I was gifted my Pentax K1000 when I was 12 years old and have since spent a significant amount of time and money photographing and developing photos. Journals, scrapbooks and photo albums have populated my bookshelves and bedsides most of my life. These are mere attempts to hold on to the moments that have made up my life.

In sorting through photos that I have taken over the years, as well as photos taken by my siblings and parents, I began to notice my childhood home emerging as a central figure. My family has been in our house for over 20 years. It is a site of nostalgia as well as a site tangled with uncomfortable feelings and memories. This house is not only a physical setting but also a vessel for all of its accumulated emotional histories.

I am inspecting my home past its literal architecture, instead viewing it as an intimate landscape impacted and shaped by layered and shifting memory. By creating double exposures of my own, I am overlapping multiple moments or memories onto one another. Some images contain literal documentation of the rooms. In other images, light leaks and distortion interrupt clarity. These choices reflect the instability of memory. When I reconstruct images of my childhood home, I am also mapping a version of my own mind, tracing how memory, space, and identity remain deeply entangled.