I grew up in our family house at 42 Weston Street, Yarralumla. Small squares of the original plans of the suburb and the house, and images of flooring, architectural and other detail have been digitally printed on translucent paper and pieced together with linen thread. The work is housed in a box covered with digital prints of personal letters and journal notings.
The work refers the the cut-up/piecemeal and stitched together/ tied up in emotion nature of memory.
Copies of old newspapers and images of window covering textiles, interspersed with written memories, in venetian blind format. My father studiouosly read the Canberra Times every morning at the kitchen table. How many words, how many stories, how many opinions passed over that table?
One was never sure if the window coverings were there to keep out prying eys or to keep us from seeing out into the world beyond.
House and home or bricks and mortar. Little boxes or valuable assets. Family, anchor,embedded with emotion and meaning, or just a place to lay your head at the end of the day?
If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then what are the windows of a house?