“Thus, an immense cosmic house is a potential of every dream of houses. Winds radiate from its center and gulls fly from its windows. A house that is as dynamic as this allows the poet to inhabit the universe. Or, to put it differently, the universe comes to inhabit his house.” --- Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

I am trying very hard to find a new home. I am trying very hard to be self-actualized and helpful to myself and others. I am trying very hard to tune into the way my body absorbs knowledge from the world and interactions around me, to understand why my gut tells me certain things and why my brain gets sad in the winter (and other times of year.) I am trying to let my mind function in a way that is gentle and genuine and growing, when feelings and emotions are too too overwhelming and adult life in a white supremacist capitalist patriarchy seems too too impossible and scary. I am trying to keep myself close to what I don’t quite understand, but know is Important and Ruling. As my (second, third, fourth) childhood home is in the process of changing, I am trying to teach myself that home is temporary and fluid. Home is found in the embrace and support of my queer/woman-identifying friends. Home is reminding myself and others to take care of themselves, to find comfort. Home is internal, uncertain, supernatural, radiating with energy from the inside out.

Transparent fabrics form the walls of Magic Houses, built by using the friendships closest to me and multiple exposure. These images act as documentation of quick, informal, performance-esque happenings, and depict the shape and substance of the home morphing through time and space. They are literally built within the arms of myself and the women closest to me.