On December 30th, 2008, I wrote the following entry in my journal:
I just got home from Christmas holidays. I realize this life, which I have been obsessed with, I no longer am in love with. I feel very strange. This apparently is my "home", so why does it feel so strange?
October 24th, 2009:
Tonight while driving home I was reminded of why I'm moving out of my [beautiful] 3.5 year old home.
It's the leaves.
I pulled over to grab a handful of them. They smell like... air. They smell fresh, bitter, sweet, sour. I don't really know how to describe the smell of a leaf.
There are no leaves in the suburbs. The closer I got to home, the less beautiful it became. I'm moving because I don't want to get too comfortable. It's pretty out here, but it's fake.
I don't ever want to have lots of money.
The most amazing trip I ever went on was last June to Horsefly. It's the real bush: no cell phone reception, no internet, no paved roads, no unionized grocery stores. It's a lot of bush, and I've never felt as free as when I was there.
I left my cell phone home a few days ago on purpose. I figured the lack of technology sitting in my pocket or purse would make me feel free again. It didn't. I tried to convince myself that I did, but it really, truly, didn't.
It's not the lack of technology that makes you feel free, it's the people you spend time with.
And it's the colour of the autumn leaves.
What is home? It's a question I've been constantly asking myself for many years. Sometimes home has been a place, other times home has been a person. Home has been an experience, a feeling, a picture and a breath of fresh air. Home has been peace. Home has been autumn leaves. Home has been a lot of things.
Just over two months ago I moved out of my home, that is, the place where I officially "lived". I left my apartment taking only my clothing, camera equipment, computers and a few boxes full of my journals and old photographs. It's not the first time I've done a move like this before, either. I left my home in Kelowna, taking the same few possessions, and brought my life to San Francisco. It's during these times, however, of leaving my home (and basically making myself homeless), that I've grown and suddenly found myself feeling more at home than ever before. I do not have a place to live right now, but I feel at home. I know the definition of this word is going to continue to change with time.
I've decided to go on a bit of a blind adventure in hopes of discovering the meaning of this phrase, "what is home?". I've asked this question several times, and now I want to live it and define it. I'm going to write and photograph as much of this journey as I can. I'm terrified; I'm notorious for starting and never finishing projects. I've also never done a large photo series before, but I've placed myself in a position where I have no choice but to live "homeless" and find what it means to be at home. This is something I've always wanted, and I am exactly where I want to be. I'm nervous but excited to explore this topic over the next while.
Today, I moved the rest of my belongings into storage, leaving myself with a suitcase of clothing, two cameras and my laptop. Here begins my travels and explorations within different people's homes, and across different cities.
Kate's home
The couch I slept on last night
San Francisco
Home right now has been the time I've spent with some of my closest friends. Specifically, Kate, Brittany, Nimmi, Mollie, Marianne, Marta and Casey. Thank you for letting me explore home within your own homes. I owe you ladies. You've done more for me than you can imagine.