Each work in the Liberated series is a cyanotype of my childhood photograph, set against a map of the neighborhood where it was originally taken. The backgrounds are maps from the Mariupol Destructions project, which document the consequences of Russia’s war crimes against Ukraine in Mariupol between February and May 2022. Damaged houses are marked in red, buildings completely demolished by the Russian occupation authorities are shown in black, and crosses or skulls indicate the burial sites of civilians in the courtyards of apartment blocks, which became makeshift cemeteries amid unending fighting and the inhuman conditions of life under siege.

“Liberation” is what Russian propaganda calls the occupation of eastern and southern Ukraine. But when I hear the word “liberated,” I see burned-out cities and people who once had everything, and now are left with ruins – and the deepest, unerasable imprint of war.