This project is very personal. As a child, my mother called me “Plyushkin,” and I still see it in myself: the pile of things that grows at home, the inability to let go. It’s not about clothes; it’s about attachment, about what we hold onto. I shot this with Tusia, who works in theater here in the Bay Area. We spoke over coffee about collecting and letting go. I wanted absurd, symbolic objects, and a chicken in the yard became the perfect one, something held onto for no reason but impossible to release. Styling was key: too many layers, mismatched pieces, tension between textures and colors. Wrong, but still beautiful. Everything accumulates, and it all tells the Plyushkin story.

Burning Plyush, Plyush Crime, Red Heist.