A House, Once Home is a series on the fragility of memory and the quiet erosion of childhood. In these images, the house stands as both a vessel and a ghost—a place that once cradled innocence, now left to decay. Once filled with warmth and wonder, it now bears the weight of absence, its broken windows and peeling walls whispering of time’s relentless passage.

Walls that once echoed with laughter now hold only silence. Cracks creep along the foundation like forgotten fears, empty windows stare outward like unanswered questions. Dust settles where there was once movement, light, and life. This home—no longer what it was—mirrors the transformation of childhood into memory, a tender ruin tucked away in the recesses of the mind.

Through the soft, dreamlike haze of the Holga, these images capture the slow unraveling of youth, the inevitable shedding of simplicity for the weight of experience. Each wooden panel and creeping weed speaks to what we leave behind—not just physical spaces but the emotional landscapes that shaped us.

A House, Once Home is an invitation to pause, to remember, to mourn. But it is also a reminder: childhood is never truly lost. It lingers within us, reshaped by time, just as this house still stands—weathered but enduring, filled with the echoes of all it once held.

Shot On Holga 120mm Medium Format Film | 8x10 in | Archival Pigment Prints