My first experience of architecture, a nearly universal case, was that of the house I grew up in. A century old, black & white clapboard farmhouse out- side of Kingston, Ontario was where I called home. Having grown up and left it behind, I find I have developed a certain amount of nostalgia or home- sickness regarding my mostly positive memories and recurring dreams that take place there. The house is not lost, in fact my parents still live there, and I return several times each year to retrace my childhood rituals, sleep in my old room, dream in my old bed, eat, play and reminisce in my old home.I can return to my home, but not my childhood, and yet the two seem inseparable. This space houses my dreams and memories of childhood; floorboards, doorknobs, and wallpaper are all triggers for recollection, the ornamentation of the home is a connective entity into my past.As my parents grow older, they are finding they don’t want to be so isolated, alone in a house too big for just the two of them. The possibility of them selling the house looms heavily on my mind. I don’t want to lose this special place.This is a study of the way in which an individual becomes bound to architecture, psychologically and physically, using the home to which I feel so connected as a guide.I’ve grown apart from my house in the years since I moved out, and much of the connection has been broken. In place of this connection, at my return, there is a certain sense of the unfamiliar in this familiar space.How can I make this intangible connection both apparent and relevant to someone else?
PDF
download
878987797
028-85220240
