Patterning a Home

The question driving my constant impulse to create is this: how do the places in which we spend our time transform the four walls around us into this larger entity we call “home?” I begin to answer this question with an investigation into the use of repetition, time spent, and memory in my own body of work. In order for a space to become a home, one must build up a collection of experiences in that space over time. To show this, I explore the relationship in my work between repetitive mark making, pattern, intense labor, memory, comfort, and my deep longing and simultaneous anxiety around calling a space my true home. A house only becomes a home after it has been lived in and filled with objects important to the inhabitant to personalize the space and to make it as comfortable as possible. Repeated action implies time spent, and over the time we live in a single place, we repeat the patterns of our daily lives inside the walls of that space. We have experiences in that space and create memories that live within those walls. Our homes become museums — collections of memories, both good and bad — that commemorate the time we have spent in them and the lives we have lived thus far