In Tokyo, time flows at its own rhythm. Sometimes it feels unstoppable, with buildings hiding the sky behind their bodies of steel, glass, and concrete. Other times, though, time pauses for a brief moment, and openings appear within the density of the urban jungle. Everything becomes liquid, transforms into water, into air.I met Kristina Tuzova in a café inside a shopping mall in Shibuya: I ordered a coffee, she had a cup of tea. We sat there talking for about an hour almost without interruptions. What you’ll read here is only an excerpt from that conversation. Tuzova works in various creative fields: she is a visual artist and a graphic designer. Born in Saint Petersburg in 1998, she lives and works in Tokyo, where she recently presented Unrequited, her first solo exhibition, focused on the concept of “what is unreturned.”
Kristina Tuzova, “I am tired of war”, 2025, 410 x 330 mm; “Dare”, 333 x 242 mm, 2025, airbrush on canvas, courtesy the artist
Enrico Boschi: Tell me something about your work.
Kristina Tuzova: At the graphic design company where I work, my boss always says that everything must have meaning, that it must be practical and useful. But as an artist, I often think about things by asking myself whether I like them or not — and only afterward do I reflect on their meaning or interpretation. It’s right that others are free to see whatever they want, you know? For me, the main thing is that it resonates emotionally with the viewer. That’s even more important than the hidden meanings I might be inclined to assign. If something is beautiful, sometimes there’s no need to explain it. But if we talk about critique, then yes, of course.
Do you feel a conflict between graphic design and art?
Yes. Graphic design is mainly my job — I like it, and I’ve been collaborating with this company for four years, so that must mean something. At the same time, what interests me most is representing myself. In my last exhibition, I finally felt like I was doing something for me, creating something that fully represented who I am. In graphic design, on the other hand, I tend to create for the client or follow my boss’s directions. That work is about projecting someone else’s mind. What matters to me is having financial security, because I come from Russia, and since I was a child I’ve been afraid of being poor and having to live under a bridge or something like that.
Kristina Tuzova, “And you?”, 2025, 242 x 333 mm, airbrush on canvas, courtesy the artist
Would you tell me what it was like to grow up in Russia?
My dream was to escape from Russia. For a couple of years, my Instagram bio literally said: “Help me escape from Saint Petersburg.”
And then it actually happened?
Yes, it did.
Tell me about your work in the fashion industry…
I worked with a friend of mine, a designer. The brand is called Cycle. Sometimes I modeled with her daughter, or we just drank something together. We became friends, and I started designing graphics and doing art direction for the brand in 2021. I also designed jewelry. So far, I’ve worked on five collections for this brand.
Kristina Tuzova, “Shy person”, 2025, 273 x 220 mm, airbrush on canvas, courtesy the artist
Do you prefer painting on canvas to working with clothing?
I don’t mind working in fashion. Actually, I enjoy it a lot.
Would you say you have a multidisciplinary approach?
I have this “problem”: I do too many things. I’m too multidisciplinary… But I don’t think that’s necessarily a problem. When your attention is divided in many directions, it’s hard to focus deeply and seriously, and to truly refine your skills. I’d like to do that. So I end up having to sharpen my abilities in every field that interests me — and that can be frustrating.
It certainly requires more time.
Also, many people don’t take you seriously. For example, if I say I’m an artist, a graphic designer, a photographer, I do 3D modeling and music… I can’t be recognized for just one thing. It’s nice, but… I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but I think people believe I’m not really any of those things.
Kristina Tuzova, “Forgotten”, 530 x 455 mm; “Crushed”, 410 x 330 mm, 2025, airbrush on canvas, courtesy the artist
You’ve now had your first solo exhibition. Did you work with a curator? How did you choose the title Unrequited?
I did everything myself. When I talk about the feeling of “unrequited,” I don’t necessarily mean romantic love — I didn’t want that to be the main theme. I wanted to focus on how one can experience that feeling in every aspect of life. For instance, even when you pray to God for your child’s well-being, you might feel that all your hopes and love go unanswered: God doesn’t reply, and that’s painful. It’s an exhibition that speaks a lot about pain, but in the zine I made, I explain that I don’t want the viewer to feel pity for me. Even if it’s extremely personal, it’s not only about me. I wanted to express a feeling that isn’t much talked about in Japan, especially in Tokyo. Japanese culture is built in such a way that everyone is ashamed to feel pain and to show it in public, because they fear being seen as crazy, sick, or inadequate. In Russian culture, instead, people talk openly about suicidal thoughts and things like that — though I’m skipping many details. There’s a painting of mine that depicts a black horse. It’s female, a mother, and she’s alone. Sometimes even love for an unborn child can feel unrequited. And now I can sense all my female ancestors. I hope you understand that these paintings are also about the act of looking at someone. But they can be interpreted in many other ways. I don’t want to place too much weight on it.
Kristina Tuzova, “1793-4520”, 2025, 180 x 140 mm, airbrush on canvas, courtesy the artist
Do you think art can be a way to escape something? Or a way to overcome a trauma, manifest it, understand it?
Sometimes I would draw something in my notebook, and then it would actually happen in my life. So it can be a form of manifestation — but it has to be pure, because when I drew, it came from real feelings. I didn’t draw dollars, you know? Even if you really want money… I think all billionaires have it because of some deep trauma or a real need to prove something. So they actually feel something for money, you see? I believe many people find in art a way to escape reality, because beauty can help you do that. I think for some people it’s essential to romanticize things — to see beauty so as not to kill themselves…
Info:
Born in Bologna, he studies fashion design and multimedia arts at the IUAV in Venice. He believes in the possibility of crossing boundaries between disciplines and that art can have an active role in breaking down inequalities and uniting people by creating communities.
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