Not A Tourist

Ulysses syndrome is an atypical set of depressive, anxious, dissociative, and somatoform symptoms that arise as a result of extreme stress levels, which are specific to the process of modern migration.

I left my home, family, friends, and job and headed to Georgia in the hope of escaping political repression and military service in Russia. The decision was made quickly, and with a small backpack containing the essentials, I set out on the journey. Alongside tens of thousands of Russians, we stood in a multi-kilometer traffic jam at the Georgian border for three days, praying that the Russian border guards would let me leave the country. Miraculously, we arrived in Tbilisi. I was happy to be in a safe place, fascinated by a culture entirely unfamiliar to me, and enchanted by exotic views. However, with each passing day, it became clearer that my journey was not a tourist trip, and ahead of me lay a multitude of challenges faced by many migrants. 

I started working on a project driven by the internal need to make sense of my situation in this new reality. On one hand, I do feel like a tourist and still marvel at this beautiful country; on the other hand, I constantly confront the fears and difficulties of migrant life. Reflecting on my situation, I began to create collages. I wanted to combine the perspectives of both a migrant and a tourist in one image, creating a series of pictures with cityscapes against the backdrop of sheer cliffs. 

Language barriers and job search difficulties led me to contemplate my place in the new environment. I wanted to delve deeper into the cultural context of the country. I became interested in the epic, poetry, and history of Georgia, watched Georgian films, and examined old photographs. My fascination led me to the 19th-century photographer Dmitry Ivanovich Yermakov. I studied pictures of typical residents of Georgia in the 1860s and tried on the roles of those people. I saw myself as a Gurian, worked as a camel driver, and found a friend with whom I could share a drink. Now all that remained was to step out of the house and recreate everything in the real world. 

After a few months, I found myself in depression. A psychologist advised me to leave the house every day and engage in physical activities. That's when I started taking long walks in the mountains. Observing the mountain landscapes, I noticed something unusual – a landslide track. A massive piece of land washed away by water had slid down the mountain surface, taking with it grass and trees, leaving behind a gash of rocks and sand. This landscape resonated with my state of mind. I returned to this place many times, photographing it at different times of the year, watching how the surface changed from autumn to autumn. Later, I learned that my depression was a typical phenomenon for most migrants, described in science as the "Ulysses Syndrome." 

I've been living in Georgia for over a year and a half and don't know if I'll ever be able to return home. I've made friends – migrants from Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus. I work in a Russian-speaking company and socialize in expat places. I feel free communicating with Georgians in Russian or English, but Georgia remains a place of residence for me. I don't feel at home, and the linguistic and cultural gap cannot be bridged by immersing myself in old Georgian photographs. I've learned the Georgian alphabet and can read in Kartuli, but I don't understand the meanings of words. 

Due to the war, millions of people from Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus have found themselves outside their homelands. I view this socio-political process through the lens of my subjective experience, and I want the voice of migrants to be heard. Sooner or later, we will return home, and for now, I await summer, learn the language, and dream of reuniting with my daughters and wife. When they come, we'll go and see how the massive landslide track on the mountain slope slowly overgrows with grass and is covered by the forest. 

I have selected 20 images from a larger project intended for a photo book publication. The project is fully photographed, and the photo book is in the editing and layout stage.