An instinct to photograph

The story of Natalia Kravchuk is a personal story of success, although the photographer herself prefers to eschew such exalted categories. “I just live and take pictures,” she says. Nevertheless, her photos – which often cause a stir – reflect a subtle vision and understanding of what is going on in the picture frame, i.e., in the country. Natalia says she first submitted her works to the Den Photo Exhibit ten years ago. One of the photos was accepted but won no award. This spurred, rather than scared off, Natalia. Since then, she has always been sending her photos to the Den photo competition. This year Natalia “was mature enough” to get the Prize of Prizes, Golden Day. “This is the first time I received an award like this. I am not an ambitious photographer, and I do not in fact take part in various photo competitions. But I do take part in the Den contest. What appeals to me is that it is a Ukrainian contest which displays many works of my colleagues and friends,” Natalia says. She has also accepted the proposal of the editor-in-chief Larysa Ivshyna to conduct a photography master class for participants of Den’s next Summer School of Journalism. We have learned that Natalia wants to look through all the photos quietly after the opening of the 15th International Den Photo Exhibit. In an interview at the Lavra gallery, she spoke about her almost hereditary love of photography and the necessity to work “seven-eight sessions a day, six months without days-off” to become a professional. She also reflected on whether it is a woman’s job to run about with a telephoto lens in hand and whether there is solidarity among Ukrainian photographers.

Your Den Photo Exhibit story is very old…

“I first sent a photo in, maybe, 2002 and I still remember it. I stood near the Kyiv railway station on a street where trams ran. It suddenly began to pour, and passersby chose to hide under a store’s awning. In a matter of ten minutes, they were chest-deep in water. I stood at a tram stop and watched all this. But the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. There were girls with see-through packets on their heads and flooded-over cars – and I was photographing this. I must admit that I had low-quality equipment and there was nothing to boast of. But I went on sending my photos to the Den photo competition. About eight years ago, this exhibit awarded me a Special Prize from the UN Office in Ukraine for the picture Orphan. I spent the prize money – about 1,500 hryvnias – to buy my favorite backpack which I have always carried ever since. It is the most comfortable and memorable for me. In any case, it only benefits Den when its photographers mature. This photo exhibit rallies talented masters and active young people around itself. When I was first presenting my photo for the exhibition, I saw nothing but my work, of course. But now, whenever I pass along the halls, I look more closely, read captions, and watch with interest the growth of my colleagues and the exhibit.”

What trends prevail in photo journalism now?

“Young photographers are dropping the classical one-frame photography. A photographer is not just a person who has taken a picture and is trying to show, send, or sell it. He also bears a social burden. Increasingly popular become projects that combine photography, video, voice, and text. This format puts across much more information, and it is far more interesting. You get right into the milieu. For example, there is a superb project of the National Opera’s Vladislav Musiienko, a part of which is displayed at the 15th Den Photo Exhibition. But I have always run short of time to prepare a series due to endless business trips – and here I want to thank Ms. Ivshyna, for it is her choice and it would have never occurred to me to send it to Den’s contest.”

And which one would you choose?

“I like the winking Clinton. But it’s my personal opinion. I had long been waiting for an opportunity to take a good snap, and she suddenly winked.”

You seem to know how to catch an interesting detail or moment…

“One must photograph and select. When I photographed on a film, I was issued three spools for a session, which makes up 108 shots. And every time I was developing the photos I was thinking: ‘My Lord, why did I use up all these films?’ Now that I am in digital photography I sometimes do more than a thousand shots. At least you don’t need to develop. Every photographer has his or her own stereotypes and style. Some people I know say they can recognize my photos even without reading the captions. I love my work very much, for it lets me travel to interesting places. I was in Georgia recently, shortly before the elections. I was also lucky to travel to Africa. I am quick on my toes – they may call me and say I am going on a business trip today, so I will get up and set off.”

And you will drag all the photo equipment with you…

“I can recall my first photo mentor Leonid Hendler. He used to say: ‘Natalka, you are a girl, please take my briefcase.’ He had a big Soviet-style briefcase which could comprise everything: two Zenit cameras, a Praktika camera, and optical items, from a large telephoto lens to 300-, 200-, 100-, and 50-millimeter lenses. In this country women do even harder work. But nobody asks a wall painter how she manages to carry buckets or a beer bar waitress how she manages to carry four 1-liter mugs.”

Is it this mentor who implanted love of photography in you?

“Not only he. My dad once said that when he was 16, he bought a photo camera. He lived at a dormitory in poor conditions. To connect a magnifier in the room, he had to screw off the bulb and put in all kinds of wiring – so he would always receive electric shocks. And the saddest was that he was always short of money because he had to spend it on reagents and films. Sometimes he even had nothing to eat. So when he was asked to exchange the photo camera for a watch, he agreed. To tell the truth, I have seen none of the photos dad had taken in his youth, but I also began to dream of photographing in my childhood. A FED camera cost 18 rubles at the time – not so much for a Soviet citizen. But my parents were afraid that further purchases of the photo equipment would cost them a pretty penny. For this reason, I began to photograph rather late. I took the first shot at about 18.”

Is this late for a photographer?

“In principle, yes. I accidentally came to know at age 20 that there was a vocational school in my native Vinnytsia, which trained photographers. But the story of me as photo journalist had begun way before that. After leaving school, I applied to the cameramen division of the Kyiv National Karpenko-Kary University of Cinema, Theater and Television. It turned out that you could only be admitted if you knew how to photograph. You had to hand in 30 photos and take part in an art contest – two days of filming in the open air and in the studio. As a result, I was not admitted, came back to Vinnytsia, went to work, and bought a Zenit with the first money I earned. I entered the abovementioned vocational institution in Vinnytsia. I was lucky: my teacher Leonid Hendler had been working at a Vinnytsia newspaper for many years and was considered a master photo journalist, although he first took a photo camera in his hands at 33. After graduation, I began to work as photo journalist at the Vinnytsia newspaper Podillia. Since then, I’ve been in photography more or less professionally, thus earning a livelihood.”

But you did not forget your youth-time dream, did you?

“I finally entered Karpenko-Kary University in 2002 – it was a part-time department, though, for I was not sure I would go through as a fulltime student. I found a job in Kyiv. My first place of employment in the capital, my school of life, was Kiev Express, a daily. In Vinnytsia, I had also worked for a daily, but it was a cushy place – a couple of photo sessions a day, a lab at my disposal, a black-and-white film, developing, and a smooth rhythm of life. And in Kyiv: a briefing at 9 a.m., you come home at 11 p.m., seven-eight sessions a day, six months without a day-off.”

What did you photograph during these six months?

“For a newspaper, you photograph ‘the whole shooting match.’ It’s terrible at times. For example, you are being sent to the scene of a murder committed a week ago. What is there to photograph? You come over without a shot taken. And Vadym Balytsky, executive secretary, the No. 2 man in the newspaper, says to you: ‘What do you mean nothing is there? If you have come, devise something and take a picture.’ He taught me to think before going to a session. Sometimes you try to fantasize a picture out of nothing. But, unfortunately, I didn’t work long for Kiev Express. I got employed there in September, and as soon as after May Day we come and are told: ‘Dear staff, we’ve been closed.’ There seemed to be no problems and the newspaper worked as one family, but we suddenly hear ‘Good bye.’ I was looking for a new job a month or two. I decided I would be staying in Kyiv until I tried all the chances. I was invited for an interview to the six-month-old KP Media holding which still belonged to Jed Sunden and comprised the newspaper Kyiv Post, and the journals Afisha and Korrespondent. I was lucky for a second time in Kyiv, for I got into a company of remarkable photographers – the four persons who worked for four publications. One more journal, Pink, opened very soon. This brought along nighttime photo sessions. It was very difficult but also very interesting – there was a spirit of healthy competition among us.”

And is there “unhealthy” competition among photo journalists?

“When I was still doing film-based photography, many (except for those in Kyiv) thought for some reason that it was beneath their dignity to discover the secret of a better photo solution. You ask them something, and they reply: ‘My girlie, you know it’s not a woman’s job.’ But I had never had this problem in Kyiv. I just discussed with more mature and better known ones what I did wrong in this picture or why that shot was good. If you do your work and display affection for people, you will be respected. When I came to Kyiv, there were several female photographers here, but, as a matter of fact, they were not much known. I met the photographer Viktor Suvorov who introduced me into the milieu of Kyiv elite photo journalists.”

Who are these people?

“They are the ones who did their job better than the others. When I came to Kyiv, we photographed on the film and on slides. There were fewer than a hundred photo journalists in the capital. We were few, and we knew each other. But now I only know those who have been in the profession for very many years or the young ones who come themselves to meet me. Earlier, five photographers used to come to a routine press conference, but if you come now, it is difficult to take a unique picture. Once you stop somewhere, five people or so immediately line up next to you. Or as soon as you’ve seen something, four photo correspondents are already running there. I am not saying it is bad. Earlier, when film was used, there came up mini-labs for the so called ‘soapboxes’ [simple hand-held cameras. – Ed.]. Photographers called them ‘photography killers.’ But how can a man with a ‘soapbox’ rob you of your money? Let him photograph. I recall again my teacher Hendler who used to say: ‘If one can see, he or she can take a photo even with a matchbox.’”

What do you prefer – press or art photography?

“I have always liked reportage and sport reviews. But, after photographing sport a little, I saw that it was boring for me. If I only could globetrot! And we had not only soccer, but also basketball, artistic gymnastics, and a bit of boxing. It was clear that the best pictures had already been taken and I would have to repeat all the time. The most interesting sport photos I made were those of rugby. More often than not, it is very funny to photograph rugby in spite of the brutality of male players.”

Speaking of brutal men… Are you, a female photographer, not afraid of being unprotected at mass rallies?

“I no longer like public rallies. I haven’t in fact been photographing them in the past few years. By all accounts, it’s all the same – paid for and bought out. I feel pity for the old people and the too passionate individuals who attend rallies. I feel pity for the police. I don’t think these guys are too happy to beat somebody. It’s their job. They are paid for this, as we are for taking pictures. We can all end up at the receiving end. We know where we go and always try not to provoke them, even though it is very difficult to do. At one of the rallies, when Tymoshenko was just about to go down, the level of madness exceeded the limit on all the sides. But in other countries, too, the police take a no less cruel attitude to photographers, be it a boy or a girl.”

But you still continue to live off photography?

“I am just living. I derive pleasure from my work. Unlike other people, I do not agonize about this. I’ve been in photography for so many years. I photograph what I like more or less successfully. I always carry a photo camera. Still, there can be moments when it is not at hand, but there’s a sight not to be missed. You just stand, weep, and want to bite off your elbow. Photographers develop, in the course of time, a photographic instinct of sorts – to take a picture. And everybody has a style and taste of their own. It seems to me that my photos adequately show what I can say to the world. For I am always on the other side – I look and listen instead of speaking…”