PHOTO SHOOT TRIP TO ST. PETERSBURG — EIGHT MODELS, ONE ROBBERY

Arrival

St. Petersburg is beautiful, but the city doesn’t go out of its way to please you. I wasn’t afraid, but I did feel a sense of respect. Maybe it was the language, or maybe it was that feeling of never quite knowing where you stand.

The “Family Inn”

We stayed at a small, nice “family-run guesthouse” that had about 1,700 rooms. The hallways looked like airports, the walls were thin, and it was constantly noisy. The hotel food wasn’t great, but the food in town was consistently very good.

Daily Rhythm

We had breakfast in the morning, and then we took an Uber to the studio. The drivers often dropped us off 500 to 600 meters before the location. With Cyrillic signs and no sense of direction, you honestly feel lost in moments like that, but somehow we found our way every time.

The Studios

We worked exclusively in studios—but anyone who thinks “studio” means white walls and studio lights is mistaken. The locations in St. Petersburg were lofts. High ceilings, historic architecture, lots of character. And above all: natural light. Large windows, often facing north or east, providing that soft light you just can’t buy.

I prefer working with available light rather than artificial light anyway—not out of convenience, but because it’s more authentic. In these spaces, that wasn’t a compromise. It was the only right choice. The light worked in my favor.

More about Available Light Photography: PetaPixel — Photography 101: Using Available Light

There were just the two of us, and we tried not to influence each other. When my friend was taking photos in the studio, I’d knock, wait for the go-ahead, and stay outside until he was done. When it was my turn, he’d stand somewhere else, and so would the model. In the evening, we looked at the results and We envied each other. That’s exactly how it should be. .

A photo shoot trip isn’t a vacation. In the morning, we worked with two models and shot for about three hours. After that, we took a short lunch break, changed locations in the afternoon, and met some new people. Then we shot for another three hours. There was no stopwatch, but we quickly fell into a rhythm.

One of the models spoke only Russian. There was no need to explain much because she set a relentless pace. She would stand there, glance briefly, ask, “Что дальше?”—“What’s next?”—and immediately move into the next pose. I’ve rarely photographed so quickly—and rarely enjoyed it so much. That energy filled the entire room. One of the models spoke only Russian. There was no need to explain much because she set a relentless pace. She’d stand there, glance briefly, ask, “Что дальше?”— “What’s next?”—and was already moving into the next pose. I’ve rarely photographed so quickly, and rarely enjoyed it so much. That energy filled the entire room. One of the models spoke only Russian. There was no need to explain much because she set a relentless pace. She’d stand there, glance briefly, ask, “Что дальше?”—“What’s next?”—and immediately move into the next pose. I’ve rarely photographed so quickly, and rarely enjoyed it so much. That energy filled the entire room.

We just called one Uber driver “Schumacher.” He drove just under 100 kilometers per hour in town, took curves as if they were slalom gates, and smiled friendly the whole time. I held on tight and wondered if everyone drives like that here or if we were just lucky.

One evening in particular stands out: We wanted to have steak with two models. At this restaurant, every waiter and waitress looked like a model and sang between courses. It seemed absurd, but it was good—both in terms of the food and as a moment in itself.

On the last day, we still had some time left, so we went to see a church. I left my gear at the hotel, but he didn’t. On the street, a man approached us and offered us a hat—one of those with flaps that fold down over the ears. Meanwhile, someone was trying to open my boyfriend’s camera backpack. He turned around and struck out. Suddenly, five men were standing there. It all happened quickly, loudly, and senselessly. In the end, a lens was missing—nothing else. At that moment, it dawned on me that these men had nothing to lose.

Still, the good things remain. First and foremost, I think of the women who were friendly, engaging, and easygoing. I think of the food, the evenings after the shoot, and the model who spoke only Russian but understood everything anyway. St. Petersburg didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms, but it was a full week. Eight models, lots of photos, and a few bruises. It was real, and that’s why I went there.

The photos from this photo shoot are available as limited-edition fine art prints right here. Not at poster stores. Not on Amazon. Only here, and only while the edition is still available.