In the past 30 years, little has changed in my grandparents’ home.
There is no other place that is so deeply rooted in my consciousness. It acts as a capsule where I can revert to my childhood innocence and curiosity but also become painfully aware of the passage of time.
This series shows snippets of a preserved life, coming close to the end. Plastic flowers in an antique vase adorning the entrance hallway, a candy bowl hidden behind the blinds that secretly stored sweets for me when I was a child, a framed photo of my grandparents before they got married accompanied by an icon of St. Mary and baby Jesus that was received as an inheritance, a travel journal covering 14 years, and a corner of the bookshelf, so carefully filled to the brim by my late bibliophile grandfather are some of the objects that construct this emotional oasis.
It is a testament to one’s life, and the lingering impact it has on their surroundings and heritage.