Sakeema Peng Crook

Lead image — Body suit and leg warmers by Rui Zhou, shoes by Rombaut, jewelry by Alan Crocetti

Breaking into the fashion world via radical self acceptance and truly honest self expression, Crook is bringing autonomy and creativity to modeling. In these glossy, radiant, Grace Jones-inspired shots, her riotous yet poised and peaceful demeanor is captivating.

We spoke to Crook below about creativity, fashion, and inspiration.

Left — Corset trousers by Dilara Findikoglu, boots by Rombaut, bracelet by Chloe, rings by Rathel & Wolf, ear jewelry by Alan Crocetti

Right — Full look by Shushu Tong, corset by Fleet Illya, shoes by Chloe, jewelry by Alan Crocetti, choker by Inaurem

Hi!

Hello!

Where have you been based during covid?

In London, mostly. In my bedroom, in my garden, in the parks; I spent a lot of time sunbathing in the park. I don’t know how much we can say, but going to squat raves and warehouse parties.

How is that?

Fun, really fun. I enjoy sitting in and being quiet and still, but you need contrast, right? So yeah, partying as well.

How is it there?

I have no idea, I don’t know what to think of the situation. It feels like they make one rule and then they make another. We’re learning change is so constant, that to just be truly present in the moment with what’s happened is the only salvation, I believe. There’s a new rule you definitely can’t have more than 6 people, so the second wave of lockdown is maybe happening? But then I just did my first live public performance last night.

What kind of performance?

It’s part of a continued collaboration with Keiken, a digital arts collective. We’ve been collaborating for nearly two years, digital world building. We made a CGI film together. It’s called “Feel My Metaverse”, and then there’s a new one, “We Are at the End of Something”. That one was in collaboration with Ryan Vautier. Really fun world building experience where I get to throw out my wildest ideas and then they make into some sort of reality. But the performance last night was a really intimate thing. We made tattoos that augment reality, I don’t wanna say too much…

What did the performance entail?

It was a combination of dance. At first it was about interacting with technology, so the audience members come in and technology is activated through a tattoo or sticker on my chest. So they activate it and they get to see an augmentation of me. After everyone had that experience, then I gave a small dance. A six minute thing, more along the lines of an offering than a performance. I worked as a dancer before and toured the world and danced on big stages, and it took a lot of the heart out of dance… it’s quite cold and meaningless to perform to a black space. When you meet the patrons supporting the work, they really have no interest. So it’s about finding those people you can collaborate with, who have a good intention, who have something that they really care about spreading.

You give so much when you perform, and you want it to be some sort of exchange of energy, and maybe you don’t feel that when you’re performing to a big empty space on a big stage.

Yeah, at that point, I'd rather just dance my own dances on my own. Instead of working so hard to dance someone else’s dance. It’s making something very natural to all of us into a commodity and into fitting into the capitalist system. I’d much rather be in collaborative spaces where if I am dancing, I’m facilitating someone else’s expression, them facilitating mine, so we can really work to grow something together that is honest and true, rather than something that is trying to please an audience. A sharing of energy, definitely.

What would you say your mission is as an artist?

To create change, to show that change is possible. To be free. Above everything, to be free. Freedom for myself, for my loved ones, for any and everyone who can receive it, who can be vulnerable enough to accept it as their reality. To show freedom is possible and it’s the realest thing. Way more real than any kind of lower energy frequencies or emotions.

What makes you feel the most free?

Expressing myself. Expressing myself in the many different ways that are possible. Allowing myself to be multifaceted, and in that, reminding other people of their multifaceted nature. It makes me feel free to realize myself, I guess, and through modeling and through this shoot in particular, I got to realize myself in a way that I’d never been able to physicalize before. That process of collaboration, of bringing something together, it was magic. Jacob and I, the photographer, after it was done, we were looking at some of the photos and we just cried. Because it’s been both of our wildest dreams to create something that really meant something to both of us.

Left — Dress by Paolina Russo, harness by Fleet Ilya, shoes by Rombaut, jewelry by Alan Crocetti & Shaun Leanne

Right — Jacket by Robert Wun, tabis by Maison Margiela, jewelry by Alan Crocetti & Rathel and Wolf

So can you speak a little more on the shoot? What was the idea behind it and how did that translate into the photos?

It was kind of a whirlwind. The day before, I found out it was going to happen. It was meant for another model, but she was so tired from doing other work, and I think Joel had a surplus of clothes from another shoot and wanted to do a full story on it. He was like, the world needs to see you. So yeah, it was, for me, about showing something otherworldly. That something otherworldly is entirely possible at the same time as it being a fashion story. I’ve always been very inspired by Grace Jones, and her work and her collaborations with photographers, and Jacob is also really in line with that. We spoke about how we might make the skin look more alien or more dark and delicious. I really believe he did magic in the edit in creating this alien version of me.

That’s very cool. I see a parallel between photos I’ve seen of Grace Jones… The glowing. The skin. It’s like there’s light behind it. Hard to explain, but I know you know what I’m talking about.

I do, exactly, the combination of… well I put a lot of work into my skin anyway, but the makeup artist, Georgia Hope, she’s a meticulous perfectionist of a makeup artist and she would touch me up and doing things to finite detail, which I really adored, and I think Jacob really wanted to celebrate the melanin, and celebrate the skin. It was also the middle of summer as well so I was naturally more tan and glowy.

What’s one last thing you want to say about these photos?

I guess I wanna say, these images in particular represent a childhood dream coming true. I get to see myself, I continue to, this collaboration in particular… seeing myself in a way I’d always dreamt but never really thought possible. Maybe I always thought it was, but other people told me it wasn’t. So, that really cheesy thing of, Follow your dreams, keep going after it, because it can happen! That’s how I feel.

That’s so special.

Yeah, it’s a good feeling.

What was the artistic collaboration like between you and the photographer?

Jacob and I’s relationship is really special because we’ve always just connected. We haven’t known each other necessarily that long. We met on set for another shoot, and then we partied together and got to know each other, and there’s always been a really great energy between us and an understanding. And then for Joel to kind of oversee all the family together, for it to feel like a family affair in a way. There’s people you vibe with, chill with, create with. It’s that thing of, of course it’s me in the image, but there’s a whole village behind me. A whole community of people helping to get me ready and really being involved in the creation. This is my first full editorial, my first full story. Joel was really teaching me how to understand my body as a model and not just as a dancer. Because as a dancer when I get in front of the camera it’s a very different type of shape that I’m creating, and how to refine that into something else. It’s really exciting for me. The images also represent community and family because there were points when I literally had everyone on me trying to get shoes on and hair on.

I’d like to ask you about your experience in the fashion world and what that’s been like for you. I feel like fashion is moving toward a more intersectional space, but it hasn’t really been that in the past, so what has your experience been with this?

I agree, I think this is a really exciting time. We haven’t seen anything like this really since the 90’s, when fashion was—no shade to the past 15, 20 years—the 90’s was the most exciting time. That was a time when fashion really meant something. When the designers really meant something, the photographers… Fashion was really respected as an art form and as a medium used to create new worlds, to make comments and statements. Fashion has always been the thing that has influenced the world, culture, and politics, and all of that kind of magic. I’m seeing it move into that space again, which is really exciting for me. And then my experience: it’s interesting because I’ve always wanted to be involved with fashion and to model. Specifically, I was obsessed with the 90's and always watched the classics: the Thierry Mugler shows, the old McQueen shows. The drama of it all… the drama of the lives of the models as well as what personality they were bringing on the runway. But it’s only been since the George Floyd awareness and the Black Lives Matter movement that people have started to see me. Which… I’m aware is a thing. But at the same time, I’m like fab, because now is the time.

It’s beyond awful that it takes something so enormous and so horrible for people to start to change, but the change is global right now, and I haven’t seen it this global before.

I agree.

Left — Body suit by Rui Zhou, trousers by Acne, shoes by Chloe, jewelry by Alan Crocetti & Shaun Leanne

Right — Jacket and skirt by Robert Wun, ski suit and glasses by Moncler & Richard Quinn, shoes by Crocs

What have you been working on artistically as of late?

My collaboration with Keiken was most recent because I just got back from tour, I still have my suitcase with me. I’ve been working on using the platform I have to use and develop my own teams, and I’m starting to get little murmurings and feelings and hints that certain publications are wanting me to bring my teams into their spaces with our ideas. So yeah, finding new designers, and the designers and stylists I already knew, and feeling like I can use whatever it is, what recognition or visibility that I have, and use that to bring them along. Then it’s just been a lot of self reflection, a lot of meditation, a lot of healing.

When you’re feeling down, what do you do to cheer yourself up?

I bring myself into the present moment. A friend of mine, a really dear friend, a sister of mine passed recently. Her body was found on a New York beach. So I guess it’s just being present. Being in perspective on a situation, gaining distance. Her name was Elie Che.

I heard, I’m so sorry.

Yeah… One of my dearest sisters, who gave me the shoes I was dancing in last night.

I’m sure she felt it.

She came to London and she made space for me. So celebrating, I guess. There’s always stuff to be celebrated. In her passing, she’s left a huge legacy and left so much that I’m really happy to continue on. Remembering that there is always good in every situation.

So to discuss your activism—do you consider yourself an activist?

Like… no. But everyone should be. “Activist” should be the default. So by me claiming the title, in some people’s eyes, that puts me on a different level, when really I’m saying I’m on the base of… not what we should be doing, but what we all can be doing. Everyone’s activism is going to look like different things. It’s a weird line. It’s an interesting one that I’m recontextualizing. Because I don’t feel compelled to speak at protests anymore. I’ve done that, and in the fight, in the protest, it’s just crazy. So much stress and emotional labor. My activism now will take form in the photos that people see, in the art I make, in the things I create and leave behind as traces. I would much rather be remembered for those things rather than the words I say, I guess. Because what is the English language? You know what I mean?

Culture

Mowalola x Miss Sixty Launch with H. Lorenzo

I swing my legs over the ropes that guard the VIP entrance. Always over (I’m 5’10), never under. I’m late to the H. Lorenzo x Mowalola event, and the line is wrapped around the block. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I hate waiting in lines; it just ruins everything.

“Hey, my friend is DJing right now. My name should be down,” I say.

The youngish security guard looks me up and down. I have made an adventurous choice for this type of crowd. Neon pink hoodie, bright orange vest, my Raimundo jeans, and Jeremy Scott animal print sneakers. I let him take me in and look over his shoulder. Hmmm… I will be swathed in darkness when he lets me in. Dark night, dark clothes, dark makeup, furs, hoods, leather accessories, and sunglasses. I don’t recognize anyone, but it’s hard to tell who anyone is because I can’t see after 8 pm without my glasses. Night blindness. I can still catch a vibe though.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Mr. Guard says, interrupting my squinting.

“Who?,” I ask.

“The woman in charge of the list.”

That’s a drag. I want to dance. Lately, I am going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounded fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I imagine the inside to be a mirror of this, hopefully with people dancing instead of blowing smoke in each other’s eyes.

“You got instagram?” The guard asks me after about ten minutes of flirting.

“Can I go in?” I said.

He laughs. He lets me in the event without a wristband.

Inside, I understand why the other guard was gone for so long. I made a mental note to not drink too much liquid, the bathroom line is almost as long as the line outside. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provided me with enough light to make out Mowalola in a gold bikini and her low rise denim. My pulse races like the horse printed on the front of her coochie. That’s the point of the collection, obviously.

My hips swing around before I head towards the open bar. I smile to myself, noting that it’s a mezcal forward menu. I see a drink that disgusts me so I order it without hesitation. It’s a mezcal coffee concoction. My heart ’s ran through already, why not go all in? I head back to dance when I hear Shigecki’s set start. I’m jumping around, sweating, and when I pause for a beat I let out a yelp. There are strippers working poles opposite and behind the DJ booth. Good. Events should be sexy.

I end the night smoking my friend’s Korean strawberry cigarettes taking in the air of cool- when a man comes up to me wild-eyed exclaiming that we look just like one another. I look at him- no, not at all. I turn slowly, remembering what I should be doing: listening to DJ G2G’s set. Back inside, she is playing reggaeton type beats with lasers beaming out of her headphones (I want these). A rave in it of herself.

Too bad all the events end at 2 am in LA.

Culture

Vans Pipe Masters 2024

On the first night, Steve Van Doren and the Vans team hosted the heat draw for the competitors at a casual backyard barbecue. The son of Vans’ co-founder Paul Van Doren, Steve has worked in the family business for decades, and is now known as the Ambassador of Fun. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat made out of old shoes, he was definitely dressed for the part. The surfers, along with family and friends gathered in a relaxed setting as 40 men’s and 20 women’s names were drawn from a shoebox. The competition would run in 3 rounds, the top 4 men and 4 women with the highest scores moving onto the finals. When asked about their strategies, most gave answers along the lines of “get waves.” Refreshingly simple.

After waiting a few days for favorable conditions, the first day of competition kicked off with Women’s Round 1. It was finally time to see Pipeline in action. Banzai Pipeline is known as one of the most dangerous places to surf due to the powerful waves breaking over shallow and sharp reefs. With the potential to crash into the rocky edges or have leashes caught in caves, it takes a ton of skill–-and even more courage–to surf here. No stranger to these risks, the first heat included favorites Caity Simmers and “Queen of Pipeline” Moana Jones Wong, who showed off exactly why they’d been successful here in the past. Midway through the heats, Mother Nature decided to throw in another element as a light drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Rain or shine, the athletes went out unfazed, focused on getting their first points on the board.

After another short day’s break, the competition continued with the women’s second round and the men’s first. The beach was filled with spectators, locals and tourists alike, as the competition was free for all to attend. While fans rooted equally for the women and men, the most popular were the local Hawaiian athletes, which made up about half the competition. The women started off the day again, hyping up the crowd with incredible rides. One ride by Bettylou Sakura Johnson earned the first Bag of Cash of the day– a cash prize (of undisclosed amount) awarded in a brown paper bag to any surfer that pulls off a wow moment, excites the crowd, and pulls off something spectacular regardless of what the conditions might look like.

Winds picked up as the men’s competition began and two strategies quickly emerged: an aggressive approach, targeting any decent waves to build small scores; and a patient approach, waiting for the perfect wave to chase a high single score. Even the waves that were unrideable were a spectacle in itself. The sheer size, illustrated by the length of surfboards riding up and over, and the following crash of white water spray was hypnotizing. Then imagining having to experience it out on the water, duck diving under or being lifted over, brought a renewed respect for the surfers.

After watching these early rounds, it was time for office to head back to the cold. With the competition officially spanning from December 8-20, it seemed the forecast was gearing up for some massive waves— and it didn’t disappoint. Following from afar through Vans’ Instagram and live updates, we saw the full extent of what it means to surf at Pipeline. After a series of electrifying and daring surfs, the 2024 winners were crowned: Erin Brooks and Nathan Florence.

The thrill of watching top athletes compete at the highest level of their sport, even remotely, never fails to inspire. Few sports surrender so completely to the forces of nature as surfing does. And at its core, surfing is all about having a deep respect for the ocean—its unpredictable whims, its immense power, and its ever-changing moods.

Culture

The Cost of Queendom

December 17, 2024

One summer afternoon in New York, a few days after their New York premiere of the acclaimed documentary Queendom, office met up with documentary filmmaker Agniia Galdanova and producer Igor Myakotin at a tattoo parlor on the west side of Manhattan. While Agniia received a tattoo of the portmanteau “DOCU CUNT” across her fists, she — unfazed by the needle on her knuckles — answered our questions alongside Igor about the making of the stirring story that has traveled around the world.

One of the opening scenes of Queendom depicts a ritual many of us are all too familiar with in the 21st century. Jenna Marvin, the documentary film’s central subject, takes her friend along with her to take photos for Instagram. When she finds a suitable backdrop, she poses, poses, poses, and then reviews the photos. Dissatisfied, she gives her notes, and then returns to pose, pose, pose again.

By Brook Aster
Photos by Liv Solomon

The ritual may be familiar, but nothing else about the scene — from its setting to its stakes — is ordinary. The backdrop behind Jenna is a sweeping expanse of ice and snow in a small Russian port town called Magadan. Jenna is dressed in drag, but not drag of the Rupaul’s Drag Race variety; her drag has been referred to as “creature drag.” Her signature white face paint, platform heels and surrealist costumes, with their exaggerated sculptural proportions and use of duct tape and repurposed items, catches the ire of her neighbors and the love of online admirers alike. Jenna eventually accrued a following on social media for her public and technically illegal drag performances, which often involved little more than her walking or being in public spaces but nevertheless were often met with abuse and threats of imprisonment.

But when Agniia first encountered Jenna, she hadn’t yet reached the level of virality that would eventually come in the years to follow. The filmmaker was researching different drag performers in Russia for her sophomore project, which she thought would be a docuseries, when she heard from a friend about a young drag queen from Magadan. “I was like, this is impossible. I have to meet this person,” Agniia remembers. “And I could not actually go meet her because I was in Moscow and she was in Saint Petersburg, so I sent a friend of mine with whom I’d been studying with in film school, and she went and filmed the sample.” The simple video, showing Jenna and her friend getting dressed up for a party, struck something in Agniia. The drag was an earlier, more prototypical version of the style Jenna is now known for; less duct tape and ornamentation, but still that signature striking makeup. “Something sparked. I knew I just had to stick to this feeling,” Agniia says. She decided to turn the docuseries into a documentary solely focused on Jenna.

Around that time, the entire world came to a grinding halt: the onset of COVID-19 pandemic had just led to lockdowns around the globe. With only a couple thousand followers on social media at that point in time, Jenna had tried to branch out and connect with other drag artists in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but faced rejection; her drag was extremely unconventional, and not even other drag artists quite understood it. “I think we found each other at the right moment, because nobody knew what to do, how to cope with all this,” Agniia says. “Jenna was saying that she was lost, and she also didn't know how to develop her art next.”

Unlike some of the other artists Agniia had initially researched, Jenna didn’t need much convincing to allow the camera into her life. “[Especially] after COVID came, there wasn't really [any] drag in my life,” Jenna recounts when I speak to her later over Zoom. “I realized that what drag is for me is not just a costume, a dress, something that you leave, that you take off and then in the dead of the night you put back on. Later, I understood that this is who I am, that I am art and I am drag, and that this is way bigger and more important than just clothing or costume.”

[LEFT TO RIGHT: Agniia Galdanova, Jenna Marvin, Igor Myakotin]

When it came time to move into production stages, Agniia sent a clip to Igor, who had been referred to her by a past colleague. When Igor saw the footage, he was similarly struck by Jenna — and even more struck to find out she shared his small hometown of Magadan. “It was just so fateful to know that I also come from this town, and I've never seen it through this cinematic lens, through the vision that Agniia has,” he says. “I was mesmerized by the footage, mesmerized by Jenna. I thought to myself, I have to do everything I can [for us] to work together, whatever the collaboration is gonna be.”

The two followed Jenna for over three years; Agniia first relocated to St. Petersburg, where Jenna had taken up residence after leaving her grandparents’ home in Magadan, and later Jenna moved in with Agniia in her home in Moscow. All the while, Igor and his team worked remotely from the United States to meet Agniia’s production needs. Inevitably, with all their time spent together, Agniia and Jenna became close.

“There is an unspoken rule in documentary filmmaking that you have to keep this line, and you can’t overcome certain boundaries,” Agniia explains. “In my first film, it was not an easy subject [to do this with] as well. I was following a family for seven months, and [we became] close, but I always was trying to keep my distance, and was constantly thinking about it. How much should I say? How much should I give?” But as she got to know Jenna, it became clear that this time, that distance wouldn’t be possible. “With Jenna almost from the very beginning, I was like, fuck it. That’s not going to work with this one. I'm going to break this rule 100%. I never regretted it, because that's actually what built up the trust that is there.”

As Jenna's public performances continued and began to garner more public attention, her online audience multiplied. Among her virtual admirers was French fashion maven Michèle Lamy, who would eventually sign onto Queendom as an executive producer. Lamy's discovery of Jenna led to an invitation to walk in the Rick Owens show in Paris — her first time modeling, and her first time leaving Russia in her life. Of course, Agniia and her camera followed. But most of their excursions were not so glamorous; many of Jenna's performances shown in the documentary were undertaken at a real risk to her physical safety, and by extension, to the safety of Agniia. But neither of them were daunted.

I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.

After all, Jenna was used to both taking risks and documenting them well before she was the subject of a film; she and her friends long filmed the often impassioned, sometimes violent reactions of strangers and policemen to their mere existence in public spaces in drag. And after a protest performance in which she wrapped herself in the Russian flag, Jenna was kicked out of beauty school, her last attempt at a practical route before pursuing her drag as a full time venture.

The only time Agniia tried to dissuade her was on Paratrooper’s Day, a Russian military holiday often characterized by the drunk soldiers roaming the streets. The risk for violence was especially high. “On Paratroopers Day, people say you can't come out in skinny jeans or with nail polish,” Jenna describes. “[I think] you should do the opposite. You should really make a statement and come out wearing what you want to wear. I think that clothes, what we wear, is really at some point beyond our psyche, our mind, our understanding. It is as if it's a certain kind of spice that is enticing you and you follow the scent of that spice and you don't see anything else except that scent and you follow it. That's how I see it.”

“I was like, ‘girl, maybe we should not do that,’” Agniia says. “Igor was stressing out and she told us, ‘well, you don't need to follow me. I'm gonna go and do it. I don't care if you're coming or not.’” In the end, Jenna ventured out for her performance anyway, protesting the then-recent invasion of Ukraine. Agniia followed. Not shown in the film is that the two were arrested, and managed to talk the police out of their arrest.

Not too long after, she would have to leave Russia again, this time moving for Paris for good; the film follows her struggles to get a visa in time to leave the country after the onset of the war. “It's already been three years that I've been in France, and it is important for me to understand and remember who I am, and to remember that pain, those moments when we were back in Russia doing drag, fighting with the police and law enforcement,” Jenna says. “It is important that this resistance continues and that those voices are not being silenced. Yes, here there’s much more freedom, there are pride parades and queer people can get married, but this is an illusion because there are also places where you cannot get married and you cannot enjoy the same freedoms. I cling to who I am, who I was from the very beginning. I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.”

“Meeting Jenna gave me hope for the future of the country, because governments come and go, people in power come and go, but the generations change at the same time,” Igor says. “So it warms my heart to see that someone like her came from somewhere like that. If I saw her back then at a similar age, it would be even more personal. I think I would’ve accepted myself as gay quicker, and I wouldn't be nervous or closed and not open to the world or myself… Working with this project also meant that we were amplifying the voices of many, many people who couldn't speak like Jenna could.”

For Agniia, the honor of telling Jenna's story is only paralleled by the honor of having her in her life. “We found each other,” Agniia says. “And what I learned from Jenna is so precious; about life, about art, about surviving. And I appreciate it a lot. This film grew so much larger than just a documentary, because I have a family now, a working family.”

Queendom is now available to stream on Apple TV.