Demonstrators take part in a mass anti-Putin rally on December, 24, 2011 in Moscow, Russia. Tens of thousands of demonstrators rallied in cities across Russia to protest alleged vote fraud in recent parliamentary elections and to express their discontent with Prime Minister Vladimir Putin, leader of the dominant United Russia party. (Photo by Alexander Aleshkin/Epsilon/Getty Images)

Photo by: Rustem Adagamov; Source: LiveJournal

This undated handout picture made available on February 3, 2016 and provided by Russia's punk band Рussy Riot shows Рussy Riot frontwoman Nadezhda Tolokonnikova performing in the band's new music video titled “Chaika” in Moscow. Russian punk band Рussy Riot, which became a symbol of resistance for a church performance slamming President Vladimir Putin, released a new protest song on February 3 mocking a senior official for alleged corruption. Titled “Chaika”, the satirical song and accompanying video take aim at prosecutor general Yury Chaika, whose two sons have been accused of using their father's position to accrue large fortunes. (Photo by Andrey Noskov/AFP Photo/Russian Punk Band Рussy Riot)

While communism, collectivism, worms, dry rot and casual looting failed to destroy the majestic wooden churches of Russia, it may be ordinary neglect that finally does them in. Dwindled now to several hundred remaining examples, these glories of vernacular architecture lie scattered amid the vastness of the world’s largest country. Just over a decade ago, Richard Davies, a British architectural photographer, struck out on a mission to record the fragile and poetic structures. Austerely beautiful and haunting, “Wooden Churches: Traveling in the Russian North” (White Sea Publishing; $132) is the result. Covering thousands of miles, Mr. Davies described how he and the writer Matilda Moreton tracked down the survivors from among the thousands of onion-domed structures built after Prince Vladimir converted to Christianity in 988.

“Exactly one year before the long awaited Sochi Olympics, Vladimir Putin went to Sochi personally to see how the construction is going. After receiving a report saying the ski jumps that were supposed to be ready in 2011, are not completed still, while their price has sky-rocketed from 1.2 billion to 8 billion roubles, he commented, “Good for you. Good job”, and then fired the vice president of the Olympic committee. Russian artist Vasily Slonov painted his view of the upcoming games, giving a new interpretation to the adored Russian mascot Cheburashka, and combining officially endorsed stereotypes of Russia with grimmer and less accepted ones”. – Ruskie.info. (Photo by Vasily Slonov)

Ukrainian Serviceman Oleksii Hodzenko, aka Godzilla, was a civilian journalist. His father, Sergeant chief Dmytro "Godzilla" Godzenko was killed on March 31, 2016 at 6 a.m. in a mortar attack near the village of Zaitsevo near Horlivka in the Donetsk region. Since then Godzilla "junior" has joined the army, at a frontline position held by Ukraine's 503rd Detached Marine Battalion on February 7, 2022 near Verkhnotoretske, Ukraine. Regional tensions remain high as Russia continues to amass soldiers and military equipment along its border with Ukraine, where large swaths of the Luhansk and Donetsk regions are held by Russian-backed separatists. Russia has also moved roughly 30,000 troops into Belarus, which borders Ukraine to the north. American and European officials say they do not whether Russian President Vladimir Putin has made a decision to invade Ukraine, but have issued a series of warnings about the country's assertive military posture. (Photo by Gaelle Girbes/Getty Images)

Rebelling against political propaganda, acclaimed photographer Antanas Sutkus embarked on a life-long journey to capture the everyday scenes around him. Antanas Sutkus, born in 1939, studied journalism at Vilnius University in the late 1950s before becoming disillusioned by the confines of the Soviet-controlled press. He began taking photographs instead, and soon co-founded the Lithuanian Association of Art Photographers. Here: The first Lithuanian bikers, 1974. (Photo by Antanas Sutkus)

While communism, collectivism, worms, dry rot and casual looting failed to destroy the majestic wooden churches of Russia, it may be ordinary neglect that finally does them in. Dwindled now to several hundred remaining examples, these glories of vernacular architecture lie scattered amid the vastness of the world’s largest country. Just over a decade ago, Richard Davies, a British architectural photographer, struck out on a mission to record the fragile and poetic structures. Austerely beautiful and haunting, “Wooden Churches: Traveling in the Russian North” (White Sea Publishing; $132) is the result. Covering thousands of miles, Mr. Davies described how he and the writer Matilda Moreton tracked down the survivors from among the thousands of onion-domed structures built after Prince Vladimir converted to Christianity in 988.