COMPOSING THE FRAME
Words by Velin
To photograph architecture is often to describe it. Lines, volumes, materials, light. But for Zhanna, composition begins somewhere quieter, less visible, and more difficult to translate. Before the frame, before the lens, there is first a bodily register of atmosphere.
“I tend to notice how it feels to be in a space before anything else. How spacious it is, the atmosphere, and how freely I can move through it, whether the flow feels open or more controlled.”
This sensitivity to flow is not only spatial, but social. She reads how others occupy a place, how movement accumulates into rhythm. "A lot of this comes from sensing how others interact with the environment too: visitors, staff, the natural rhythm of the place.”
The space is never neutral, never empty. It carries behavioral cues, subtle permissions, and quiet limits. Rather than overriding them, she adapts. “I never try to impose my own energy onto a space; instead, I adapt to what it seems to be offering or asking for.”
This approach reframes composition as a form of listening. Not passive, but deeply alert. Her images are not extracted from space, but negotiated with it. That negotiation often happens in real time. “I usually try to take the shot the moment I notice it. The visual often triggers the emotional response like certain angles, shifts in light or unexpected frames spark a feeling or an idea.”
What she responds to is not only geometry, but timing. Light changes, atmospheres shift, and the same angle can lose its charge moments later. Many of her photographs arrive through accident rather than intention. “Many of my images come from accidental discoveries, and those come from simple curiosity.”
She avoids rigid pre-planning when working for herself, preferring to stay open to what reveals itself.“I rarely pre-plan a shot when it’s for my own pleasure or IG account - it’s more fun to discover on the spot. It also creates a better chance of finding a unique image or viewpoint, rather than when only trying to copy a reference.”
This openness is shaped by her background in art direction, but not in the way one might expect. It is less about visual polish and more about narrative awareness.“Practicing art direction, whether self-taught or formally learned, teaches you to consider narrative, not just objects: how someone moves through a space, how elements relate to one another.”
The frame becomes a slice of lived experience, not simply an arrangement of forms.“I try to observe and photograph in the same way, letting the intuition and energy of a space help me.”
What anchors her images is not drama, but calm. Even within monumental environments, her work resists spectacle. “Calm often emerges from respecting the energy that’s already there, and I try not to impose my presence too aggressively, letting the space guide me.” She does not seek to manufacture stillness. She notices it. “In a way calm isn’t something I create so much as something I notice, and learning to pause and feel it, both visually and emotionally, is something I try to practice.”
This sensitivity translates into restraint. What remains outside the frame matters as much as what enters it. “I look for moments where the space breathes where things feel balanced, and I can frame a clean, uncluttered view.” Selection becomes an emotional decision, not only a compositional one. “A lot comes from deciding what to include and what to leave out.”
When the human figure appears in her work, it arrives quietly, without dominance. Often it is her own body, carefully placed. “The curation and posing are intentional. They create a boundary that feels honest - a way of being present without revealing too much.” She treats presence as an accent rather than a subject. “I don’t try to disappear completely but at the same time, I’m not interested in dominating the image.”
There is a fluidity between self and environment in these moments. “I think of the space as an extension of myself in those moments, and of myself as an extension of the space.” The figure becomes a tool for scale, rhythm, and mood, not a focal point demanding attention. “My overall intention is to create an accent that supports the feeling of the image, rather than centering the focus solely on me or on the architecture alone.”
For Zhanna, a photograph succeeds when it holds onto the emotional residue of being there. “For me, the transition from my lived experience to an image is complete when it evokes the same sensations I felt in the space.” Technical precision serves that translation, not the other way around. “So overall it’s about capturing the essence and energy - rather than simply documenting the appearance of said space.”
Zhanna's curiosity is less about novelty and more about difference. “I’m curious to explore new cultures and environments - not always ‘new’ in a futuristic sense, but different from what I know.” What draws her is not architecture alone, but the way people inhabit it, the way culture shapes movement and behavior within built form.
In this sense, Composing the Frame becomes less about arranging visual elements and more about composing conditions: where emotion can settle, where viewers can project themselves into the image, where space is allowed to remain spacious. Her work does not rush to define. It invites attention, patience, and presence. And in doing so, it leaves room for feeling to enter before meaning ever does.
