About
Some people find their place on a map. I found mine somewhere between an island and the open sea.
My name is Andriy Petryna. I’m a photographer based in Madeira, Portugal — a Ukrainian who arrived on this volcanic island in the Atlantic over ten years ago and never quite left. Madeira has a way of doing that.
When I’m not behind a camera, I’m drawn to the water. I recently earned my sailing captain’s license, and the sea has become something more than a backdrop for my work — it’s a direction. The rhythm I’m chasing is a simple one: islands, ocean, wherever the wind allows. The Atlantic archipelagos first, then, one day, the Pacific.
It’s the same instinct that’s always driven me — toward the edge of what’s familiar, toward light that hasn’t been photographed a thousand times before.
My story with photography didn’t begin with a conscious choice — it began at the age of two, when my father placed a camera in my hands.
He was an amateur photographer, deeply in love with the craft, and that heavy Soviet FED-3 became my first window into a different way of seeing the world. By the time I was seven, I was making frames I’m still not embarrassed by.
School brought a photography class where I learned composition, light, and the difference between a studio and the world outside. I always preferred the world outside. Natural light, open air, the unpredictability of what the day offers — that felt like the real thing.
As a child, I dreamed of space. Distant expeditions, infinite universes, the question of what’s out there. That curiosity found its way into my camera when I discovered astrophotography — the Milky Way, constellations, nebulae captured in a single long exposure. Film demanded precision in complete darkness, the patience to calculate and wait. Digital changed everything: shoot, review, adjust, shoot again.
When I moved to Madeira in 2015, the islands gave me dark skies, volcanic peaks, and ancient laurel trees in Fanal as backdrops. I began teaching others — workshops and photo tours for those who wanted to learn astrophotography in a short time, in a remarkable place.
Then a friend asked for a few portraits for her modelling portfolio. One session opened an entirely new chapter.
I once watched a documentary about Jiro Ono, the sushi master who started at seven and, at one hundred years old, still says he hasn’t achieved perfection. When asked how he became the best in the world, his answer was simple: every day, I try to make my sushi a little bit better than yesterday.
That film changed how I think about my work. I haven’t stopped since.