerische Bildreihe zu schaffen. Die Porträts werden sorgfältig komponiert, um sowohl die innere Stärke als auch die Verletzlichkeit der einzelnen Aktivistinnen sichtbar zu machen und so die „menschliche Seite“ des Aktivismus zu zeigen. Ergänzt werden diese durch spontane, dokumentarische Aufnahmen während der Proteste und in privaten Momenten, um die emotionale Atmosphäre und die tiefe Hingabe dieser Menschen spürbar zu machen. Eignung für das Projekt: Durch meine bisherige Arbeit in der Protestfotografie und meine freiberuflichen Tätigkeiten, unter anderem für ProjectTogether und die AWO, verfüge ich über die nötige Erfahrung, um in emotional aufgeladenen und sensiblen Umgebungen zu arbeiten. Mein Studium an der Ostkreuzschule für Fotografie hat mir die technischen und dokumentarischen Fähigkeiten vermittelt, die optimal zur Zielsetzung des Projekts passen. Über die Zeit habe ich außerdem Vertrauen und Verbindungen mit den Aktivistinnen aufgebaut, was mir einen besonderen Zugang ermöglicht, um diese Menschen respektvoll und authentisch zu porträtieren. Gesellschaftlicher Beitrag: Indem das Projekt die persönliche Seite des Aktivismus beleuchtet, soll es Empathie und Verständnis in der breiten Öffentlichkeit fördern und eine Brücke zwischen Aktivistinnen und Gesellschaft schlagen. In Zeiten zunehmender Spaltung kann das Verständnis für die Beweggründe und die emotionalen Herausforderungen hinter dem Aktivismus die Solidarität stärken und Vorurteile abbauen. Letztendlich möchte das Projekt eine authentische Erzählung bieten, die Stereotypen hinterfragt, den gesellschaftlichen Dialog anregt und ein tieferes Bewusstsein dafür schafft, was es wirklich bedeutet, Aktivist*in zu sein.

The collaborative project “VARA” takes a photographic approach to labor migration in Romania. Large parts of the population move to other European countries to find better work and are therefore unable to be with their families for most of the year. This changes in the summer (Romanian: Vara), when the families are reunited for a few weeks. In their pictures, the two photographers show the melancholy that surrounds the brief get-together.

The project also takes an in-depth look at questions of religion. Romania is one of the most religious countries in Europe, with the Christian (Orthodox) faith being the main religion practiced. Hope and forgiveness of sin are among the central convictions of the Christian faith. In their images, the two photographers search for traces that are reminiscent of biblical stories and reflect the realities of life for the Romanian population.

The protagonists of the story are mainly young people, as they represent the future of the country. They too are faced with the decision of whether to pursue a promising life in another European country or follow a more arduous path in their own country.

On February 24, 2022, Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Many people had to flee abroad. More than a year has
passed. They began to adapt to a new place, although most of them had never thought of leaving their homeland. However, people are trying to continue living despite all the circumstances. I was wondering how people feel themselves in their new homes. How they turn their temporary apartments into something that can remind them of the place they had to flee. I also added a self-portrait since I have the same experience. I left my apartment in Kharkiv on February 24 and never came back there.
Our relationship with our home has changed dramatically in recent years. First, there was a lockdown that forced everyone to stay at home all the time. Then the war came and in return, people had to leave their apartments, possibly even forever. But our home remains important to us, even if we have to create it from scratch.

Almost five years after the historic events of 2020 in Belarus, my project explores the lives of Belarusians—those still within the country and those, like myself, in forced exile—who face the dual realities of repression and displacement. This journey began when I documented the opposition movement as a wedding photographer during the 2020 protests. Since then, it has grown into a story of how Belarusians, despite being separated by borders, stay connected through shared memories, resilience, and a deep bond with our homeland. Using a photojournalistic approach, I aim to capture raw, unfiltered moments that reveal both the vulnerability and strength of our people. This project combines documentary portraits, landscapes, and intimate scenes of daily life, depicting the diverse layers of Belarusian communities across Europe. I will continue documenting people from all segments of Belarusian society—from ordinary citizens and successful businesspeople to the young and old, volunteer fighters in Ukraine and their families, activists, and political figures. Through these varied perspectives, I aim to capture their transformations and the personal journeys that shape their identities and resilience in these challenging times. My work seeks to answer essential questions: What does it mean to be Belarusian today? What cultural and physical boundaries define us? How can we resist, and where can we be free? Equally important, this project explores what still unites us. Despite the physical and ideological barriers between us, Belarusians share the memory of the events of 2020, the fight for freedom, and a deep desire to see our country liberated from repression. As a Belarusian who documented the 2020 protests and is now part of the exiled community, I bring a unique perspective and commitment to this work. My background in civil engineering and commercial photography shapes my approach, combining structural awareness with storytelling, while my recent studies in photojournalism have prepared me to cover complex issues of identity and belonging. These experiences help me portray the evolving story of Belarusians from multiple perspectives. The project’s social impact lies in raising awareness of Belarus’s unique situation and its connection to broader geopolitical dynamics in Eastern Europe. As Belarusian involvement in the Ukraine conflict grows and new presidential elections approach in January 2025, this work will serve as a visual record of resilience in the face of repression and the enduring ties that connect Belarusians across borders. It offers audiences insights into the shared sacrifices, hopes, and identities that continue to define us, even from afar.

The German Unity Trail is a long-distance hiking trail within Germany and runs from the easternmost German city of Görlitz to the westernmost German city of Aachen and is approximately 1,080 km long. It passes through Saxony, Bavaria, Thuringia, Hesse and North Rhine-Westphalia. At a time when negative narratives dominate the inner-german discourse, Berlin-based photographers Philipp Czampiel and Maximilian Gödecke are embarking on a journey along the German Unity Trail in 2024. Philipp Czampiel, who grew up in the West, is walking from the West to the East and Maximilian Gödecke, who grew up in the East, is walking from the East to the West. Along the trail the two will create visuall narratives that show their experiences and encounters along the way which help them understand the country, it’s history, it’s worries and hopes a bit better. Encounters that, as they have discovered so far, could offer a voice to people who often feel overlooked. The project is a performance, a documentary as well as a visual poem abstracted from collective experiences collected during this hike. The goal is an opening exhibition in Berlin on the day of german unity in 2025 followed by multliple exhibitions at places along the hiking path to share the images with the people photographed and more.

Violence by the Russian occupying forces poses a particular threat to queer Ukrainians, as our research and the reports of several organizations show. Despite all this, there is a large community in Ukraine. Not only does war always affect marginalised people in particular, their perspectives and life experiences are repeatedly pushed into the background while the armed conflict takes center stage. War has been raging in Europe for over two years now and still, there is no end in sight. Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the political and social reform initiated by Euromaidan has been put to the test. The dangers minorities face, especially those who belong or support the LGBTQ community, have received less attention in the media. At the beginning of the Russian invasion, the American government reported to the UN that Russian troops possessed so-called execution and deportations lists that also carried the names of LGBTQ activists. While these lists were never disclosed to the public, there are reports from the (formerly) occupied territories about war crimes against LGBTQ community members. Queer people in Ukraine are facing fear because of their sexual identity. Since the beginning of the Russian invasion, I have been travelling to the Ukraine to explore the reality of queer people’s lives. The result is the photo book “Fragile as Glass” which was published by Verlag Kettler in April 2024 (https://www.verlag-kettler.de/en/books/sitara-thalia-ambrosio/). The book tells the personal stories of five queer people by combining documentary and portrait photography and interviews. It also features the text “Beyond Pain” by journalist Yana Radchenko, who had to flee her own hometown to escape the Russian troops. Together with Radchenko, I investigated war crimes against the queer community, met survivors and visited formerly occupied territories. I accompanied pride marches in Kharkiw and spoke to the prosecutors, trying to bring the perpetrators in front of Ukrainian and international courts. Now, I want to go back to Ukraine to do an in-depth analysis of how human rights in Ukraine have been affected by the Russian invasion. I gained access to a queer battalion of the Ukrainian military, which I want to visit, to talk about the experience of queer people amongst Ukrainian troops. Furthermore I want to investigate how two years of war have changed the Ukrainian perspective on LGBTQ-rights. The Nikon Fotobusgrant would not only give me the opportunity to delve deeper into the subject, but would also give me more security when working in a country at war. There is also the possibility that the topic will be seen more publicly, which is otherwise often forgotten. Personally, it would give me the opportunity to develop my career as a young woman in photojournalism. As a part of the Queer Community, and as a journalist, I believe it is my duty to shed light on this topic.

Ja! Allerdings nur, wenn Du zum Zeitpunkt Deiner Bewerbung nicht älter als 30 Jahre alt und in Deutschland, Österreich oder der Schweiz wohnhaft bist. Deine Nationalität ist egal.

Ja! Solange Du zum Zeitpunkt Deiner Bewerbung an einer Hochschule in Deutschland, Österreich oder der Schweiz eingeschrieben bist. Deine Nationalität ist egal.

Selbstverständlich!

Nein, Du musst kein Fotobus-Mitglied sein! Falls Dich eine kostenlose Mitgliedschaft interessiert, geht’s hier lang

Ja. Gruppenarbeiten von zwei oder mehreren Fotograf:innen sind zugelassen, allerdings müssen alle Mitglieder der Gruppe die Teilnahmebedingungen erfüllen.

Nein. Einzelpersonen können nur eine einzige Bewerbung einreichen, können aber zusätzlich an einer Gruppenbewerbung teilnehmen.

Ja. Dasselbe Projekt kann im nächsten Jahr nochmals eingereicht werden, falls es noch keine Förderung durch den Nikon Fotobus Grant erhalten hat.

Ja! Du bewirbst Dich um die Förderung eines bereits begonnenen Projekts.

Es gibt keine Vorgaben für die Verwendung des Fördergeldes. Der Abschlussbericht muss allerdings beschreiben, wozu genau das Geld verwendet wurde.

Nein.

Ja.

Ja!

Nein.

Nein. Das Urheberrecht an Deinen Bildern verbleibt bei Dir. Nur die Bilder der geförderten Fotograf:innen dürfen im Zusammenhang mit dem Nikon Fotobus Grant verwendet werden um z.B. Werbung für den Nikon Fotobus Grant im darauffolgenden Jahr zu machen.

Nein.

Nein.

Nein. Wir fördern ausschließlich fotografische Arbeiten.

Nein.

Ja. Der Kern der Arbeit muss fotografisch sein. Darüber hinaus können andere Elemente wie Texte, gefundene Bilder, Dokumente, Zeichnungen, usw. eingesetzt werden.