“Between Subject and Author: The Visual Language of Nikki Gal”
There is a shift happening in the way images are created — and, above all, in who controls them.
Nikki Gal moves precisely within this space, not only as a model but as a creator of her own visual language. In this editorial, created entirely through self-portraiture, she inhabits both the role of subject and author, dissolving the distance between the one who looks and the one who constructs the image.
Her roots in a small town in New England, along with her connection to nature, subtly yet consistently shape her work, giving form to an aesthetic that moves between memory, balance, and intention.
In this interview, Nikki Gal reflects on her journey, her relationship with image-making, and what it means today to reclaim one’s own gaze.
In your work, you’re not just a model: you construct images, define the styling, and control the entire creative process. Do you feel more in front of the camera or behind it?
I don’t separate the two. They are extensions of the same voice. Being in front of the camera is where I embody the idea. It’s instinctual, emotional, almost like stepping into a frequency I already understand.
But behind the camera is where I translate that feeling into something more. If I had to define it, I don’t feel more one than the other — I feel most like myself in the intersection of both. That’s where my work lives. When I’m both the subject and the creator, there’s no gap between vision and expression. The image becomes exactly what it’s meant to be, not just aesthetically but energetically.
You have a 13-year career in fashion behind you. How has your relationship with image and with your body changed over time?
13 years, yeah — it’s been a long time. I think in the beginning, my relationship with my image was very external. It was shaped by what I thought the industry wanted from me — how I should look and how I should move. When you start young, especially as a teenager, you’re absorbing direction more than you’re defining it. Over time, that shifted completely. Now, my relationship with my image is internal first. It comes from how I feel, what I’m expressing, what I’m creating — not from fitting into someone else’s expectation. There’s also a deeper level of respect now. I choose what aligns with me, and I walk away from what doesn’t. So the biggest change is this: I went from trying to fit an image to creating and inventing my own.
In this editorial, you worked using self-portraiture, following a visual approach that echoes a certain kind of contemporary photography. For you, is it an aesthetic choice, a necessity, or a way to reclaim the gaze?
The traditional system allows access to the usual structures: photographers, teams and the frame work that typically authorizes an image. So self-portraiture became my way of continuing to create without waiting for permission. I also practice self-portraiture to legally own all of my photography work to gain full ownership and control over my own image. Additionally in an industry where the female image is so often constructed through an external lens, that shift is everything. So it was more than just an aesthetic choice, even though visually it may echo contemporary photography. It’s more personal than that. It’s a reclaiming of authorship.
You come from a small town in New England. How much has that context, seemingly far from the fashion system, shaped your visual world?
Growing up in a small town in New England shaped everything about myself. I grew up around farms — my childhood was very simple. When I was a child, my father and I would drive just to watch the horses and sheep. For me, my childhood and nature were the first reference points. That is why so much of my work carries those elements: it’s not aesthetic decoration, it’s memory. In this editorial, some of my childhood memories are translated into a visual form. I am wearing my mother’s shirt from the 2000s, my prom dress from my teenage years and moving through the woods I grew up near. There is also something about balance. Coming from a place that feels slow, grounded and then stepping into an industry that moves fast — it creates balance. That balance lives in my work. It’s why I am drawn to blending natural environments with structured memories and fashion, or softness with something more controlled.
You often speak about your connection with nature. Does that relationship enter the images you create, or does it remain something more personal and unseen?
It definitely enters the images — almost instinctively — but not in a way that feels forced or overly literal. For me, nature is not just a backdrop, it is a language. A lot of the time, that connection shows up in subtle ways: the way I use light, the textures I am drawn to, the color palettes — earth tones, reds and beiges. At the same time, there is a part of it that remains personal. Nature is also where I go to disconnect from the industry and from the noise. So I would say my connection with nature exists in both spaces — the seen and the unseen.
Your approach to wellness and nutrition seems to be an integral part of your life. How do you avoid it becoming a superficial narrative, especially within the fashion industry?
For me, wellness has never been something I stepped into because of the fashion industry — it’s something that was already part of my life long before I entered it. I grew up with an awareness of how important it is to take care of yourself, so when I started modeling, I didn’t have to adopt wellness as a trend — it was already integrated in how I live. In 2025, I wanted to deepen that understanding in a more structured way, which is why I became a certified personal trainer and a certified nutrition coach. I think what keeps it from becoming superficial is that it isn’t driven by aesthetics for me. It’s about longevity, clarity and stability — physically and mentally. I also don’t treat wellness as something performative. It evolves with me. Some days it’s movement and some days it’s rest. That flexibility is what keeps it honest. For me, wellness is about preservation and balance instead of a visual identity.
Building an image entirely on your own means having full control. How does that coexist with the idea of balance that you describe as central to your life?
In photography when you build your image entirely on your own, people assume it’s all precision and all direction. And it is, in moments. I am very intentional with what I create. Control protects my vision, my boundaries and my peace. But balance is how I stay human inside of it.
If you had to describe this editorial not as a series of images but as a state of mind, what would it be?
It would be a state of return. Not just in a nostalgic sense, but something quieter and grounded — like coming back to a version of yourself. Shooting this editorial in my home town, in nature I have known since I was young, removed any sense of superficiality. Nature has duality — it’s soft, but it holds power. That’s the space I was in mentally. Very aware, very connected but also at peace with not needing to control every outcome. So if I had to define it, I would say it is a state of peace and return.
