Interviews med Maja Zińczuk

I've been involved in artistic endeavors for 15 years. First, I completed my studies, and then I carved my path in the artistic profession. On a daily basis, I work at an art gallery and record videos for artists who exhibit with us. Sometimes, I also arrange the exhibition spaces.

At the beginning, I took photos and made films, but since I started working at the art gallery, I also handle the arrangement of exhibition spaces. Artists often ask for my opinion on this matter.

I take advantage of digital conveniences, but I am a rather analog person. I create the scripts for my projects by hand.I strive to maintain my own style; when it comes to photography, these are mostly black-and-white photos.I always strive to have a key theme or guiding idea for the project. That's where I start the creation process.

It's nice to have a guiding idea for a project, but sometimes it's worth stepping off the beaten path, doing something by accident, and seeing where the project leads.I feel, of course, fantastic during the design process.

I feel absolutely fantastic, it's indescribable.

The most important thing for me is consistency, bringing the project to completion.

I might like to learn the art of creating immersive exhibitions, combining museum exhibits with sound and visuals.

Never give up, believe in your abilities, seek yourself.

The main principle behind my design is storytelling through visual artistry. As a cinematographer and photographer, I focus on capturing emotion, atmosphere, and narrative in every frame. The idea is to blend technical precision with creative intuition, crafting images that not only look beautiful but also evoke a deeper connection with the audience.

My inspiration comes from the interplay of light and shadow, human expressions, and the world around me—moments that might seem ordinary but hold powerful stories. Whether it's through dynamic compositions or subtle details, I aim to create visuals that resonate and linger in the viewer’s mind, much like scenes from a memorable film or photograph.

My main focus in designing this work was to capture raw, authentic moments that reflect the human experience during the COVID-19 pandemic. By using black and white photography, I aimed to strip away distractions and highlight the emotions, resilience, and vulnerability of people in their natural environments.

I wanted to achieve a sense of intimacy and connection—portraying the quiet, often overlooked moments that defined daily life during such an uncertain time. The absence of color emphasizes the contrasts and textures of these experiences, drawing attention to expressions, gestures, and the atmosphere of isolation or togetherness. Ultimately, the goal was to preserve a visual record of this period, inviting viewers to reflect and empathize with the shared but individual impact of the pandemic.

I’m still considering the future plans for this award-winning design. At the moment, I’m exploring different possibilities, such as expanding the project into a larger series, creating an exhibition, or publishing a photo book. I want to ensure that the work continues to resonate with people and perhaps even spark conversations about the shared experiences during the pandemic.

For now, I’m open to new opportunities and collaborations that could help bring this project to a wider audience.

The concept for this project developed organically during the pandemic and was created spontaneously in response to the events unfolding at the time. There wasn’t a set timeline – it evolved naturally as I captured moments that felt significant.

The process was driven by the need to document and reflect on what was happening around me, so the design grew over the course of the pandemic, shaped by the experiences and emotions of the moment.

This project was not commissioned – I decided to pursue it out of personal inspiration. The concept came from a desire to capture the unique and often overlooked moments of daily life during the pandemic.

I felt a need to document the emotions and experiences of people in their natural environments, reflecting the reality of that time. It was a spontaneous and organic process, driven by a passion for storytelling through photography.

I plan to sell these photographs. At the moment, the work is not being produced or used by another company, but I’m open to opportunities for collaboration or licensing.

My goal is to find the right platform or buyer that aligns with the vision and message of the project, ensuring that the images reach a wider audience while preserving their emotional and artistic value.

I was inspired to create this work by the desire to capture the raw, unfiltered moments of daily life during the pandemic, especially those of the people around me – my friends, my community, and my son. The uncertainty, isolation, and quiet strength I witnessed in them felt important to document.

Photography became a way to preserve these emotions and experiences, offering a visual reflection of that period. I chose black and white to emphasize the mood and timelessness of the subject matter, stripping away distractions to focus on the people and their stories. This project was driven by personal inspiration and a need to process and share the human side of such a challenging time.

There weren’t specific designers or designs that directly influenced the work, inspiration came from classic black and white photography, documentary photographers, and artists who focus on capturing raw human emotion and everyday life. Photographers like Dorothea Lange, Henri Cartier-Bresson, or Sally Mann, whose ability to tell powerful stories through simple yet striking imagery may have shaped my approach.

The target audience for this design is individuals and organizations interested in powerful, emotional storytelling through photography. This includes art collectors, galleries, and photography enthusiasts.It also appeals to those involved in social issues, mental health awareness, and those interested in the human side of historical events like the pandemic.Additionally, the project could resonate with individuals looking for meaningful art that reflects resilience, connection, and the shared experience of a global crisis.

What sets this design apart is its raw, intimate portrayal of everyday life during the pandemic, capturing not only the challenges but also the quiet moments of resilience and humanity. Unlike many other works that focus on the broader impact of the pandemic, this project highlights personal, natural situations—moments with people I know, including friends. This creates a more personal and relatable connection, allowing viewers to see themselves in the images and reflect on their own experiences during such a unique and uncertain time.

In photography, the term "penumbra" refers to the partial shadow between light and darkness, symbolizing the emotional and psychological states people experienced during this time—caught between hope and fear, connection and isolation.

The title also reflects the idea of being in the "in-between," where life was neither fully normal nor fully defined by the crisis. It speaks to the nuanced, often overlooked moments in the lives of individuals during such a profound period, and the sense of ambiguity that many felt in the midst of global uncertainty.

For this project, I used exclusively a Nikon D800 camera. The black and white settings were configured directly within the camera, allowing me to capture the images with the desired contrast and mood from the start.

This personal approach, combined with the stark simplicity of the images, creates connection with viewers, making the work not just a record of the pandemic, but a universal reflection on human experience during times of crisis.

For this design, I did not collaborate with anyone who had technical or specialized skills. The project was a personal endeavor, and I worked independently, using my own experience and creative vision to capture the images. The process involved no external collaboration, allowing me to fully express my ideas and approach to the subject matter.

In this particular design, technology plays a key role in capturing and enhancing the visual storytelling. The Nikon D800 camera allowed me to precisely control the settings, especially for the black and white imagery, ensuring the desired mood and contrast were achieved directly in-camera.

While the focus was on capturing authentic, natural moments, the technology behind the camera was essential in bringing my creative vision to life. The use of digital tools also allowed for a high level of precision in documenting the emotions and details of the subjects, making it possible to produce high-quality, impactful images without the need for extensive post-processing.

My design is not directly influenced by data or analytical research. Instead, it was driven by personal experience and observation of the world around me.However, in a broader sense, I did conduct research in terms of understanding the psychological and emotional impact of the pandemic on individuals. I observed how people were coping, the isolation they experienced, and the resilience they showed, which informed my approach to the project. The research was more intuitive and observational, grounded in human connection and shared experiences, rather than data-driven.

Additionally, photographing people in intimate, natural situations meant dealing with the vulnerability of the subjects. It required creating a sense of trust and comfort, especially during a time when people were already experiencing a lot of emotional strain. Balancing the technical and emotional aspects of the work while remaining sensitive to the subjects was a delicate process.

Submitting to an international competition allowed me to challenge myself and receive feedback from a broader, more diverse group of professionals, which could further inform my growth as a photographer and artist.

Technically, I refined my skills in working with black and white photography, learning to play with light, contrast, and shadows to evoke emotion without relying on color. This project also taught me how to embrace spontaneity and intuition in my work, rather than overthinking the process.

Ultimately, I grew as a storyteller, realizing how much emotion and depth can be captured through simple, natural moments, and how powerful visual storytelling can be in conveying complex human experiences.

I would like to emphasize how this project is not just about documenting a period of crisis, but about celebrating human resilience, connection, and the quiet strength that emerged from such challenging circumstances. The work is a reminder of the importance of empathy and understanding, and how shared experiences can bring us closer together, even in the most difficult times.

I graduated from film school, but there was also a design profile like architects, graphic designers and others.

At first I didn't think about being a designer, but over time it came to me :)

I think it will be photography and filmmaking.

Be yourself, you will find your own style.

I pay attention to the details of the project, I have to complete it to the end.

Good design is a sign of good taste, artistic expression and knowledge.

My dream is to design multimedia exhibitions.

An immersive exhibition in a very atmospheric place.

Many factors determine the success of projects. These are also the people who help with the project.

Good design creates a psychologically good workplace, environment, home and so on. It affects our well-being

It depends on the type of project, how long it is, what needs to be done, the type of task and the cost.

Technology is certainly useful, good work flow helps to improve work.

I use Sony camera Fs5, some good Sony lenses. Software like Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Premiere.

In my profession, colors, light and surroundings are of key importance. Everything must be thought out and prepared in advance. This is the role of photography and film.

To ask what the idea was behind the project. But it would be best if it could be noticed earlier.

How much intricate and good work was put into it.

Every day I cooperate with various artists from various industries. These are the preparations for the exhibitions we hold in our art gallery.

People who can spread good energy and optimism. Those who go beyond the beaten path.

This may come as a surprise, but books about film set design.

It has undoubtedly been a long road. At the beginning there were studies, then slowly getting into work. Thousands of photos taken for free.

These will be definitely optimistic people with good energy to work and with knowledge and faith in what they do.

It's definitely a great feeling :)

My favourite color is red, I like places near lakes, my favourite food is pad thai and I like Spring the most.

Every day I try to think well about my projects, I don't get discouraged.

I think it's my passion for cool places, paying attention to details and the surroundings.

I don't know, but I want everything to be fine.

I’m not always want to be a designer. But I studied in school where there was a lot of great designers like architecture, graphics, furniture designers and so on. Atmosphere of this school inspired me to looked close on that field.

Right now I don’t have any specific brand or company. I work as photographer and filmmaker in gallery of art in my city and sometimes as a freelancer.

I associate design with good quality, with transparency and with the thing I like most - a thought, an idea, a surprise expressed in the form of one thought.

Photography, nature oriented films and social advertising.

Interior of the Polin Museum in Warsaw (Poland).Why? Everyone should visit this place and see for themselves :)

Every day I work in gallery of art in Poland. Me and my colleagues prepare exhibitions for artists. From promotion to interior design.

Usually I work with digital images and postproduction.

It comes to my on different times of days but I feel most creative when I listened to good music.

I try to think of as many aspects I can.

I think when I make the final touches.

When I work with creative things, I feel absolutely fantastic.

A very well-thought-out idea and finishing of the project.

Has my concept been implemented? Is there any sense or deeper thought in all this?

To include social or ecological thought in all this. Design must serve society.

Emphasis on the ecological aspects of what we do.

My last exhibition was in Poland, in the place where I work now, i.e. in the Gallery of Sleńdziński family in Białystok. The exhibition took place in 2018, and I would like to have the next one maybe even in New York.

Good photos and films, music and reading books. Sometimes playing sports or dancing. Everything can be an inspiration.

I try to photograph/film in my own style. I want to give as much of myself as possible in this.

I live in a fairly small town in eastern Poland. Local folk culture, with its traditions, holidays and music, is very important to me. I don't live in the capital of the country, I'm far from big advertising agencies and that's a minus, but I have to be more creative and that's a plus.

For now, I don't cooperate with companies.

They should pick out unique people.

My process is similar to the one in which I create all things. Focus and a good idea are useful.

I try to have functional things at home, but also things that will give the apartment charm and coziness.

I start the day with good coffee. Then I prepare my son for school. Then I can start working ;)

Don't stop pursuing your goal, don't give up. Believe in your abilities.

As in any profession, there are positives and negatives, but they are probably different for everyone. It is difficult to answer this question.

I will probably repeat this very often, but it is an element of surprise in a well-thought-out strategy.

Getting the point out of complicated things :)

I use Adobe Photoshop and Lightroom to edit photos and Adobe Premiere to edit videos. I am inspired by websites and podcasts about cinematographers, as well as interviews and books about photographers and designers.

You need to be very well organized in life and in your work. This is the key to success ;)

It depends on the project in question, what it is, how long the project takes and how complex it is.

I get a lot of questions about various things, and I always try to answer them factually.

It was when I worked in television as a camera operator.

First of all, these are artists who exhibit their works in our Art Gallery.

I like working with photography and film the most.

I would like to take part in a master cinematographer training.

I usually work in a team.

We are preparing to arrange an exhibition that is very important for our Gallery, from interior design to the marketing side.

By e-mail: majazinczuk3@gmail.com and phone number 693400389

I think I've already answered all of questions. Thank you :)!

The philosophical foundation of Liminalis Photography was that the landscape shouldn’t be forced but listened to. The Biebrza Valley isn't a passive subject; it is a living, unstable, fragile environment shaped by water, mist, wind, light, silence, and seasonal change. I wanted the photographs to remain as close as possible to the experience of being there.Working without creative digital manipulation was a way of accepting the landscape on its own terms. It required humility. I didn’t correct the image to make it more spectacular or more pleasing. I had to wait and observe. The images became less about control and more about trust — trust in natural light, in the moment and in the emotional truth of the place itself.

I believe photography can create a different kind of ecological awareness because it works through emotion before it is explained. Scientific reports are essential, but they often speak through data, distance, and urgency. Photography can create a more intimate form of attention. It can make the viewer pause, look longer, and sense that the landscape is not an abstract ecological problem, but a living space with its own rhythm and sensitivity.In "Liminalis Photography," I didn't want to show the Biebrza Valley merely as a beautiful natural area. I wanted to suggest its fragility, silence, and dependence on constantly changing conditions —with the feeling that something irreplaceable may be lost.

Working without digital post-processing required precise exposure measurement. I couldn't rely on subsequent adjustments to the mood of the image. I had to discern the light, framing, mood, and emotional tone immediately in the field. This forced me to shoot slower and more focused.In the Biebrza Valley, conditions change constantly. Fog moves, water reflects light differently from minute to minute, and the same place can become open, closed, bright, or almost invisible depending on the weather. This taught me that composition isn't just a formal arrangement of elements within the frame. It's also a way of responding to the passage of time. I had to decide when the landscape had revealed enough and when further intervention would weaken the truth of the image. This process taught me to accept limitations as part of the work. Composing and engaging with an image meant accepting that one true, unique moment can carry more meaning than a perfectly controlled image created later.

My experience in film and television production had a strong influence on Liminalis Photography. In film, a frame is never just an image. It's also about rhythm, duration, atmosphere, and anticipation.These principles naturally influenced the series. Natural light became not only a technical requirement but also a narrative element. My filmmaking experience helped me understand that stillness can contain movement, and a still frame can suggest the passage of time. In Liminalis Photography, the photographic image is static, but its inner logic is cinematic.

Receiving the Iron A' Design Award for Liminalis Photography was particularly significant because the project was based on restraint rather than digital intervention. In a category where post-production and photo manipulation are often associated with technical excellence, this distinction suggests that the jury addressed a different kind of photographic discipline: observation, patience, sensitivity to natural light, and conceptual coherence.Working without digital manipulation doesn't mean an image is simple, random, or unfinished. Decisions are made before and during exposure: where to stand, when to wait, how to interpret light, when to accept an image and when to let it go. I see this recognition as a sign that contemporary design and photography still value silence, honesty, and responsibility. In a culture saturated with enhanced images and AI, authenticity can become a powerful visual language.

One of the most pivotal moments in the outdoor session occurred when the landscape seemed to lose its distinct boundaries. The fog softened the horizon, and the valley hovered almost between visibility and disappearance. At that moment, I felt that the Biebrza Valley shouldn't be photographed solely as a recognizable location. It should also be photographed as a state of transition.This experience changed the emotional direction of the series. I became less interested in creating descriptive landscape images and more interested in capturing an atmosphere of uncertainty. The valley revealed itself not through dramatic events but through subtle shifts: the density of the air, the disappearance of distance, the way silence altered the perception of space. This made me realize that the power of the project should stem from impermanence. The series became a story about the fragile boundaries—between land and water, presence and absence, documentation and memory. This field experience gave the project its title and emotional core: the idea of ​​liminality, of being between states.

I see Liminalis Photography as a project that can evolve, because the Biebrza Valley itself is not static. It is shaped by the seasons, water levels, weather conditions, human decisions, and ecological changes. The series was created within my own professional practice under the Maya Zet brand, but I believe it has the potential to become a long-term visual archive of this sensitive landscape.In the future, I would like the project to evolve through exhibitions, publications,films, artist books, and further fieldwork. I am particularly keen to present the works as sequences, rather than just individual photographs, as the rhythm of viewing is crucial to the experience. The project could also return to the same areas over time, creating a silent record of environmental changes that may not be immediately apparent in a single image. I would like Liminalis Photography to remain both poetic and documentary. It is an artistic statement, but also a form of memory—a way of preserving the emotional atmosphere of a place whose future cannot be taken for granted.

Working in a protected wetland taught me that a photographer's first duty is not to achieve the most powerful image at all costs, but to respect the place being photographed. In the Biebrza Valley, the subject isn't just the landscape. It's a living ecosystem composed of birds, water, plants, silence, nesting sites, and delicate relationships that can easily be disrupted by human presence. Because this subject can't speak for itself, the ethical responsibility becomes even greater.These constraints shaped my entire method. I worked in silence, carefully, and with respect for nature. I agreed that some images shouldn't be taken if their creation would require interference with nature. This taught me that restraint isn't a weakness in photography; it can be one of its most important values. A fragile ecosystem shouldn't be treated as a stage for the photographer's ambitions. An image should never become more important than the living environment it represents. In retrospect, I feel that the ethical dimension of my work has become part of its visual language.

The sequence in Liminalis Photography was essential because I didn't want the project to function as a simple portfolio of individual images. I wanted the viewer to experience the series as a slow progression through the atmosphere of the Biebrza Valley. Because I didn't use post-production tools to create artificial drama or direct attention, the rhythm had to emerge from the images themselves: from shifts in light, density, distance, reflection, and mood.I approached the sequence in a manner close to film editing. Some images open up space, others preserve silence, and still others very subtly shift emotional tone. I sought transitions that felt organic, not decorative. The sequence of images had to preserve the experience of being in the field: waiting, observing, noticing subtle changes. In this sense, the sequence became another form of composition. The viewer isn't pushed to a single conclusion, but invited to move within the atmosphere.

The most important lesson I'd like to teach is not to dominate the landscape, but to stay with it long enough for it to change our perception. Some places resist easy capture, and this resistance must be respected. Landscape is not just a view. It's time, weather, memory, ecology, and a set of relationships that may not immediately emerge. A beginning photographer should learn to wait, return, and accept that the most powerful image may not be the most spectacular.Liminalis Photography taught me that restraint can amplify impact. When working with nature, the goal should be not only to create beautiful images but also to build a responsible relationship with the place. This means respecting ecological boundaries, accepting uncertainty, and allowing for silence or subtlety. I believe that environmental photography begins with attention. How we look at nature influences how we value it. If a photographer approaches the landscape with humility, patience, and care, the final result can become more than just a representation. It can become a form of listening.

With access to studios and artificial lighting cut off, I was forced to work solely with available light—window light, reflections off white walls. his constraint honed my sensitivity to the subtleties of light—its temperature, direction, and how it interacts with texture and form. I learned to wait for light, rather than manufacture it.Limited gear and unpredictable conditions led to embracing imperfections.

That’s a beautiful comparison—Caravaggio’s chiaroscuro has always fascinated me, not just for its visual intensity, but for how it channels emotional and psychological depth. In Penumbra Photography, the goal wasn’t to replicate that drama for aesthetic effect alone, but to translate it into a visual language that could honor the quiet complexities of contemporary, often interior, lives.Chiaroscuro isn't just about light—it’s about the tension between what is revealed and what remains hidden. That’s especially powerful in capturing the internal landscapes of people during isolation. The shadowed spaces became metaphors for grief, waiting, contemplation, or memory. Subjects weren't posed dramatically, but rather caught in moments of natural stillness, allowing shadows to speak to their inner states without overstating them.

Everything begins with observation. A bowl of water isn’t just a vessel—it’s a mirror, a lens, a surface for light to dance on. Using household items wasn’t a gimmick—it was an ethos. By limiting my toolkit, I pushed deeper into visual problem-solving. Each object became a collaborator in storytelling, not just a prop.

I drew inspiration from masters like Dorothea Lange, Roy DeCarava, and Josef Koudelka—artists who used black and white not just for aesthetics, but as a way of bearing witness to human experience. Their work reminded me that monochrome can be more intimate, more piercing, more honest. Converting to black and white wasn’t about nostalgia or style—it was about emotional compression, like turning down the volume of the world so you could hear someone’s heartbeat. It made every line on a face, every shaft of light, every pause in a gesture count. And that intimacy is what Penumbra is ultimately about.

Rather than resisting the limitations of domestic space—tight rooms, clutter, poor lighting—I treated them as invitations to look closer and go deeper. Forced me to move slowly and observe more closely.Encouraged improvisation. Creating profound visual stories in confined spaces required deep attention, not wide access. It meant trusting that the most resonant images weren’t out in the world—they were already right here. The domestic space became not a limitation, but a lens through which intimacy, vulnerability, and beauty were revealed.

he pandemic taught me that physical presence isn't the only route to intimacy. By offering time, empathy, and space—both literally and emotionally—I created a container where people could be seen without being watched. The light revealed form, but the shadow revealed feeling. Together, they mapped the unseen contours of each subject’s inner world.

Architecture gave me the bones of the image. Window light gave me its soul. Together, they allowed each portrait to feel not just seen, but situated—in a space, in a time, and in a deeply personal emotional context.That’s a wonderful insight—architecture and window light were silent co-authors of Penumbra Photography. Because I was working within confined, often very ordinary domestic spaces, I had to train my eye to see structure and light not just as background, but as narrative tools.

I treated Penumbra Photography as both a time capsule and a mirror—reflecting life in isolation, but also inviting viewers to see themselves, their own moments of stillness and strength. By prioritizing emotional truth over literal depiction, and poetic form over journalistic detail, the work was able to document an era while transcending it.Every portrait was based on real conversation—about what the subject was going through, where they found comfort, what felt heavy. I didn’t impose a narrative of suffering or hope. I let their emotional truth guide the image. That honesty, rooted in the moment, gave the work both documentary integrity and timeless relevance.

In Penumbra Photography, light wasn’t a tool—it was a character. And like any great character, it required listening, respect, and timing. By slowing down, observing carefully, and letting the environment lead, I was able to create images where the light didn’t just illuminate—it spoke.

Perhaps most importantly, Penumbra offers a model for photographers working in resource-limited environments—not just during a pandemic, but in marginalized, remote, or underserved settings. It says:“You can still make powerful work. Your limitations can be your signature.”