A studio project about houses with stories to tell.
There's a place that is unknown to us now, but seems so incredibly familiar. It comes to us in déjà vu moments and tingling gut reactions. It’s a dream space that we are conditioned to doubt and explain away with logic. It feels like home and I always miss it.
works on paper
Peering out the window, he couldn’t make out the landscape through the fog. Only the immediate foreground was recognizable, everything else was shut out by a thick grey-blue curtain. It was the same feeling as being in a mountain valley - the feeling of being nestled within something far larger than himself.
Without the monotonous domestic duties, without the tether of family obligation, without the burdens that a home imposes, there would be no need for escaping down desert dirt roads. And without the harshness and isolation of desert dirt roads, there would be no need for the security and shelter of home.
works on wood
The home was built long ago. Rooms were added as the family grew. Today, three generations live within the house but curious movements of lace curtains and phantom cool breezes down hallways prove that dozens upon dozens of relatives still live under the roof.