“But it’s not just one story of misery,” he tells TVP World. “The media, of course, focuses on the big attacks, but I’m trying to show something different and present Ukraine from a different perspective—I look for stories, for characters.

“It’s not always just about destruction, because amid all that there are also moments of happiness and normality.”

It is this ability to draw viewers into an otherwise unseen world that enriches his photographs with added layers of complexity.

“I’m looking for emotion,” says Grzędziński. “For me, a good picture is not just defined by its framing or the moment itself; it should show the emotion of the protagonist—it should make you feel how the character feels. Feelings are the key to my photography.”

That Grzędziński succeeds in capturing these emotions is evidenced by the multiple accolades and awards that have followed.

Winning three consecutive Grand Press Photo prizes, his 2022 entry is a melancholic exploration of human resilience.

Depicting a young woman sitting at a piano inside a bombed-out living room, the poignancy of the scene is offset by the sense of defiance that oozes from the image.

More recently, his winning 2024 photograph presents the fearful face of a woman trapped underneath piles of rubble following the bombing of a pizzeria in Kramatorsk. “She survived,” says Grzędziński, “thirteen others were not so lucky.”

For Grzędziński, documenting such moments of intense distress is a regular occurrence, not without ethical conundrums.

“It goes without saying, if no one else is around, then the first thing I would do is put the camera away and help someone,” he says, “but I’m not a fully trained medic, nor do I have a Red Cross on my back.

“When there’s a situation where there are better people to help someone, then I need to remember that it is my job to document what is happening, because otherwise no one else will—through my pictures, I can raise awareness of what is really going on.

“For me, it’s not taking the picture that poses the ethical question, but publishing it; you need to be aware of the influence it can have.”

Yet it is this desire to make an impact that serves as Grzędziński’s motivation. “Covering conflicts is just a small part of my photographic activity,” he says. “But maybe it’s more important than others, though, because a lot of journalists won’t enter a war zone—yet if we don’t, then these stories stand to be forgotten or untold.”

Now in his mid-40s, Grzędziński has amassed a wealth of experience since covering his first conflict in Lebanon in 2006. Iraq, Afghanistan, Georgia, South Sudan and a roll call of others have followed.

“I’ve learned that war brings out the very best or the very worst in people,” he says. “There is nothing in between. In war, you don’t have any masks; they just drop off, and in such extreme situations it becomes easier to understand just who is good and who is bad.”

As much as other conflicts have left their mark, it is the war in Ukraine that stands closest to his heart.

“We have a war right on our border, and the repercussions of losing it will change our lives for decades,” he says.

“Moreover, as a Pole, I understand Ukrainians—although we are not the same, we have a similar background and mentality. We know what Russia is, and that’s something that ‘westerners’ find hard to comprehend.”

The cruelties that Grzędziński has witnessed first-hand are presented via traumatic photographs that show body bags heaped high, grieving civilians, limbless veterans and shell-shocked soldiers.

“This isn’t my first war,” he says matter-of-factly. “I know the consequences, and I know how to deal with them.”

Yet if he is guarded about the direct impact war has had on his psyche, he is less so on the subject of fear. “Of course I get scared,” he says, “and if I didn’t, I’d probably be dead already—fear makes you more aware of the dangers, and fear also focuses you so you can shoot more pictures.

“It’s not a matter of being scared but knowing how to handle those feelings in the right way.”

While he has no hard and fast rules to mitigate the risk factor, Grzędziński says common sense and good fortune are vital in his field.

“You need to be really aware of the situation you’re entering and you need to be flexible,” he says. “Be prepared and think three times before doing something.

“Clearly, that doesn’t guarantee you’re going to be ok, so in that regard there’s a matter of luck involved.”

Currently recovering from a broken hand, Grzędziński aims to return to Ukraine in the coming weeks but remains uncertain of what might await.

“I can’t begin to speculate,” he says. “There are so many factors we aren’t aware of, such as the political moves taking place behind closed doors, so what is clear is that the situation is going to dramatically and rapidly change in the next two or three months.”

He continues: “I have no idea what might happen, but my biggest fear is that it’s not going to favor Ukraine. In my opinion, I don’t think Poland, or the rest of Europe, can imagine what this might mean, but of course there is hope—if there wasn’t, there would be no fight.”