This photographer documents Chornobyl with cameras he can never bring home
| Photo: Kamil Budzynski |
Since 2018, Polish photographer Kamil Budzynski has been placing homemade pinhole cameras throughout the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone, leaving them in abandoned buildings, trees and other locations for months at a time. The resulting solargraphs are strange, quiet and even disorienting. Ghostly buildings and overgrown streets sit beneath bright arcs traced by the Sun, thanks to exposures that can stretch across seasons. Kosmo Foto recently published a fascinating interview with Budzynski about the long-running project.
Budzynski first visited the exclusion zone in the mid-2010s, but after several trips, he began looking for a process that could better match the feeling of the place. "After three trips to the Chornobyl exclusion zone, I began to feel that I couldn't do the place justice by walking around with a digital camera," he said. "Searching for inspiration in niche photographic processes, I came across solargraphy just as I was about to pack for another visit."
"I began to feel that I couldn't do the place justice by walking around with a digital camera"
For the unfamiliar, solargraphy is the process of capturing the Sun's path across the sky over long periods (days, weeks or even years) using pinhole cameras. Budzynski's cameras are often made from simple objects such as 35mm film canisters, drink cans and small tins, loaded with very low-sensitivity photographic paper and fitted with carefully made pinholes. He has installed more than 100 of them, though not all have survived because of Ukraine's harsh winters or Russia's invasion. After retrieving the exposed paper, Budzynski leaves the cameras behind to avoid bringing any radioactive particles out of the exclusion zone.
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This photograph shows the metal shield built to contain the radioactive remnants of the Chornobyl Nuclear Power Plant. Photo: Kamil Budzynski |
The distinctive look of the images is not the result of radiation, despite their months-long stay in the exclusion zone. Budzynski told Kosmo Foto that "for nuclear radiation to affect photosensitive paper it would need to be far too dangerous to get near it," but added that the weather was a much bigger challenge. Moisture, freezing temperatures and months of exposure can all leave their mark on the final image.
What makes the project more than a visual curiosity is how well the process matches the subject. Budzynski is using a camera to record time passing through places many people still think of as frozen in 1986. That distinction feels especially relevant this year, as April 26 marked 40 years since the Chornobyl nuclear disaster. Pripyat was evacuated the day after the accident, and tens of thousands of people were ultimately removed from the surrounding area. Budzynski's images push against the familiar "ghost town" shorthand by showing that the zone is not static.
"I wanted to capture the passing of time in a literal sense"
"I wanted to capture the passing of time in a literal sense," Budzynski told Kosmo Foto. "Pripyat and the entire exclusion zone may be frozen in 1986 to us, but life there continues. Stray dogs and wild horses roam the empty streets, plants climb tall buildings, and the sun still rises every morning – whether we are there to see it or not. I hope I can convey how insignificant I feel when standing among the ruins to those looking at my photographs."
| Photo: Kamil Budzynski |
Russia's 2022 invasion altered Budzynski's solargraphy trips. He has returned to Ukraine since then on humanitarian trips, during which he was able to recover a few cameras. "Most cameras from this period did not survive, destroyed by Ukrainian forces searching for booby traps and other surprises left by the retreating Russian army," he said. "I had quite a lot of explaining and apologizing to do when our guards learned of my little innocent photography project. One particular camera left right near the power plant caused quite a stir."
Kosmo Foto's full interview goes much deeper into Budzynski's process, the locations he has photographed and the practical problems of hiding a pinhole camera in a place where both weather and history are working against you. It is worth reading in full, both for the mesmerizing images and for the way the project's technical limitations become part of the story rather than obstacles to it.
You can also see more of Budzynski's work at his website.