I feel like too much. My emotions, fears, and thoughts constantly crash, crying for calm. I have nothing for them but the quiet reminder that they can make themselves at home.Russia, my childhood, feels like too much as well.

My parents were evacuated from Moscow March 2022 -my young existence wiped in a moment. The flowery patterns, bright textures, magical stories, overstuffed living rooms, dripping churches, and enchanted shoe corners taught me to shout, fill, maximize, and un-apologize for being. The couches were beds, the tables were puzzle boards, and the carpets were tapestries. Function, form, and forests flowed in a united creature. They decorated the home, calmed the living, and casted peace for the weary.

I stitch together worlds where we can celebrate being too much of everything. I papier mache side-of-the-road gems and thrift store finds into enchanted possibilities. I curate a softly shining ball of space and time. I do this to remember. I do this to breathe (and keep living). I do this for others. My space is your space and boyit’s wild, loud, crowded, and charged. Please, be as you are and exist where the exterior matches the interior: our Russian fort.