My project was about Lithuania, and how it was changing under the influence of bigger and wealthier countries – previously Russia, but now the West.
The country is really small – it has just over three million people – and I think it shows the transition from one culture to another very clearly. I spent the first 17 years of my life there, but I didn’t realise then how it was changing. After I left, I decided to look deeper into the subject, exploring my own past and my relationships to politics and culture.
Because I was already familiar with Lithuania, I knew roughly what I’d find, but I had to research the places that I wanted to visit in more depth, and as I did, new things cropped up. By the time I went, I had in mind a list of locations for the trip, how I was going to do it, and what I wanted to get out of it.

My first visit, in December 2012, really didn’t work out. I planned the whole trip expecting it to be snowy, and it wasn’t – it was grey and rained most of the time. I spent a whole month without getting any of the footage I needed, waiting for this perfect moment that never happened – even if you prepare, things can always go wrong. I flew back, checked all my photos, and then decided that I had to take the risk and return for two weeks in January to get exactly what I wanted. The temperature had changed from +10 to -30 or -40 – I was really lucky.
Vilnius was my base, and from there I went all around Lithuania, spending a few days in one city and then another, going back for more material if I needed. I also went to Šiauliai, the town where I was born, which had had the biggest airbase in the Soviet Union outside of Russian borders, and the cities of Klaipėda and Panevėžys. I travelled by train and car – places like military airports are always in the middle of nowhere. My friends in Lithuania mainly took me around – otherwise I’d never have got anywhere.

My flights took up the most funding. Once I was there things were a little cheaper, but it still cost to get around, and to stay where I needed – in hostels and hotels, as well as with friends – and sustain myself. There were also costs from using film. It all adds up, even working with people – though I wasn’t paying them directly, I had to take them out to say thank you.
I didn’t have a schedule. I like the feeling of freedom when you just set out to explore instead of having everything planned out. It’s important to be organised, but also never to restrict yourself – as you travel, you learn more and you see more, and it can change your direction. I had to replan my strategy – at the beginning I intended to photograph both architecture and people, but it was too much for two months, so I focused on architecture, which I find very powerful. A lot of documentary photographers concentrate on people, and I wanted to take a different route.

Snow was important because it was a way of connecting people who don’t know much about Lithuania with the project, via the common aesthetic impression of the Soviet Union or Russia as cold and quiet. I also like snow’s minimalism – it takes away all the unnecessary details and leaves you with just your subject.
I think a lot of a photographer’s style develops subconsciously. When I take a photograph, I don’t really think about it – it just happens. My intuition tells me how it has to look. On this trip, I used a Canon 5D Mark II with 28mm and 50mm lenses, and a Hasselblad 501 CM with an 80mm lens. I also used a tripod – essential for architecture shots – and had a couple of flashes for portraits, though I didn’t use them much.
I shot with digital as well as film, partly for safety and partly to save money. If I had to be quick or something prevented me from setting up properly, I'd use digital, plus at places like military bases, in case someone told me I wasn’t allowed. I didn’t ask for permission at all – I just went and photographed, and no-one ever said anything.

There’s definitely a difference between film and digital; even with the amazing lenses available, digital doesn’t always give the results of a film camera. I needed really clean results – I like classical photography and its lines and colours. But I think what makes a good picture is the colour palette, and digital allows you to edit colours how you want – it has more flexibility. Each medium has pros and cons.
My camera gear was really heavy, so other than that I just brought warm clothes and my laptop, which I used for going through my digital images, in case I needed to go back somewhere. I’d return until I got exactly what I needed, and every time I did, I’d photograph it in a totally different way. Once you’re familiar with a place, you get more out of it.
The weather was a challenge. Sometimes we’d climb through waist-deep snow with the cameras; the digital especially was struggling a bit, and I was worried it might stop working. My laptop was also stolen, in my hometown; at the police station a drunk policeman shouted at us, and they kept us there for hours without taking any information. I had to get a new computer, but I was lucky not to lose any shots – I always keep backups, on hard drives.

Afterwards I developed my film, scanned in the hi-res files and edited them digitally before printing them – it’s more flexible this way. I have a pretty standard editing process. I try to keep my photos as natural as possible, correcting the exposure (if it’s off) and colours – it totally changes the mood. Most important to me is correcting distortion – getting everything straight is key to my style, and to creating graphical images. I find Photoshop essential.
For me, selecting images is a lengthy and stressful process, but also quite fun. First I make a big edit just in case, then I make adjustments and play with the layout. I print photos out on A5 paper and arrange them on my desk or the floor, chucking them around and seeing what works best. I narrow them down by marking images with one star, and go through and do this again and again until I have my desired collection. My most important considerations were consistent style, and structure – it can really change how you perceive the project.
The most important thing is to be passionate and concentrate on what you – not other people – want to do. I think it all comes down to this. You get the most out of yourself when your artistic vision is allowed to come out, when you do something with love.
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Main image © Ambra Vernuccio. All other images © Roman Sakovich