I've moved more than 15 times throughout my life and never considered any particular place as home. 
 

This work is a time capsule of everyday things in the only space I've ever seen as my stability, my grandparents' house. It's a collection of photographs, old and new, I want to keep and preserve. These are everyday moments that, for me, cannot be recreated.
 

My grandparents' built their home and spent 49 years in it, they're now beginning the process of moving out. I am documenting the details of this space, little things that feel so familiar to me, details of a mundane life which I've placed so much value in. In my images I present the elevation of the everyday moment, exploring intimate details and experimenting with processes to bring beauty into the ordinary. My photographs are accompanied by an archive of images of my grandparents' life in the house.
 

As my grandparents pack boxes, and remove furniture and begin to let go of a place that has been a pillar in my life, I feel the ache of it and it makes me realize how desperately I was holding on to this as my stability, my home.

I've always found it hard to understand why I feel this way. In reality, I know it's just a house, just a few brick walls and carpeted floors, just two people. But through every moment in my life, that home has witnessed some part of it, it holds this memory of two individuals, two people that I love, who won't be around forever. Two people who have cared for me like nobody else.