Emmie America Photography

Photo

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 18:21:40 -0400

Saturday Night Live

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 15:31:48 -0400

Saturday Night Live

C.L.U.M.B.A.

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 18:09:37 -0400

C.L.U.M.B.A.

Photo

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 02:09:29 -0400

I think I'm turning asexual

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 17:56:47 -0400

Hey there

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 15:19:54 -0400

Hey there

Yulya

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 14:44:37 -0400

Yulya

Yulia at this Summer’s last C.L.U.M.B.A.

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 21:02:11 -0400

Yulia at this Summer’s last C.L.U.M.B.A.

Some Subway Yulia

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 19:44:30 -0400

Some Subway Yulia

Photo

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 13:35:40 -0400

ты была на максидроме?

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 07:59:00 -0400

да, как же я по ним скучала!

I will write a good post about this soon but for now let me say that 30 Seconds to Mars remain the most phenomenal experience I have encountered and today after my 7th show I am more inspired than ever. Thank yoy so much and I am endlessly proud to be Echelon.

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 19:47:26 -0400

Summertime Sadness

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 19:40:13 -0400

Summertime Sadness

Night

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 10:37:13 -0400

Night

на что снимаешь? (фотографируешь)

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 10:00:49 -0400

Canon 7D и 50mm 1.4 иногда 70-200mm 2.8 и 17-50mm 2.8

Жаль,что ты только в Москве фотографируешь

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 02:51:52 -0400

Еще в Питере чуть чуть!

As promised!

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 09:33:32 -0400

As promised!

Hi there! I'm sure you've been asked this a billion times so pardon me, but I was wondering if you would ever take photography requests?

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 09:09:36 -0400

Hey! Yes, of course I do. You can message me here or email emmieamerica@gmail.com as long as you live somewhere where I can be (NYC/Boston/Moscow/England etc) so feel free!

I leave for Moscow in 2 days and I promise to slam you all with new work.

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 18:10:45 -0400

My best friend wrote this.

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 00:42:44 -0400

I watch her so easily now. The startlingly short fuchsia hair, the bright lipstick and harsh make-up, the clicking of her heavy heels on the plastic floors, the intruding citrus smell wafting off her satiny skin, and the billowing of her long skirt do not unnerve me any longer. Instead, the gentle sound of her brush gliding over the canvas and the tenderness in her doe brown eyes send ripples of warmth across my skin. I listen to her unyielding voice tell summer stories of home in Russia. The Russian is faint in her accent now, for it is muffled by a British tinge and diluted by American overtones. I have heard the stories before, so many times that I know them nearly by heart. I forget why people stare at her on the street. I don’t see the harsh boldness anymore, just the courage in every stride and the urgency in her hugs.