On a narrow stretch of land between north-east Moldova and Ukraine lies a country that, according to the United Nations, doesn’t officially exist. Transnistria may have its own passport and currency, but they’re not valid anywhere else.

The region declared its independence from Moldova in 1990, the same year that photographers Anton Polyakov and Anya Galatonova were born there. With a population of less than half a million, the country is still too young to have its own distinct culture.

But as first-generation Transnistrians, Anton and Anya wanted to document the sliver of identity that does belong to them – one that, much like the place itself, often goes unacknowledged.



“The biggest misconception is that Transnistria is some black hole or a museum of Soviet symbols,” says Anton. “Journalists and photographers come here for a hot image, looking for traces of post-conflict trauma or even something akin to North Korea. Often they’ll be disappointed – residents here just live their life in the same typical way – and so they never get beneath the surface.”

To dig a little deeper, Anton and Anya – who work as freelance photographers in the capital, Tiraspol – gravitated to Transnistria’s countryside, where their grandparents spent most of their lives. It’s also where their strongest memories reside: the vast cornfields, rickety tree houses and roaring bonfires of their youth.

The pair travelled all around the republic before settling on Hristovaia, a remote village in the north surrounded by hills and forests.

“People there have the most pronounced connection with the place and it’s harder for them to leave,” says Anya. “Life in these villages is almost never mentioned anywhere and we were curious to know how people live, what they do and what they think about.”