My recent photographs, The Perception of Home are built through a process of exploring the notions of recollection.  I am interested in how memory works as a constructive process that reproduces, filters, changes, and interprets the past. For most of us, memories are precious because they are vivid and scare, but for some, these frozen moments can be chilling mysteries, less emblematic than enigmatic.

As I began photographing interior spaces and including staged incidents within my home I focused on the psychological diagrams:  both room and house. As I see my childhood house now, the building is quite dissolved and isolated inside me:  my bedroom here, bathroom over there, and a hallway that does not connect either of the rooms. Every detail is scattered inside me, the kitchen that possessed a glow of orange above the sink at night, the red stairs that led to the basement, and the words that flew from mouths and bounced from walls. 

The home is the potential of human life, the replica of our own mother’s womb; it acquires the physical and moral energy of the human body. It is defined as a space where one feels safe and secure; when these factors are eliminated thorough domestic violent human interaction the walls disintegrate and begin to tell the occurrences of what was unseen. It represents fundamental aspects of our lives; its importance stems, in the first instance, from the intricate way in which it is bound up with the basic human needs to determine how we behave. My work speaks through the familiarity of the home, where spaces of our everyday, entwine perpetually with the memories and associations of our experiences. While a house is often referred to as a home, the concept of 'home' is broader than a physical dwelling. Home in terms of where one grew up, is often a place of refuge and safety, where worldly cares fade. In effect, home is a type of time, rather than a place.