Sasha Krautman

Year of birth: 1995.
Where do you live: Sydney.
Your education: Bachelor of Architecture and Interior Design (Saint Petersburg State University of Industrial Technologies and Design).
Describe your art in three words: meditative, calm, hopeful.
Your discipline: Color pencils on paper.
Website | Instagram

Your background in arts, architecture, and interior design is clearly reflected in your artistic style. How do these disciplines influence your creative process?

My education and experience in interior design have definitely shaped my sense of aesthetics and beauty, training my eye to notice small details that contribute to the bigger picture. I’ve worked as an architectural visualization artist for seven years, a role that requires constant attention to materials. Over time, I realized that many textures and patterns are beautiful even outside the context of interiors, and they deserve to be captured individually. This led me to start experimenting. After drawing my first wooden block, I couldn’t stop this journey. 

Sasha Krautman | This too shall pass part 1 | 2024

You’ve mentioned that the phrase “This too shall pass” was a theme for your recent artwork. How did this phrase guide your emotional journey through the creation process?

I had wanted to explore this phrase in my artwork for a while. It holds deep meaning for me and has kept me grounded through the toughest moments of my life, while also helping me stay humble during the happiest ones. When my grandfather passed away last year, I knew there wouldn’t be a ‘better’ moment to create this piece. At the same time, I was reading the autobiography my grandfather had written for us. Drawing this diptych became part of my grieving process and a way to reconnect with my family history. I wanted it to feel nostalgic, light, and hopeful—a reflection of things passing and things remaining with us, like small memories that linger even after their physical presence fades. Ever-changing, cyclical, and following a mysterious synchronicity, these moments form the unique patterns of one’s life.

Both of your grandparents seem to have played a significant role in this project. Can you tell us more about how their stories influenced the imagery in your diptych?

My grandmother was my biggest supporter when it came to art. She always encouraged me, telling me I would be an artist when I grew up. In many ways, this artwork feels like a tribute to her—as if I’m saying, ‘Look, Grandma, I’m doing it!’ While working on the piece, I was reading my grandfather’s autobiography. Their relationship was beautiful and passionate, shaping their life together. It has always inspired me, and I wanted to capture that as best as I could. Our family often says they were never seen apart in their minds, so I depicted my grandmother holding a mirror with his reflection, as if he is always with her, wherever she turns it, and perhaps even when she looks into it. Imagining them this way helped me accept loss and find comfort in the thought that, if there is a place where people go after life, they are now back together.

Grief and memory are strong themes in your work. How do you balance these heavy emotions with the sense of hope and lightness that your art conveys?

I try to keep a positive outlook on life. I think life can be dark enough, so we don’t always need to add more of that in art. While it’s important to acknowledge all aspects of the emotional spectrum, I prefer to view it through a lens of hope, light, acceptance, and an optimistic perspective on the future. In my artworks I prefer to use a warmer color palette, as well as objects and materials, like wood, that create a sense of comfort and balance.

What role does symbolism play in your work? For example, the red strings and moon imagery in your diptych seem loaded with meaning. Can you elaborate on their significance?

Even more than I love symbols, I enjoy hearing how people interpret them. There’s no ‘one way’ to see a color or shape, and viewers’ interpretations enrich each artwork beyond what the artist has ingrained in it. In the ‘This too shall pass’ diptych, the red string symbolizes a connection between souls and times. The young woman holds onto it, as if she wants to maintain her connection to home and the comforting warmth of light. At the same time, the lamp has a net in it, which can be viewed as a prison—warm and comfortable, but limiting. On the right side of the diptych, the girl is holding the moon on a string like a balloon, as if she’s catching it like a butterfly. She looks up with a hopeful smile. Interestingly, both of my grandparents passed away on a full moon. That’s why it was important to add it here, to symbolize the mysterious and synchronous nature of life.

Sasha Krautman | This too shall pass part 2 | 2024

Your diptych feels deeply personal. How do you think your audience connects with the personal stories you weave into your art?

I believe that the best way for people to connect with one another is through personal stories. When someone opens up and shares something that happened to them, revealing how it made them feel, we immediately see their soul. Even if we can’t relate or have never experienced what they have, pure, honest emotion is what brings us closer.

My main wish and aim is to evoke a state of self-reflection in viewers. Whatever they discover as they look and slow down is what’s most important for them in that moment.

Sasha Krautman | This too shall pass | 2024

You’ve lived in both Russia and Australia. How has your move impacted your artistic expression and your connection to personal themes like family and loss?

I started traveling long before moving to Australia, so I’m used to living away from home. While I don’t think the move has drastically changed my artistic expression, traveling and relocating have helped me focus on what truly matters. Leaving certain aspects of life behind has made me more aware of the meaningful elements I want to express in my art. The textures and objects I draw serve as important elements and pieces of life—a wooden table we once sat at with friends, a marble pattern we saw in a museum, a chair we remember from someone’s home. I aim to make them present, a piece of now.

Of course, it gets tough when something significant happens back home. You spend hours on the phone with family, trying to decide whether to fly back or not. Living so far away forces you to make difficult choices and sometimes miss important family moments. But when I do get the chance to reconnect, it feels so much more meaningful.. These experiences shape my perspective and influence my work, allowing me to express both the pain of separation and the beauty of what stays with us.