I come from Slovakia, a country neighboring Ukraine, and I’ve been visiting Ukraine regularly since 2014. Because of this close bond, the start of the full-scale Russian invasion felt especially personal to me. Toward the end of November 2022, as the first wartime Christmas season approached, I decided to spend nearly a month in Kyiv to document everyday life under siege.
During this period, Russia began ramping up attacks on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure. Rolling blackouts and sudden outages plunged entire districts into darkness, making the city feel simultaneously eerie and strangely beautiful. The extent of the darkness varied depending on where and when the strikes occurred; sometimes power cuts were scheduled in different neighborhoods to distribute electricity as evenly as possible, while at other times, large swaths of the city lost power all at once after a major attack.
I’d seen a post on Facebook about an atmospheric phenomenon known as airglow, which looks a bit like the Aurora Borealis. An amateur astronomer in Kyiv had captured images of it during a massive blackout, claiming the reduced light pollution made it visible. Intrigued by the idea, I grabbed my camera and set out into Kyiv’s nighttime streets, curious both to observe the sky and to see how people were adapting.
Under normal circumstances, Kyiv is a vibrant metropolis with bright city lights. Now, though, it was transformed into a surreal world of shadows and silhouettes. Headlamps and phone flashlights made delicate patterns on the walls, and street musicians performed in underpasses, their tunes blending with the rumbling of portable generators outside. Many shops and cafés had armed themselves with these generators, becoming makeshift hubs where locals could charge their phones, warm up with a hot drink, and momentarily forget the hardships of war. Even in the gloom, there was a sense of solidarity in the air—neighbors looked out for each other, and in some high-rise apartments, residents kept supplies of food and water in the elevators in case anyone got stuck during a sudden power failure.
Alongside these striking scenes, so-called “indomitability centers” began springing up across the city—often set up in schools or tents—offering warmth, hot tea, and a place to regroup. Meanwhile, daily life went on in surprisingly resilient ways. People would shop by flashlight, with a store clerk trailing behind to note down what was taken from the shelves. At home, a graphic designer told me he slept with a lamp switched on, so that whenever the electricity returned in the middle of the night, the sudden light would wake him—allowing him to get right back to work on his computer.
My curiosity about airglow eventually brought me to Kyiv’s main observatory, where astronomers explained how the sky itself emits a faint light even when all external sources are off. This subtle glow can become more noticeable during widespread blackouts. It’s a reminder that, in the absence of city lights, nature can offer its own kind of illumination, however subdued.
I filmed these observations between late November 2022—when Ukraine commemorates the anniversary of the Holodomor famine—and the following New Year and Orthodox Christmas celebrations. Although the city was dark, festive spirit flickered here and there: street musicians still played, some cafés remained open as co-working spaces, and people found ways to celebrate the holidays despite the constant threat of shelling. It was a delicate mix of fear and hope, resilience and vulnerability.
By the time I left, Kyiv had shown me how an entire metropolis adapts when its most basic utilities are under attack. Perhaps most striking was how, even in the toughest moments, a strong sense of community glowed in the winter air. In the darkness, people reached out to one another—proving that when the lights go out, human connection can shine brighter than ever.
