KSENIIA PANKRATOVA
INSIGHTS
A personal look at timing, long competition days, backstage emotions, and the moments that make DanceSport much more than a few minutes on the floor.
By Kseniia Pankratova · October 31, 2026
Eight in the morning. The first couples are already on the floor. There is a long day ahead, and it may not end until close to 11 p.m. I still don’t know whether I’ll have time to eat properly. I have been photographing DanceSport since 2016, and over the years I have learned one important thing: it is almost impossible to photograph it well if you do not understand what is actually happening on the floor. A good camera is not enough. Neither is a fast shutter finger. Every dance has its own rhythm, climaxes, and accents. When you know the program well, you begin to feel what is going to happen a second before it happens. And sometimes that single second decides whether you get the photograph or miss it. A coach once asked me: “How do you catch those moments?” “I count,” I said. And I really do. Every dance has its own count. When you know the music and the program, you begin to anticipate when an accent, a change of movement, or a key moment is coming. There is something almost funny about it. People who have been around DanceSport for years often hear music somewhere and automatically start counting in their heads. Most of them can immediately tell you the program — and the dance. At some point, DanceSport simply stays with you. Either you catch the moment, or you don’t.
THE MOST DIFFICULT DANCE CAN GIVE YOU THE STRONGEST FRAME
Viennese Waltz remains one of the most challenging dances for me to photograph. The speed, constant rotation, and changing position of the couple make everything happen very quickly. But when you catch the right moment, the photographs can be incredibly dynamic. In Latin, I especially love Paso Doble for its strength, character, and drama, and Rumba for something completely different — the communication between two people, almost like a story unfolding between them. In Standard, I am drawn to Quickstep and Tango. They are very different, but each gives a photographer a chance to tell a story in a single frame.
IT IS NOT ONLY ABOUT THE DANCE FLOOR
When I first started, I hardly noticed what was happening beyond the floor. Now that seems strange to me. Because there is another entire world there. Parents. Coaches. Friends who may become competitors a few minutes later. Waiting for results. Final words before stepping onto the floor. Fatigue. Joy. Disappointment. Support. Sometimes what happens beside the floor tells you as much about an athlete as the performance itself. Over time, I became much more attentive to this life beyond the competition floor. For me, it has become part of the full story of an event.
ONE DAY CAN LAST FIFTEEN HOURS
You feel this most at large competitions, such as Ukrainian national championships, which may run for two or three days. A photographer’s day can begin at 8 a.m. on the floor and end close to 11 p.m. If you are working alone, it is physically demanding. On those days, I am always glad when other photographers are also covering the event. Sometimes the scale is simply too large for one person. Food? There is often no time. A couple of cups of coffee, and back to work. That is why even small things from an organizer can matter: a safe place to leave equipment, or simply somewhere to sit down for a few minutes. Those details make a real difference during a very long day.
THE AWARDS CEREMONY CAN BE HARDER THAN THE FINAL
You might think photographing athletes in motion is the hardest part. Not always. One of the most unpredictable moments for me is the awards ceremony. Parents want to photograph their children on their phones. They move as close to the podium as possible and often block the photographer’s view completely. And the athletes are not going to stand there for long. You have only a few seconds to find an angle where everyone is visible, no one is blocking anyone else, and the photograph actually feels like the final moment of the competition.
Awards ceremony — relief, pride, joy and disappointment in one frame. Photo by Kseniia Pankratova.
THE HUMAN FACTOR IS REAL
At large competitions, you cannot rely on memory alone. Dozens of categories, athlete numbers, schedule changes, and multiple heats can all be happening throughout the day. That is why I work with lists, athlete numbers, and reminders from clients in messenger. It helps reduce the risk of missing a requested performance. I do everything I can to prevent that from happening, but the human factor still exists. Behind one strong final image, there is often a great deal of organization that the viewer never sees.
WHAT A STRONG PHOTOGRAPH MEANS TO ME
When I review my work, I analyze myself first. Angle. Perspective. Scale. Timing. Even the youngest athlete can be photographed in a way that makes the image say something. For me, a strong photograph is not just a correct pose or a beautiful costume. I want to see individuality, character, and a kind of inner victory — whether the person is a child or an adult. Have you ever stepped onto a competition floor? It takes an enormous amount of work on yourself. Dozens or hundreds of people are watching. Judges are scoring. A coach sees technique. Parents notice movement, lines, and costumes. Competitors are watching with completely different eyes. And at the same time, the athlete has to walk onto the floor, smile, hold posture, remember the choreography, hear the music, and keep going. Not everyone can handle that. That inner strength is what I want to see in my photographs.
WHY I STILL PHOTOGRAPH DANCESPORT
Because it is a concentration of emotion. Every performance tells you something. And beside it, there is another story unfolding — coaches, parents, friends, competitors, expectations, victories, and disappointments. DanceSport is not just a few minutes on the competition floor. It is an entire, intensely alive world. That is why I still photograph it. Not only because of beautiful movement or costumes. I am interested in the moment when someone steps onto the floor and overcomes something within themselves — fear, fatigue, doubt, pressure. The camera simply allows me to see that moment and preserve it. And if you have never been to a DanceSport competition, come and watch one. It is incredibly compelling.
© 2026 KSENIIA PANKRATOVA
