The early years of my life were profoundly shaped by the 2008 financial crisis, rendering home a space in perpetual construction where gestures of domesticity bind experiences. The continuous act of moving during this time has created subtle yet significant distinctions between each residence, blurring the lines between past and present. Each new home has become a repository of memories and sentiments that lie dormant until rediscovered through archival images.

In my series “i only remember having forgotten,” I explore how memories and traumas are embodied within domestic spaces. I physically reinstall large-scale photographs taken by my father between 2006 and 2009, capturing houses that his construction company struggled to finish. Printed at life size, these images are reintroduced into my current apartment, staging scenes that blur the boundaries between physical thresholds and the edges of photographic prints, thereby disrupting the inherent reality of the space.

Doorways lead to exterior areas that do not exist, while interior rooms envelop the viewer, creating a narrative that unfolds through the process of physical rebuilding. Revealing the final image as a representation of a layered history rather than a linear one.