For the past several months, through a series of photographic portraits, I set out to explore the unique and often strange ways people in Russia think and feel about the motherland. I know, from growing up in the former Soviet Union and studying the region’s politics, that Russia is a country of many contradictions.

I made numerous trips across the country, photographing and interviewing more than 130 people, of all ages and social groups, and even a few visitors. I asked each person what made someone a Russian; whether they had done something patriotic; whether love of the motherland and love of the government were the same thing; and whether one could disagree with the government and still be a patriot. Had the person ever considered emigration? What were his or her thoughts on migrants? I approached some people on the street; others, I met through friends. Most seemed happy to take an unexpected break from their routines to have their photos taken and to share their opinions.

The first question made many pause, for I didn’t ask what makes someone “Russkii,” a common term that signifies an ethnic designation. After the fall of the Soviet Union, President Boris N. Yeltsin popularized the use of “Rossiyanin,” a citizen of Russia, to unite the country of many different nationalities. This is the term I used; it is the equivalent of asking what made someone in the United States an American.

Almost everyone displayed a love for the motherland, a notion they felt was very different from one’s government. Motherland, to many, meant land and nature, history and literature. Governments, they said, change. Despite the propaganda, it appeared that for my interviewees patriotism went beyond the current government. My second question, about patriotic acts, was the most difficult for people to answer, as many considered it something done only during war.

Immigration is a controversial topic in the country, but some people I interviewed in the Russian republic of Chechnya said they were glad to see people come. One person said that seeing foreigners in Grozny, the Chechen capital, without armed protection was a sign of peace and normalcy.

Many of the subjects I photographed had never been abroad, or traveled much in their country. In Siberia, in particular, people were taken aback by the question about emigration. They had never thought of leaving; their land gives them the energy to live.