Russian-born American photographer Anastasia Samoylova loves Barbie. Not only did she wear a bright pink suit to the opening of an exhibition of her photography at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in October, but she also insisted on taking her teenage son to see the 2023 Greta Gerwig movie— Think this is important feminist viewing. “Perfect? No.” She recalled how Margot Robbie’s protagonist, Barbie, brought the joyous dance floor to a halt when she loudly asked, “Have you ever wanted to die?” “That’s really what I’ve been trying to convey,” Samoilova said. “It’s all pink and attractive, but we’re going to die.”
Samoilova, whose work is currently on display at the Metropolitan Museum in New York and the Saatchi Gallery in London, has won critical acclaim for her subtle, anxiety-provoking images of Florida’s crumbling pale pink landscapes. Her 2019 series Floodplains—a nod to the unsettling bureaucratic labels that often make the difference between life and death—is a surreal chronicle of a decaying area in real time.
Samoilova’s work blends pastel pink tones with images of displaced flora and fauna, as seen in “Pink Sidewalk” (2017). ——Anastasia Samoilova
“Concrete Erosion” (2019). The “Flood Zone” series is a study of immediate climate decline. ——Anastasia Samoilova
Cracked bubblegum-coloured concrete, flooded swimming pools, uprooted palm trees and displaced crocodiles paint a disturbing new picture of the climate crisis. Samoilova’s images are far removed from the visual language of hungry polar bears and blazing wildfires that often saturate their surroundings. “Everything is intertwined,” she said. “That’s why I think it’s very dangerous to isolate climate change as something isolated and abstract, and to tie it visually to melting ice caps, because we’re in this moment right now. Every political decision affects us every day. .
Samoilova moved to Florida in 2016, struck by the state’s harsh weather and aging infrastructure. She immediately began documenting her new surroundings. Nearly eight years later, in the wake of Hurricane Milton, the Flood Zone feels more important than ever. Milton is the third hurricane to make landfall in the state in 2024. But Samoilova doesn’t call herself an environmental photographer. “I hate labels,” she said. “I live in Miami, and for me, the choice of medium itself carries a responsibility to reflect on our times. Why else take pictures?
Samoilova believes that the photographic medium has the responsibility to “reflect on our times.” Currently, our era is defined by climate change. Georgia Crabs (2018) by Anastasia Samoylova. ——Anastasia Samoilova
The insidious, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it approach to her observational photography is intentional. Samoilova’s years of capturing political extremism, gentrification and environmental collapse have given her time to think about how to package disastrous messages. “How do you convey these very complex topics and make them relevant?” she asked. “The trickiest part is not making them offensive.” Come, as many visitors do, to the pink sidewalks of Miami’s streets, and stay to feel the sense of existential dread that ensues. A spoonful of sugar can help the medicine be absorbed, she said. “(Climate change) is stigmatized and has been divisive, at least in the part of the country where I live, especially in Florida. Who knows, it may well disappear from the conversation again.
But in addition to offering a record of Florida in crisis, her work is also imbued with dark poetry—and plenty of room for creative interpretation. Samoilova’s favorite pastime is wandering through her own gallery installations, parking herself on viewing benches or floating like a “ghost” among visitors, and paying attention to how people read her work. “That’s the best feeling,” she says, “to have the work open enough for people to discuss it on their own terms without providing too much of a didactic narrative.”
One image in particular is ripe for analysis. In Crocodile (2017), a crocodile floats above the viewer, suspended in murky, acrimonious green water. Although Samoilova took the photo in a nature reserve and placed the camera close to the crocodile’s tank, no true context of the animal’s surroundings was seen. It could be anywhere – swimming in a flooded street, or waiting beneath the surface of a flooded pool. “It’s a fable,” Samoilova said. “Because they do show up in people’s pools,” she said, adding that it feels like almost a month goes by without a reported alligator attack, “but these beasts have been here forever. This is their native habitat, so We are the invaders, not them.
Miami Beach Parkway (2018) by Anastasia Samoilova. ——Anastasia Samoilova
“The swimming pool after the hurricane” (2017). Samoilova’s favorite pastime is listening to audiences interpret her works. ——Anastasia Samoilova
Samoilova saw something “Ballardian” in the crocodile photo, which she also chose to feature on the front of her business card, specifically its connection to British author JG Ballard’s 1962 dystopian novel The Drowned. World,” a novel that depicts a post-apocalyptic Earth swallowed by water. “(The crocodiles) are rising above you, and you’re at the bottom of the reservoir,” she said. “This is what Florida feels like. I mean, we’re sitting here today and it’s 29 degrees Celsius (84 degrees Fahrenheit). It’s November.
However, this series – and Samoilova’s own personal views – should not be doom and gloom. “I’m still not really an optimist, but hopeful,” she told CNN.
Her next project, titled “Change,” explores this sentiment – focusing primarily on capturing the many climate solutions already being implemented around the world. Everything matters: from solar panels and green roofs to urban gardens and corporate schemes.
“We need a little hope,” she said.
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