November 2012
My three books showcase a home once lived in for three years by my mother, my father, and myself. It was a place where I began the first few years of my life and my parents experienced their beginning years of marriage. Shortly after we moved out, the house fell apart as well as our family structure. This particular house became a home to other figures that quickly abandoned it by quietly leaving their belongings behind one night. No one has stepped foot in or around this house in a number of years and it belongs to no one except the environment that has slowly began growing over it.
I explored what it means to relive memories through old photographs that were taken while living in this home and going back to the same location in present time by comparing how the space changes over the years and how the home feels without any figures occupying it. Empty areas replace the human presence, dead leaves replace sounds of voices, and materialistic items are replaced by remnants of the previous owners of the house. I cannot remember anything about living in this house except when looking at old photographs that revive those memories. What I try to remember is blurred, as the house's relationship with myself, and as my father’s present relationship to my mother and me. 
