a space of new aesthetics and sincerity
Katya Tsoy
The naked soul whispers in the language of sensuality and tenderness: even in the transience of flesh — eternity; even in pain — love; even in decay — healing
Kuro: The body. A word so understandable and familiar to each of us. Every day, every moment, we encounter this word, its physical manifestation. But how often do we pause to ask ourselves: what can the body truly reveal? What secrets of the soul lie hidden in its curves, the softness of skin, the allure of delicate lines?
How often are we willing to perceive the body not as a given, but as art? Are we even capable of it? Can we glimpse within our bodies what eternity has inscribed in them? Do we feel them so deeply that it transcends into ephemeral, yet profoundly powerful emotions and sensations?
Perhaps the entire world — the universes within us — begins with how we regard our own bodies and those of our loved ones. Could this be the origin of everything? Perhaps true love starts with a simple shift in vision: seeing not just a body, but the soul within it. When you look beyond the neck, lips, nose, collarbones, forehead, shoulders, arms, waist, or slender legs and feet — when you see not these parts, but a person’s world, their soul, the journey they’ve traveled, the wisdom they carry.
It seems a single moment is enough for this truth to etch itself into your mind. Once felt, there is no turning back. You’ve touched something sublime, something extraordinary and beautiful. You’ve unlocked universes.
How often are we willing to perceive the body not as a given, but as art? Are we even capable of it? Can we glimpse within our bodies what eternity has inscribed in them? Do we feel them so deeply that it transcends into ephemeral, yet profoundly powerful emotions and sensations?
Perhaps the entire world — the universes within us — begins with how we regard our own bodies and those of our loved ones. Could this be the origin of everything? Perhaps true love starts with a simple shift in vision: seeing not just a body, but the soul within it. When you look beyond the neck, lips, nose, collarbones, forehead, shoulders, arms, waist, or slender legs and feet — when you see not these parts, but a person’s world, their soul, the journey they’ve traveled, the wisdom they carry.
It seems a single moment is enough for this truth to etch itself into your mind. Once felt, there is no turning back. You’ve touched something sublime, something extraordinary and beautiful. You’ve unlocked universes.
sense of bodies
Katya Tsoy:
Instagram: instagram.com/tkatyas
X: x.com/senseofbodies
ExchangeArt: exchange.art/senseofbodies
Foundation: foundation.app/senseofbodies
Objkt: objkt.com
Instagram: instagram.com/tkatyas
X: x.com/senseofbodies
ExchangeArt: exchange.art/senseofbodies
Foundation: foundation.app/senseofbodies
Objkt: objkt.com
Kuro: The shadows thicken like ink spilled upon the altar of forgotten gods. The air trembles between flash and darkness, between question and answer, between skin and abyss. Here, in this liminal space where light kisses shadow, a confession is born — not through words, but through the arch of spines, the tremor of lashes, the silence of veins.
The art of the nude is not exposure, but revelation. It is an attempt to trap the soul in snares of shadow, to tear it from the cage of ribs, to force it to speak in the language of scars and birthmarks. But how do we gaze into this mirror without shattering it? How do we hear the whisper of flesh without going deaf from eternity’s scream?
These images hold not bodies, but maps of starlight — skin etched into constellations, scars as meteor trails. They whisper that even in falling, there is flight; in rupture, wholeness; in death, a beginning.
Look closer. Through cracks in the aesthetic, a light glimmers — soft yet stubborn, like the breath of a sleeper. This is hope: that we are more than flesh. That love is not a wound, but a suture. That darkness is only the underside of radiance.
And here lies the audacity: to laugh in chaos’s face, to strip the shroud from the soul. Photography is not an answer, but a howl into the void. Yet the echo of that howl, rebounding off eternity’s walls, returns as poetry. In it, a vow: As long as hearts beat, art will breathe. As long as pain exists, beauty remains. As long as love endures, light persists.
Step inside. But tread carefully.
The art of the nude is not exposure, but revelation. It is an attempt to trap the soul in snares of shadow, to tear it from the cage of ribs, to force it to speak in the language of scars and birthmarks. But how do we gaze into this mirror without shattering it? How do we hear the whisper of flesh without going deaf from eternity’s scream?
These images hold not bodies, but maps of starlight — skin etched into constellations, scars as meteor trails. They whisper that even in falling, there is flight; in rupture, wholeness; in death, a beginning.
Look closer. Through cracks in the aesthetic, a light glimmers — soft yet stubborn, like the breath of a sleeper. This is hope: that we are more than flesh. That love is not a wound, but a suture. That darkness is only the underside of radiance.
And here lies the audacity: to laugh in chaos’s face, to strip the shroud from the soul. Photography is not an answer, but a howl into the void. Yet the echo of that howl, rebounding off eternity’s walls, returns as poetry. In it, a vow: As long as hearts beat, art will breathe. As long as pain exists, beauty remains. As long as love endures, light persists.
Step inside. But tread carefully.
ON THE BODY AND PERCEPTION
Kuro: A conversation about the body as a paradox. Temple or prison, art or taboo, strength or vulnerability. Why do we admire it in museums yet feel shame toward it in life? Where is the line between inspiration and boundary violation? And can we, through skin, muscles, curves, grasp what is formless: the soul, essence, eternity?
Here, there are no clear answers — only an attempt to pierce through to truth through questions about art, fear, ethics, and the magic of a body that becomes a mirror of the human.
Here, there are no clear answers — only an attempt to pierce through to truth through questions about art, fear, ethics, and the magic of a body that becomes a mirror of the human.
GRADATION / © KATYA TSOY
Kuro: What does "beauty" mean to you in the context of the human body? What does the body itself mean to you? Is it a temple, a prison, a tool, or something else?
Katya: In my understanding, the beauty of the human body lies in its natural essence. Humans are the pinnacle of nature — its expression, reflection, voice, and thought. The body is a medium for expressing philosophical ideas and symbolism; it conveys my vision and emotions through details. The body is possibility: the possibility to articulate feelings, to reveal vulnerability, to project strength, and simply to live.
Kuro: Why do you think the body is so often a subject of art? What is eternal and universal about it? Is it about love, passion, pain, or something else?
Katya: The body often serves as inspiration and a subject of art because everyone can relate to it, as we all inhabit our own bodies. This allows anyone to connect with art, bringing them closer to the possibility of understanding it.
The body holds both simplicity and an eternal, universal boundlessness of questions and answers. As an artistic subject, it can convey all emotions — love, pain, passion, despair — across different eras. It depends on the viewer and the creator, on when they absorb and when they express.
The emotions my art conveys are a fusion of the creator’s current inner state, the philosophy embedded through imagery, and the viewer’s present inner world.
The body holds both simplicity and an eternal, universal boundlessness of questions and answers. As an artistic subject, it can convey all emotions — love, pain, passion, despair — across different eras. It depends on the viewer and the creator, on when they absorb and when they express.
The emotions my art conveys are a fusion of the creator’s current inner state, the philosophy embedded through imagery, and the viewer’s present inner world.
Kuro: What do you think — why are people so often afraid of the naked body, even when it’s art?
Katya: Attitudes toward nude art are ambiguous and even provoke fear because there is a fine line between when it is art and when it becomes a sexual object.
Rooted in internal fears, traumas, and societal constraints, people sometimes struggle to acknowledge even their own bodies. Yet nude art has the power to reveal the true, natural essence of a person. What nature has created is something that should be embraced.
I hold to the philosophy that my art is about sensuality — conveying it through fingertips, the languor of a gaze, the wind in hair… a form of nudity that preserves mystery.
Rooted in internal fears, traumas, and societal constraints, people sometimes struggle to acknowledge even their own bodies. Yet nude art has the power to reveal the true, natural essence of a person. What nature has created is something that should be embraced.
I hold to the philosophy that my art is about sensuality — conveying it through fingertips, the languor of a gaze, the wind in hair… a form of nudity that preserves mystery.
EGO / © KATYA TSOY
Kuro: What do you feel when you photograph nude bodies? Is it more about vulnerability or strength?
Katya: When I photograph, I convey both strength and vulnerability in my art. But what’s the difference? To me, they are interconnected facets.
The ability to be vulnerable in your sincerity is the greatest strength — the strength to be honest, the strength to love, the strength to acknowledge it and choose, the strength to reveal it all. Strength — to be vulnerable.
The ability to be vulnerable in your sincerity is the greatest strength — the strength to be honest, the strength to love, the strength to acknowledge it and choose, the strength to reveal it all. Strength — to be vulnerable.
Kuro: Where do you think the line between art and voyeurism lies? Or is there none at all?
Katya: The line between art and voyeurism lies in the details — both technical and philosophical. Light, color, angle, the underlying intent, accents, details, and even the model’s gaze matter.
This is precisely where the greatest challenge lies: to create true art rather than a sexualized object. That’s why my work is often depersonalized and not bound to a specific persona.
This is precisely where the greatest challenge lies: to create true art rather than a sexualized object. That’s why my work is often depersonalized and not bound to a specific persona.
Kuro: Can you "photograph the soul"? What does capturing the true essence of a person mean to you?
Katya: Only by photographing the soul through the nude body can it be called art; without the soul, it is precisely a sexualized object.
I photograph souls themselves: the uniqueness of a person lies in the swollen veins on their hands, the tears streaming down their face, the tension in their muscles, their breathing — all these details reveal the true essence and beauty of the human soul, unobstructed and in its genuine manifestation.
I photograph souls themselves: the uniqueness of a person lies in the swollen veins on their hands, the tears streaming down their face, the tension in their muscles, their breathing — all these details reveal the true essence and beauty of the human soul, unobstructed and in its genuine manifestation.
ON FEELINGS AND SENSATIONS
Kuro: Photography is a dialogue between light and shadow, where emotions become co-authors. What drives one to press the shutter: sadness, a love affair with the world, or the anxious itch of fear? How does personal pain or joy refract through the lens, altering reality within the frame? And where lies that boundary where form ceases to be a wrapper, and content screams through silence?
Freedom in the solitude of the shot — an attempt to capture the tremor of the soul in a single click, or to provoke the viewer into a reciprocal sigh, rage, or awe. Here, there is no camera — only a conduit between what you feel and what they will see.
Freedom in the solitude of the shot — an attempt to capture the tremor of the soul in a single click, or to provoke the viewer into a reciprocal sigh, rage, or awe. Here, there is no camera — only a conduit between what you feel and what they will see.
Kuro: Tell me about the feelings you experience during the process?
Katya: Most often, I create my shots with a sense of tranquility and a desire to explore the world. Each of those shots is crafted in the moment, during every photoshoot.
However, depending on my internal state, that very essence is expressed in my work. This often happens not on the actual set but during post-processing, while crafting the title, or embedding an underlying idea. In different emotional states, I can infuse the same shot with contrasting emotions and meanings — whether light or darkness.
There’s a particular photograph titled "ONLY FEELINGS" where I captured unshed tears, unspoken words, and unexpressed emotions. Only a single vulnerable, honest gaze tells the entire story of their depth and value.
However, depending on my internal state, that very essence is expressed in my work. This often happens not on the actual set but during post-processing, while crafting the title, or embedding an underlying idea. In different emotional states, I can infuse the same shot with contrasting emotions and meanings — whether light or darkness.
There’s a particular photograph titled "ONLY FEELINGS" where I captured unshed tears, unspoken words, and unexpressed emotions. Only a single vulnerable, honest gaze tells the entire story of their depth and value.
ONLY FEELINGS / © KATYA TSOY
Katya: In the moment of shooting, I follow my instincts; that’s when I feel most free — not thinking, not anticipating, just sensations and life in that very instant.
My art is always about balance: the balance between substance and the beauty of form. In my understanding, neither can exist without the other, and neither can truly be called art.
Balance in everything. It’s vital for me to pour into my art all that I feel and how I perceive it, while also compelling the viewer to illuminate their own emotions — to hold their breath, followed by a deep, resonant exhale.
My art is always about balance: the balance between substance and the beauty of form. In my understanding, neither can exist without the other, and neither can truly be called art.
Balance in everything. It’s vital for me to pour into my art all that I feel and how I perceive it, while also compelling the viewer to illuminate their own emotions — to hold their breath, followed by a deep, resonant exhale.
ON THE PROCESS OF CREATIVITY
Kuro: To catch a moment or to carve it out of the darkness? When does the frame cease to be yours and begin to breathe on its own? Rituals as bridges to another state; models not as objects, but co-authors — what resides within them: a spark, rebellion, silence?
Space that whispers a story, poses that betray the soul’s secrets. And most importantly — where is that line where a photograph ceases to be an image and becomes a confession: here I am, without masks. Art as an attempt to halt time, without letting it notice it’s been deceived.
Space that whispers a story, poses that betray the soul’s secrets. And most importantly — where is that line where a photograph ceases to be an image and becomes a confession: here I am, without masks. Art as an attempt to halt time, without letting it notice it’s been deceived.
Kuro: Is your art a search for something or an escape from something? Perhaps a dialogue or a narrative?
Katya: My art is a monologue. It’s not about searching or escaping — it’s about the process of living, the sensations of the moment, the love infused into every second of a lived experience.
On set, I manipulate space and the model to craft a moment and seize the chance to immortalize it. The model is inseparable from the space, and the space becomes an extension of the model, as vividly expressed in the mixed-media piece "SYMBIOSIS".
On set, I manipulate space and the model to craft a moment and seize the chance to immortalize it. The model is inseparable from the space, and the space becomes an extension of the model, as vividly expressed in the mixed-media piece "SYMBIOSIS".
SYMBIOSIS
... how it merges into a single human body & nature. the curves of the body are the same as the bends of the dunes. one is a continuation of the other. one soul divided among this stream. symbiosis ...
Katya: There is never a sense that a frame is truly finished; it feels endless. Years later, when I look back at it, I rework it internally and externally. But in the short-term moment, it’s simply a feeling of satisfaction from achieving what I imagined and captured.
In 90% of cases, I work with clients — not professional models, but real people with their own histories of soul and body. I don’t select individuals based on physical attributes, only on mutual trust and freedom of self-expression.
I meticulously structure the entire photoshoot process, guiding the model with instructions and, like a mantra, directing them throughout. Yet it’s a continuous movement, a kind of dance, so that by following my voice, the model expresses their own uniqueness. I pay close attention to breathing, the subtlest details of fingertips, and the tension of muscles.
The most honest photograph about love is one where it’s visible even in the space between fingertips — "LOVE IS..."
In 90% of cases, I work with clients — not professional models, but real people with their own histories of soul and body. I don’t select individuals based on physical attributes, only on mutual trust and freedom of self-expression.
I meticulously structure the entire photoshoot process, guiding the model with instructions and, like a mantra, directing them throughout. Yet it’s a continuous movement, a kind of dance, so that by following my voice, the model expresses their own uniqueness. I pay close attention to breathing, the subtlest details of fingertips, and the tension of muscles.
The most honest photograph about love is one where it’s visible even in the space between fingertips — "LOVE IS..."
LOVE IS… / © KATYA TSOY
ON BEAUTY AND AESTHETICS
Kuro: What flows through the ages, or what we collide with? How to capture with light and shadow what quivers between aesthetics and awe? Photography: a thought or a gesture? A tool to wound stereotypes — or a mirror where a stranger’s soul suddenly recognizes itself? And crucially: can we shatter molds without forging new ones? Here, reason and intuition clash, and the frame becomes a battleground — between what exists and what yearns to be seen.
Kuro: Do you have a personal definition of beauty? Has it perhaps changed over the years?
Katya: Aesthetics give birth to emotions, and emotions give birth to aesthetics. In my case, one cannot exist without the other. It’s about symbiosis.
Intellectualism expressed through art is the pinnacle of sensuality.
When it comes to a person’s self-esteem and the impact of their nude photography on it, they might discover something they hadn’t seen in themselves before — their beauty and strength in the details. This can help them recognize their own intrinsic worth.
I start by grounding myself in the unique traits of a specific person, capturing them, then filtering these through my own vision and perspective. Finally, I refine it all into something entirely new.
Intellectualism expressed through art is the pinnacle of sensuality.
When it comes to a person’s self-esteem and the impact of their nude photography on it, they might discover something they hadn’t seen in themselves before — their beauty and strength in the details. This can help them recognize their own intrinsic worth.
I start by grounding myself in the unique traits of a specific person, capturing them, then filtering these through my own vision and perspective. Finally, I refine it all into something entirely new.
collaborations
Exploration of exoplanets
Katya Tsoy X Emin Mathers
Looking for Love on Jackals’ Hills
Katya Tsoy X Kuro
Lullabies For The Storm
Katya Tsoy X satureney
Katya Tsoy X MIME
Katya Tsoy X Emin Mathers
Looking for Love on Jackals’ Hills
Katya Tsoy X Kuro
Lullabies For The Storm
Katya Tsoy X satureney
Katya Tsoy X MIME
ON THE INNER AND THE OUTER
Kuro: Creativity as an existential duel. Fears hidden in the shadows of the frame, and traces of the soul left in every photograph. What do old works whisper when time rewrites their meaning? If photos screamed — would they become a confession or an accusation?
And most importantly — what question was never asked of you, yet lingers in silence, like an unshot frame? Here, there is no fear — only a dialogue with what hides behind the lens: between memory, hope, and the eternal “what if...”.
And most importantly — what question was never asked of you, yet lingers in silence, like an unshot frame? Here, there is no fear — only a dialogue with what hides behind the lens: between memory, hope, and the eternal “what if...”.
Kuro: What fears do you have as a photographer? And are you afraid of anything in your art?
Katya: My fear of dying inside, of ceasing to be myself so much without growth and transformation that I can no longer see the beauty in my art.
My art reflects different facets of my soul, as the voice within emerges from the depths.
Looking at my old works, I see my past journey. Each stage of my photography marks a new phase of my emotional and sensory experience in real life — from light to darkness, from darkness to rebirth.
If my art could speak, it would cry, laugh, despair, and love with all its passion.
As long as humanity remains human, the art of the nude will be immortal.
My art reflects different facets of my soul, as the voice within emerges from the depths.
Looking at my old works, I see my past journey. Each stage of my photography marks a new phase of my emotional and sensory experience in real life — from light to darkness, from darkness to rebirth.
If my art could speak, it would cry, laugh, despair, and love with all its passion.
As long as humanity remains human, the art of the nude will be immortal.
selected works
Kuro: What makes you get up in the morning and do what you do?
Katya: No matter what happens, the thought that drives me to return to my art each time is: "What comes next?" I want to understand that.
Kuro: What would you want to leave behind in this world — a memory, a feeling, a trace, or something else?
Katya: Through art, I would leave a part of my soul in this world, with all its memories, emotions, and way of thinking.
Kuro: If your art could change one thing in the world, what would you want it to change?
Katya: If my art could heal pain, then it would become a panacea.
EPILOGUE
Kuro: Thus speaks she whose photographs are not mere images, but incantations. The one who captures souls and grants them eternity in exchange for a moment of vulnerability. Her art is not an answer, but a question hurled into the abyss. And the echo of that question lingers in every breath you take, in every shudder, in every whispered, "What comes next?"