The project began in late spring 2025, when I started photographing small shifts and subtle changes on my everyday routes using my phone — from home to the metro, to the grocery store, the university, a café. These were details I might never have noticed if I had continued moving through these paths on autopilot. Sometimes it was something unintentionally funny, sometimes it was my ongoing fascination with construction sites, like yet another red-and-white tape.
Over time, this gesture turned into a habit. Almost every evening, or simply whenever I left the house, I began assembling collages in Instagram from images taken on the same day, often presenting them as ordinary photographs. I was amused by the fact that within the endless stream of content people usually spend only a few seconds looking at stories. There is rarely time to examine details, and I quickly realized that I was likely managing to subtly distort reality and quietly deceive viewers.
This practice became important for me as well. My daily routes stopped feeling like an endless routine, and the photographs turned into a kind of anchor, helping me stay attentive and present.
About half a year passed in this regular distortion of reality and small acts of deception on Instagram. At some point, the finger-clothespins appeared, but they lacked the very reality that could be tested through them. This is how the project began to take shape. For it, I produced new photographs over the course of a month, refining this method of visual displacement. Eventually, my teachers and colleagues stopped fully trusting my images, which everyone found amusing. In the end, people had to be literally pinched in order to believe in reality again.
The finger-clothespins were made by taking molds of my own fingers, combining them with clothespins, and casting them in liquid plastic after a series of technical experiments.