Nastia Yanson
contemporary art photography
Reality Check is a project exploring a state of distrust toward reality and the gesture of testing it. The work focuses on moments when the familiar appears almost normal, yet something feels off.

The project consist of a series of urban photographs, collages, and studio images of an art-object, finger-clothespins. The object evokes the pinch me gesture and acts as a tool for verifying what is happening when the visual environment becomes unreliable and requires bodily confirmation.

Photographs of reality, its distortions, and images of the testing object alternate without clear boundaries. Collage becomes a way to convey a state in which reality feels both recognizable and uncertain. The visual shifts are minimal, which makes them all the more capable of evoking the everyday sensation of unease that arises without an obvious cause. Within the series it becomes difficult to tell where the authentic image ends and the constructed starts.
Reality Check, 2025
exhibit project art-objects
For the exhibition, the photographs are printed on fabric and suspended on the finger-clothespins. This brings the image and the object together in a single point: the photograph is held by the same gesture that, within the series, serves to test reality.
Exhibition Design:
The project began in late spring 2025, when I started photographing small shifts and subtle changes on my everyday routes using my phone. These were details I might not have noticed if I had continued moving through the city on autopilot: something unintentionally funny, or my ongoing fascination with construction sites and red-and-white tape.

Over time, this gesture turned into a habit. I began assembling daily collages in Instagram, often presenting them as ordinary photographs. In the rapid flow of stories, where images are seen for only a few seconds, there is little time to examine details. This allowed me to subtly distort reality and test how easily it could pass as familiar.
This practice changed my own perception as well. My daily routes stopped feeling routine, and the photographs became a way to anchor attention and presence.

After about half a year of this quiet distortion, the finger-clothespins appeared. They became a tool for testing reality itself. For this project, I produced a new series of images, refining these visual shifts until even my teachers and colleagues stopped fully trusting what they saw. At that point, pinching became a necessary gesture.

The finger-clothespins were made by taking molds of my own fingers, combining them with clothespins, and casting them in liquid plastic.
Behind the Work: