There are really two jobs here, and the second one matters far more than people expect. Job one is building the thing so it reads as big and soft and present. Job two is documenting it — taking the photo, video or animation that will outlive the actual object. Most people will never stand in the room with your work; they'll meet it through your documentation. So the shot you choose isn't an afterthought, it is the artwork for almost everyone who experiences it.
Building Big Without a Big Budget
You don't need bronze or a foundry. Soft sculpture is built from textiles and recycled materials — old sheets and op-shop fabric for the skin, scrunched newspaper, foam offcuts, packaging and stuffing for the bulk. You build a rough armature or just stuff a sewn shell, and you let it slump and sag, because the softness is the point: a hard thing made soft is exactly the kind of cheeky, ordinary-made-strange move this unit lives on. Cheap materials are a feature, not a compromise — they keep the work playful and they make scaling up genuinely possible.
Documenting It — the Shot Is the Work
Once it's built, you have to record it, and the choice you make tells the viewer different things. A wide shot shows the whole object sitting in its space, so it reads as an installation you could walk into — it gives context and room. A close shot crops in on texture and detail — the seams, the sag, the soft surface — so the material does the talking. A with-a-person shot puts a human in frame, and that's the one that nails the scale: nothing says "this thing is enormous" like a tiny person beside it.
In the toy, place your soft object, set the figure beside it, and flick between the three shots. Watch the caption change with each choice — same sculpture, completely different message. That's documentation working as an artistic decision, not a tidy-up at the end.