Temporary Home

​Some of us dwell in a place that does not belong to us. Our stay here is only temporary. The constant ambient noise filling the atmosphere. The place seemingly banal to myself, yet probably not to the original owners. It is a home with a character that does not belong to us; not created by us.  We inhabit this place, yet each corner is laced with items that do not belong to us. A house merely borrowed for its functionality.  

It is a home that doesn’t feel like home. A transitional place. Nostalgic, yet lonely.  Cosy yet insignificant.  The insignificance forcing us to appreciate the plain and ordinary; because these are the only routines carried out in this place.  Giving the vast reservoir of the normally unnoticed appreciation.  These are the repetitive actions that comprise the common ground of daily life here.

Walls of homes act as containers of memories.  Even the ones that are only a temporary home.  They soak up all we say and do. I find our temporary space quiet but beautiful. There is a transfixed stillness in the late evenings and the earlier moments of the night. When everyone has completed their leisures in the common areas, and returned to their rooms. I find comfort in these tranquil slots of frozen time.

This transitional home is our container, collecting the temporary moments in time to freeze into timeless memories. It is our beginning and end to each day. A collection of our most mundane interactions in the space. The walls of this place catch sight of our everyday life.

The everyday surrounds us.  Everyone’s everyday is different.  We are inside it; it surrounds us from all directions. When concentrated on, patterns emerge, routines and daily activities. Even the simplest of moments; the noticing of light shimmering in through a window. These are not things we often remember or spend hours thinking about. However, they are an essential trait. Conventionally belonging to the insignificant.

This project is a documentation of the ephemeral moments in the domestic space my partner and I share. The trace of our presence fairly faint. Our lack of significant interactions here are what allow us to acknowledge the everyday mundanes and find comfort in the ordinary. This is a window into my psychological space, and how I view our temporary home.

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