Art, at its core, has always been a refuge—a place where creators and audiences alike can momentarily escape the weight of the world. In times of political unrest, social pressure, or personal despair, it forms a space that functions according to its own rules and is able to give both the glimpse of a distant hope and a promise of rebalance. This isn’t a mere escapism in the pejorative sense, but rather a deliberate act of soft resistance, a recalibration of the soul.

"The more difficult our lives, the more a graceful depiction of a flower might move us," wrote Swiss philosopher Alain de Botton, providing numerous examples of the most aesthetically touching works of art produced despite the turmoil. Unbearable chronic pain from spinal injuries and other health complications did not prevent Frida Kahlo from celebrating the colors of life, just as poverty, anxiety, and depression could not stop Van Gogh from seeking ways to express the inexhaustible energy of the very core of being. On the other side of the globe, to navigate a landscape of the Spanish Civil War violence and repression, Federico García Lorca turned to poetry. "If I die, leave the balcony open," he demanded in his verse entitled "Farewell". For him this open door was a reminder of a different life outside and beyond the senseless brutalities caused by the evil side of human nature—a passage that allowed back into the normalcy the little moments of beauty and meaning. Ksenia Malafeeva’s debut photobook seems to be longing for a similar type of silent observation.

What does it mean to continue capturing the intricate wonders of the ordinary in the world disfigured by wars, political manipulations, and polarization cultivated by social media, aggressive ads and populists' talks? What role do the quiet, soothing images of children, nature, water, and birds play in counter-balancing the hostile capitalistic reality? What conceptual message do they eventually shape?

For Ksenia Malafeeva the intention behind the publication is the idea to share a visual diary kept by a mother of four. Immersed in an ongoing dialogue with her children’s world, she approached photography as a medium of introspection and confesses to be observing their "unguarded emotions and unfiltered connection to life"—a sincerity and understated beauty the presence of which "reshapes the gaze, teaching to notice the subtlety of overlooked moments and find wonder in what might otherwise escape attention." "My images aim to reveal that the seemingly mundane holds an inherent vitality, a quiet power that binds us to a deeper sense of place and existence," the photographer concludes.
Such an aesthetic does not ignore the turbulence outside the frame but instead becomes its silent opposition. By choosing subjects that evoke purity, renewal, and harmony, Malafeeva aligns their frozen presence with a deeply humanistic longing for peace. The stillness of thoughtful birds, the laughter of a child playing with a garden hose, the might of a tree in the fog—all become visual metaphors for resilience, hope, and the possibility of solace

At first glance lacking a consistent narrative and perceived as subtle but recognizable hommages to some of the classic works by Sally Mann, Malafeeva’s images fit the proposed format: a diary of a woman trying to stop the moment of the daily carousel through the paradoxical documentation of the most "changeable", fleeing, untamed: growing kids, running water, fading flowers… All these frozen instances—similar to the delicate metaphors of an Asian haiku— are nuanced but universally symbolic in their very manifestation. An ice drift in the opening spread later rhymes with a piercing blue surface revealing the contours of an underwater plant dotted with the drops of rain. The sea kisses the beach and quenches the freshly cut flowers' thirst. Everything living inevitably undergoes changes. This too shall pass.

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