Kristina Shakht
Kristina Shakht holds many things in tension: the light and the dark, the romantic and the realist, escapism and memory. There is further tension, too, that of photographing women, offering them an alternative reality to escape the one we live in.
Kristina is a photographer, visual artist and, perhaps without knowing it, a breath of fresh air.
Identity, intimacy and the nuanced nature of human relationships are what makes Kristina’s work feel equal parts personal and political. Much of her art addresses the ways women are perceived, challenging traditional and often sexualised portrayals by emphasising the body as a natural, liberated form. Emotion is tangible within her images, which, through their vulnerability, subvert the notion that women’s place in art is as the ‘muse’.
One of the defining elements of Shakht’s work is her exploration of the body as both a subject and an object of meaning. She documents real bodies, real women, emphasising imperfections and thus challenging the beauty standards we inherently hold ourselves to.
Kristina’s alternative reality is one in which women can just be. I got a glimpse of it, even began to imagine myself within it, just by speaking with her.
Smiling through pink-tinged sunglasses, Kristina sips orange juice which she shakes and drinks from the carton. Instantly, she presents herself as equal parts humble and assured. Our easy exchange of hellos, chattering above the roar and rumble of New York traffic below her apartment. It’s the week before the American election, and the big two genders are said to be at war. There’s no question as to which side Kristina is on.
My first question: “How did your love for photography begin?”
The New York based artist was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. A country which has a complex, (to say the least), relationship with gender roles. “Russia is.......”, she contemplates, looking down at her orange juice before meeting my gaze. “Traumatising in so many ways. I guess that art was one of the ways to escape that.”
“The male gaze there.......” her voice drifts off and I watch as she shifts in her seat. A sigh, followed by a sad smile. Kristina speaks explicitly of how, from the age of eight, she was sexualised. Watched, stared at, followed. Russia’s male gaze reflects its broader societal attitudes toward gender, power, and sexuality. Kristina’s experience living in this society, one that views women as objects of desire, vulnerability, or subjugation is one that she recognises is not unique to her. What made her experience different was her perspective.
She’d left Russia and thus built the backbone she needed to know that the way she’d been treated as a woman was wrong.
This backbone carries the core of Kristina’s work, and resulted in her being “hated, bullied by men” in her home city for not complying to their expectation of what she should be as a woman. Kristina’s outspokenness as a teen resulted in police involvement for “being too political” in school. As an adult, she can’t go back without facing a fifteen-year sentence- a consequence of shooting anti-war protests.
Kristina has worked for magazines including iD, AnOther and Elle. Through her soft yet quietly commanding style of portraiture, Shakht seeks to honour the natural beauty of the female form as it is. This, she carries through her practice, whether it be professional or personal. As she describes it, her work is about being “raw, authentic and strong.” Having survived sexual assault and struggled with an eating disorder, Shakht has channelled her creative practice to process her
own trauma surrounding sex and sexuality, offering her subjects the space to feel “pure and free”—a feeling she also strives to embody. In doing so, she emphasises the power of women’s bodies rather than painting them as objects of sexual consumption.
Kristina’s intimate approach to photographing the female body is a consequence of her lived experiences. She recognises the cultural capital of St. Petersburg and speaks with fondness of childhood trips to exhibitions, ballets and operas across the city. Paintings such as Sandro Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, Leonardo da Vinci’s Madonna Litta, and statues of Greek antiquity, are all sources of inspiration for the photographer. Shakht admires them for their natural beauty, a quality that floats across her body of work.
‘To Be or to Become’, Kristina’s most recently published zine, is a culmination of her artistic and therapeutic processes; a tender ode to herself and the women she photographed. Compiled from photographs taken between 2020 and 2021 using Polaroid, 35mm film, and an iPhone, the zine offers a deeply personal and empowering representation of womanhood. Her models sit within delicate compositions and soft lighting; gently framing their quiet strength and beauty. Portraits often have a dreamlike quality, with muted colour palettes and gentle, natural light that enhance the contemplative mood of her images.
Kristina’s subversion of the role of the muse is arguably her greatest power as an artist. The pouty lips, porcelain skin and haunting gazes that envelop women in the Pre-Raphaelite and Renaissance art of her childhood, Kristina saw through. Determining them as void of truth; rendered passive by the artist to whom they were subjugated. The ancient muse who once embodied knowledge and creativity, reduced by men to simply a stunner. “I actually hate the word muse”, she begins, before taking a sip of orange juice. “I’m like: don’t say that to me! It almost implies that I’m obsessed with or sexualising my models, and I’m not. When people say muse, I feel like shouting THEY’RE NOT MY MUSES! What the hell. This is not what it’s about.”
Images and page layout taken from ‘Dreamlands’ PDF- a working draft of Kristina’s current project.
Kristina’s current project, ‘Dreamlands’ is her next move towards processing her past. In true Shakht style, the book is fiercely intimate, soft, feminine. Flicking through the PDF, my arms prick with goosebumps. Amongst the pink-tinged portraits sit scans of written messages, messy but passionate sentences of blue and pink crayon. Notes Kristina wrote to her mother when she was angry, she later tells me. Her childish Russian scrawls translates to “please don’t touch me. I don’t want to do what you tell me. I’m done. Forever” Below, a picture of a heart, abolished by angry scribbles.
Images and page layout taken from ‘Dreamlands’ PDF- a working draft of Kristina’s current project.
When I asked Kristina how she wants her work to continue make a difference, she replied “Owch. I’m thinking about it a lot. I do know that change comes in two different ways. Its either bottom up, or top down.”
Our conversation ends on the topic of jellyfish. “I just like jellyfishes” she said, before telling me all about her research into the tiny species, how because of climate change they’ll become the biggest species in the seas. Kristina’s fascination by politics does not stop with the body. She’s a living, breathing catalyst for change.
As I write this, America has elected a new government. My heart aches as I read through article after article, refreshing my phone, waiting for someone to say they got it wrong.
Instead, I see that Kristina has posted to her stories on Instagram: “Remember how you feel today, remember the rage and use it in your work, your art, people you hire, conversations you have. May this anger you so much that anger becomes productive action because elections and minds are not won over social media - they're won on the ground.”