Anastasiia Kramarenko

My name is Anastasiia Kramarenko (Leonova). My deep connection to photography comes from my father. I was just five years old when I first walked into a darkroom—our bathroom lit by a single red lamp—and saw photos from our Azov Sea summer trip hanging on clotheslines with wooden pegs. To a child of that age, seeing memories come to life like pure magic.

My work thrives on stopping time in the moment—catching live emotions or their quiet absence. After capturing the fast-paced energy of rock concerts or rallies, I return to themes of solitude to recalibrate my inner world. I find endless inspiration in unscripted, surreal encounters: from a personal story captured in the countryside as an Airbus flies overhead, to a lone skier chasing victory, or a ghostly face sculpted by the Aurora Borealis itself in the night sky.

What makes my work distinctly mine is that visceral feeling of stopped time. Whether I am amidst the raw chaos of an off-road race surrounded by smoke and roaring engines, or in a quiet, intimate room, my approach is the same: I freeze, dissolve into the surrounding environment, take a deep breath, and take a series of shots. In a split second, I innerly realize: 'That’s it! The moment is caught.' It’s that blend of complete presence, high emotional tension, and authentic, unposed truth that defines my visual voice.

What profoundly changed me and my perception of the world was the war that came to my home, my hometown of Kherson, Ukraine. Experiencing that reality completely shifted my relationship with time. I learned to deeply treasure every single day I am fortunate enough to wake up to. It taught me to notice life in its smallest, most quiet details, to be braver, not to fear making mistakes, and taught me how to adapt and survive through any situation. Photography became my way of holding onto that fragile, precious essence of life.

For me, these three factors form the foundation, but I always leave a place of honor for Lady Luck! You can calculate every detail, prepare thoroughly, set up the gear, and have your intuition telling you it will be a success—yet in the end, you realize that the magic happened simply because the universe aligned the circumstances just right. Technical knowledge provides the tools, preparation sets the stage, intuition tells me when to look, but Lady Luck delivers that one unrepeatable frame.

It was an early, completely silent morning in our rented apartment in Iceland. My husband had just opened his eyes, waking up naturally without an alarm clock—in that fragile state between sleep and reality where your mind pieces everything together: Who am I? Where am I? What lies ahead today? The soft dawn light poured into the room at a perfect angle through the narrow, high windows typical of Icelandic architecture. I saw this quiet, deeply intimate moment and knew I couldn't let it pass. It was entirely unposed; I made no preparations and just captured a quick series of frames, catching the exact second where peace, light, and introspection met.

What made this frame so special was the rare sense of pure stillness it captured. It caught that fleeting threshold between sleep and reality—a quiet moment of mental clarity before the day’s thoughts begin. When I looked at the image, the way the soft morning light sculpted his profile against the shadow felt almost otherworldly. It was an unscripted, honest reflection of vulnerability and peace, holding a universal depth that goes far beyond a simple portrait.

The key choice was shifting away from color to high-contrast black and white, stripping the frame down to its core—light, shadow, and form. Relying solely on the soft, natural light entering through high Icelandic windows created a graphic, almost sculptural silhouette. The minimalist composition puts all emphasis on the subject's quiet state of mind. Later, for my solo exhibition 'Wonderland,' I also explored this image in a color-inverted format, which added a whole new surreal layer to its atmosphere.

I want viewers to feel a sense of absolute inner quiet and warmth—a moment of pause in a noisy world. I hope it prompts them to ask themselves: 'When was the last time I truly slowed down and just existed in the present moment?' More than anything, I want them to leave with a lasting impression that beauty and deep emotion don't need to be loud or complicated; sometimes, all it takes is a single breath, a line of light, and the courage to be present.

Photography completely rewritten my perception of time and attention. It taught me that nothing in everyday life is ordinary—there is profound beauty in the smallest, most fleeting details if you just stop and look. Through my lens, I’ve learned to read people beyond words, catching their unposed truth, vulnerability, and strength. It turned my surroundings from background noise into a living narrative, teaching me to appreciate every single day, every place, and every human connection right 'here and now.

At the core of my photography is the idea that every moment—loud or silent—has a soul worth capturing. I hope my body of work communicates the importance of presence and empathy. In a fast-moving world, I want to create a space where viewers can reconnect with quiet emotion, notice the beauty in subtle details, and appreciate the fragile essence of time.

When I first read the news, my heart literally skipped a beat—it was a mix of pure disbelief and overwhelming joy. For an artist, having such a quiet, deeply intimate photograph recognized on an international platform like 12AWARDS is immensely validating. It proved to me that an image created without pretense, born simply out of love and a shared moment of silence, can resonate across borders and connect with people on a universal level.

Currently, I am working on expanding my fine-art projects, diving deeper into the dialogue between human emotion and the raw, untamed nature of Iceland. Building on the experience of my solo exhibition 'Wonderland,' I want to create a new body of work that continues exploring light, inverted states, and inner solitude. Looking ahead, I hope my journey leads to new international exhibitions and photo books, allowing me to share these quiet, introspective stories with a broader global audience.

Participating in 12AWARDS has been an exceptionally positive and seamless experience. The organization and communication are top-tier, and I feel honored to be part of a competition that values genuine emotional depth in photography. I have no major critiques—everything is well-curated. My only suggestion would be to keep creating platforms like this interview to highlight the stories behind the images.

If there is one final thing I’d love to add, it’s a note of deep gratitude to my family and my husband, who is both my support and the subject of this frame. Photography for me is not just about capturing light—it’s about preserving connection, resilience, and humanity. In times of change and uncertainty, art becomes the universal language that helps us hold onto what truly matters: love, inner peace, and the beauty of shared moments.

They might seem like complete opposites, but they actually feed each other. Shooting high-energy concerts or rallies trained my instincts to react instantly and read emotion in a fraction of a second. When I transition to fine art and portraiture, that same heightened awareness stays with me. I don’t try to construct a moment; I wait for it to happen naturally, capturing that precise instant when raw emotion breaks through the quiet.

Iceland has a way of stripping away the unnecessary noise. Its vast, minimalist landscapes and subtle, cinematic light force you to slow down and listen. For me, living here isn’t just about scenic views; it’s an emotional backdrop that encourages contemplation. It creates a space where inner solitude feels completely natural and welcomed.

Don't try to copy trends or worry about what the algorithm wants to see. Look inward and draw from your own life—your roots, your memories, and the experiences that shaped you. Authenticity isn't technical perfection; it's the courage to show your vulnerable, unedited view of the world. When an image comes from a real place inside you, viewers will always feel it.