Do they dream?
If homes could talk, could they also dream? Do they aspire to obtain the grandure of the world wonders? Will they simply be seen, or appreciated?
“The places we live in are not just physical structures, but also repositories of our memories and experiences.”
In this digital installation, a field covered in translucent plastic sheets stands out against the natural surroundings, symbolizing the intrusion of artificiality into nature, much like concrete and steel homes amidst landscapes. Despite feeling out of place, it prompts us to consider the necessity of homes for shelter and the paradox of their existence within natural environments. Through this juxtaposition, viewers are encouraged to reflect on the delicate balance between human habitation and the preservation of nature to ponder the silent stories and emotions embedded in the essence of homes.
Peter Nitsch - Translucent
He seeks refuge in the fluidity of identity, finding solace in embracing perpetual change—a testament to the unwavering resilience of the human spirit amidst life's boundless metamorphoses.
Erik Witsoe - Metamorphosis
What would they say?
If Homes Could Talk explores and documents the untold stories of the architecture that fills our surroundings.
“Systems surround us. They shape us, they guide us, but do we see them?”
Order, measure, all designed.
Grids so straight, a world confined.
cmplx - Grids
Do they feel?
Texture and material leave traces of history. Traces of movement and activity through time and space. These details expose moments of precious tension, joy, and even pain.
“A multilayered space, in the map of a person’s life that is constantly surrounded by the light that comes from the past (afar) to the present time.”
I see these patterns as an invitation to imagine the countless stories of the former residents of the lost home.
Noah Addis - Ghost House #1
What have they seen?
The walls tell stories. The floors creak and warp to change with the times. What mysteries do these four walls hold, what have they seen?
“How could something so present and so visible to each one of us, somehow become invisible?”
All that remains of the once magnificent villa rises up under its leafy cloak. Stories of once wealthy landowners who enjoyed a glass of red wine in front of the fireplace in the piano room in the evening before going to their posh bedroom. Those days are long gone, but you can still sense that this was once a beautiful building.
Andy Schwetz - Almost Gone
Who will tell their story?
As time marches forward, as our spaces shift and change with our surroundings, who will remember to tell the story? That story that is so easily lost to time and dust.
“As we contemplate the hidden depths within ourselves, the home comes to life.”
Silverheels stayed to care for the sick and dying. This compassion came at a price and she fell ill, retreating in seclusion to her cabin across from the saloon. Time passed and the winter of sickness dissipated. The miners visited her cabin to present a gift of $5,000 for all she had done.
Silverheels had vanished.
Heather N. Stout - Silverheels