Alex Blanco

On May 18th 2026, my phone vibrated at 2 a.m. It was my mother calling from Odesa, where she now lives. No one likes those middle-of-the-night calls, especially from family members, and especially if those family members are in a war zone where their city is a primary target. Since 2022, Odesa has been hit daily, without a break, by drones, ballistic missiles, and bombs, you name it. The school I graduated from is destroyed, and the maternity ward where I was born no longer exists…

And last night, a house exploded on the very street where my parents live. Luckily, no one died in that particular house, though it is now a pile of dust. But my parents’ home, the place where I did all those photoshoots with my mom, lost seven windows due to the blast wave. That is not to mention the destroyed doors, damage to parts of the roof, and other destruction across the premises. It was luck, pure luck, that my parents’ house is still standing and that they are alive.

Yet, the profound shock from the explosion and the severe damage, which is incredibly difficult to cover financially, remains. I often feel that nothing I do will ever be enough to change the reality that every Ukrainian citizen is facing right now. But I also know that even the little I can do can be a great help. I can certainly help my parents raise funds to fix their house, which is also their only source of income since they rent out a part of it during the summer. To support this, I have chosen four images that are deeply personal to me from two different projects about Odesa. I am offering these as a limited-edition print sale to crowdfund the urgent repairs my parents’ home needs today.

As a child, I found joy in wandering the streets of my hometown and exploring its hidden treasures. From the remains of a German church to a secluded courtyard that once housed a brothel, each discovery held a piece of Odesa’s rich history. I remember the beauty of a fresco with missing parts and the sadness of destroyed family crests on the doors of almost every building in the city centre. But despite the scars of its past, Odesa blossomed before my eyes. It was transformed into a haven of food and art, with local restaurants offering a new take on home-cooked meals and cultural centres hosting film and photography festivals. During the time I lived and visited the city frequently, Odesa became synonymous with eternal summer, the most delicious and exquisite cuisine and the warmth of family and friends.

It was this Odesa that inspired my project “Meat, Fish & Aubergine Caviar” – a story about the bittersweetness of life, seasoned with tasty food and family anecdotes. I returned to Odesa between 2016 and 2021, capturing moments of my parents’ everyday life with its ups and downs. I hoped to capture their essence in my photographs. I wanted to keep them alive along with my childhood memories.

Unfortunately, the vibrant spirit of Odesa was shattered by the full-scale Russian invasion in February 2022. My hope to revive the cheerful atmosphere of Odesa faded as the city became a landscape of fear and despair. Two years later, Odesa still suffers from daily shelling. Looking at the pictures of “Meat, Fish & Aubergine Caviar” now, I am reminded of all that has been lost. But amidst the shattered memories and broken dreams, I find solace in the warmth of Odesa’s story, documented in these pages – a tribute to the fleeting moments of joy in the deep and turbulent ocean of life.