Hannes Jung
How is life?
Death follows life. Always. A fact that unites all and everyone of us. As a young person I expect too die when I’m old, maybe when I’m sick, but definitely not now. So much still lies ahead of me. For the ones who are left behind, suicide always raises the question of life. Why did someone choose death over life?
The suicide rate in Lithuania is nearly three times as high as the average rate in the European Union. It is even among the highest in the world. Looking at the bigger picture, suicides occur more frequently in bigger cities. Whereas in rural areas, less people lose hope in life since social ties are still stronger. In Lithuania, on the contrary, more people commit suicide on the countryside. Especially men between 40 and 50 years of age are at a high risk to commit suicide. Alcoholism, unemployment, no perspective, and many other cases with reasons that are hard to find and even harder to understand.
Edita sits with her husband Darius in their living room. Editas father commited suicide January 2016. Europe. Lithuania, Kaunas, 21st of May 2016. Edita wrote:”I’m sitting exactly where I sat when I got your text and found out that you had killed yourself. This is the place where I sat, trembling and praying that this weren’t true. I am sorry for not being an ideal daughter. I WANT you to know that I love you. I miss you dearly. Sometimes I still call your number and wait for your call on Sundays. Sometimes I curl into a ball and cry in my bed, because I miss you so much. Why did you tell me that you’ll always stand by me? When you are gone, who should I go to? I remember you as I ride my bike – you gave me the freedom to ride it =) THANK YOU. I am happy, but I miss you so much. I no longer have a dad, and I’m angry at you. You left me. I love you and dream of you often. You are my daddy. Farewell. I love you.”
A well in the garde of D. D’s husbind tried to commit suicide in the well. Lithuania, Katiliškiai, 20th of May 2016. D. wrote: “When I saw my husband descending into the well, I got very scared, but I no longer remember what I thought. As I asked him to get out of there, he told me he could no longer do it. With the help of my mother and daughter we pulled him up.”
Volunteers of the helpline “youthline”. Europe. Lithuania, Vilnius, 10th of February 2016. Antanas, a volunteer wrote: “While working for the Youth Line, I keep meditating over the phenomenon of human free will. To what extent is suicide an impulsive, mechanical reaction to suffering, and to what extent is it a person’s choice to give up? Would all people, faced with immense suffering, choose suicide? I don’t know… But I increasingly want to respect the person’s choice, whatever it may be. To stand by them and to respect them.”
Car tracks on a road. Lithuania, near Panevėžys, 10th of May 2016.
Asta sits for a portrait in her bed-livingroom. She grew up under difficult circumstances. She wrote: “I once told my son how I wished to die, so that everything, all fears, would be gone. But my son burst into crying and asked me, “Mom, who will love me, who will need me then?” It was heart-wrenching. Of course, nobody needs you, except for me. After all, whose fault is it in this life, maybe my parents? Since I repeat everything what they did.” Zarasai, 6th of March 2018.
Cupboard in the livingroom of Eugenija. When Eugenija opens one door she could see one picture of her dead son Petras. He commited suicide. She wrote down: “Don’t be alone, we’re all from one and the same world. May no one take their own life voluntarily, because life is a gift.” Panevėžys, 1st of March 2018.
A shelf with alcohol bottles in a small shop in Varena, the district with the highest suicide rate in Lithuania. According to the WHO, Lithuania is one of the countries with the highest levels of alcohol consumption in the world. Lithuania, Varena, 25th of February 2016.
The forest close to Varena. The suicide rate in Varena is the highest in Lithuania. Lithuania, Varena, 26th of February 2016.
A wallpaper with a beautiful landscape in the livingroom of a farmers family. In Lithuania, more people commit suicide on the countryside. Lithuania, near Radeikiai, 29th of January 2016.
Portrait of Donata with her dog Mikutis in bed. Donata has suffered from depression 18 years ago, during and after the divorce from her then-husband. Her dog has been helpful to her to leave the bed every morning in order to go for walks with him, Lithuania, Kupiskis, 30th of January 2016. Donata wrote: “I thank Mikutis for bringing life back to me, and for the immense love he gave us. For sixteen years, we all shared daily life and festive moments, we grew, we lived, we learned. Mikutis is now in the hunting grounds of eternity, and we carry on living. My daughter studies at a university, I work and have her back, as the dog used to have our back at a certain point in time. It never asked questions, it never said anything, it never judged, only cuddled up to me and warmed me until all ‘ice’ melted.”
The reasons for each suicide are different. They are not an expression of personal freedom, but often affected by hopelessness and diseases. Outer, social and environmental factors also play a big role among them. Since World War II and starting with the Soviet occupation the suicide rate for men, at times, grew from ten suicides per 100,000 inhabitants to 90 annually. Experts speak about a collective trauma and loss of identity – influenced among others by forced collectivization of the farms in rural areas through the Soviets. But the reasons for each suicide are always more complex and personal and can not mainly be related to the countries trauma.
Portrait of police officer Vaidas Miliauskas with his award certificate for saving a suicidal person. Europe, Lithuania, Prienai, 18th of May 2016. He wrote: “A suicide person in an ambulance. I once saved a person who tried to take his own life by hanging himself. As we were on the way in an ambulance, together with the medic who oversaw him and his condition, he broke into violent resistance and started cursing us. They tend to have outbreaks of aggression, which would be difficult for the medic alone to subdue. This is why a officer is present at all times to oversee and, if needed, to physically restrain the person and protect not only him, but also medics from even worse outcomes. When I am off duty, resting, these faces appear not only in the form of dreams at night, but also during the day, quite unexpectedly. When these visions appear, I often think how he is doing, how his life goes and if he’s happy. Sometimes I have the luck to see some of these people and inquire if everything is fine and if they are happy.”
A dog in the garden of Janina in the small village of Salamiestis. Janinas family struggles with social problems. Lithuania, Salamiestis, 29th of January 2016.
Wind and snow on the street near Kupiskis, 27th of Feburary 2018.
A farmer plows the field with his horse to plant potatos (the potatos are food for his pigs). Lithuania, near Pagėgiai, 11th of May 2016.
Birute sits in her living room watching TV. She doesn’t have a lot of contact to people – she describes herself as lonely. I got to know her because she’s regulary calling a helpline for older people who are lonely. She wrote: “Demolished houses Grass-overgrown paths I can’t forget them I don’t even know What I’m waiting for”. Kupiskis 27th of February 2018.
Rimante sits in the room of her son Mantas, he committed suicide two years ago. She holds the rabbit Zuika in her hands. She wrote: “When I stay at home alone, I make myself a coffee and walk into Mantukas’s room – this is where I find the best company. I can peacefully sip my coffee and talk to my son about everything, even the things I never dared to discuss while he was alive.” Panevėžys, Lithuania, March 1 2018.
My story “How is Life?” is not just about photography. I worked together with the protagonists and asked them to write down their personal story. These statements (see the captions) are an essential part of this project.
I photograph life not death because death cannot be seen. Maybe you can’t take pictures of the wind. But you could try to catch the consequences of the wind, bending trees and rolling waves.
A ralleycar drives at a selfmade training race course in Varena, the district with the highest suicide rate in Lithuania. Lithuania, Varena, 20th of February 2016. Gintautas, the founder of the local car/youthclub wrote: “My favorite colors are black and white, so I dive head down, passionately, into all activities I engage in. I strive to help children under my guidance to learn to recognize and be guided by the roadsigns of life as soon as possible.”
Portrait of Teresa dancing in her kitchen. Teresas husband commited suicide 19 yeas ago. Lithuania, Varena, 21st of February 2016. Teresa wrote: “When I’m sad, I sing, play and listen to music, I relax with a good mood, I dance, I love jokes. I try to smile at all times.”
Hill of Crosses, a site of pilgrimage. Near Šiauliai, 23rd of February 2018.
Trees on the road near Kupiskis. 26th of January 2016, near Kupiskis, Lithuania.
Vitalja with her two daughters. She wrote: “I tried to scare my husband by attempting to kill myself – he couldn’t care less. I only scared my children. I think you can’t change anything by suicide, you will only hurt and damage the ones you love, who are closest to you.” Joniskis, 28th of February 2018.
Short Bio
Hannes Jung (b. 1986) is a freelance documentary photographer currently based in Berlin. He studied photography and photojournalism in Munich, Hannover and Valencia and attended the Eddie Adams Workshop. Hannes is represented by Laif photo agency.
His work was recognized with Gold in the categories Documentary and Interpretative eye by the College Photographer of the Year award (CPOY) and he recieved several prizes like the n-ost Reportage prize, Prix Mark Grosset, South Tyrol Media award or Canon Profifoto promotion award. His work was supported with several research grants from n-ost, the Robert-Bosch-Foundation and VG Bildkunst. Hannes work was shown in several exhibitions and festivals around Europe.
Related Links
hannesjung.com
I like your essay, and it hits me right into the stomach.
Because I am thinking of our fellow burnian David Bowen, who finished his own life, just a few weeks ago.
What? David Bowen? So sad.
Thomas, I don’t follow Burn everyday the way I used to, but I continue to drop in and catch up from where I left off. I’m sorry to find such news.
This is a powerful piece of work. I would feel this way even if I had not read the above about David Bowen. The news does bring it home all the deeper.