In the history of language and culture, the color red is deeply intertwined with the idea of beauty. In Russian, the word krasny once meant not “red,” but “beautiful.” This etymological memory points us to another way of perceiving the world—where color existed not as a category of the spectrum, but as a form of admiration, as the manifestation of being.

For Anastasiia Terentieva, this semantic trace becomes a key to her artistic practice. Working primarily with women’s images, the photographer transforms red into a tool not of ornamentation, but of revelation—red creates tension, structure, the inner geometry of the image. In Terentieva’s work, red is never simply “worn.” One enters it, as one would enter a space; it is not decoration, but a way of delineating presence.

In her photographs, red is never accidental. A red dress does not flatter the figure—it anchors it within the frame. A ribbon does not serve as a playful accessory—it cuts through, it divides space. At times, red appears as the faintest gesture—a line across skin, a shadow over fabric. At other times, it expands, fills the frame, establishing resistance and tension. Yet in every case, the color exists not for spectacle, but for the architecture of the image.

The artist conceives of photography as construction: she “builds” a frame from light, gesture, fabric, and silence. In this architectural design, red is neither wall nor window, but the light that tells the eye where to look. Red may be a crown, a wound, or a silence so dense it takes on shape.

Such an approach to color turns Terentieva’s photography into an exploration of the tension between form and softness, between movement and sculptural stillness. Red becomes a pause—a moment of suspension in which a woman’s presence is not explained but affirmed.

Anastasiia Terentieva is an artist whose work transcends simple portraiture. Her concern is not display, but co-creation: the model is never an object, but a co-author of space. Within this collaboration, red functions as a mediator—not as a symbolic code, but as a force shaping the viewer’s experience.
Today Terentieva works in the United States, focusing on fine art and editorial photography. Her images have been exhibited and published internationally, resonating with audiences who recognize that, in her work, red does not define a woman—it underscores her gravity.

Sarah Ceraci
20.08.2025