This installation is, in a broad sense, a "mind palace", in another sense it is a "safe space." This installation holds information that tells a personal narrative about faith, abuse, broken relationships, ongoing health, grief, faith, death, healing, and restoration. This is a space that needs to be experienced by the viewer as well as seen.

The scene is set in a space that is nostalgic, referencing the interior of a 1970s house along with fabrics and comfort items that hold nostalgia for the 90s. My grandfather passed away suddenly when I was 10 and before I knew it, my first experience with death intertwined itself with my other first experiences of pain, shame, guilt, and grief. I locked this inner room up and refused to go near, fearing I couldn't handle what was inside. As a byproduct of this, I found I couldn't handle the loss of any kind and circumvented the feelings of abandonment by collecting objects that I imposed with sentimentality: a brick found from a demolished house buried in the ground, a dead sunflower my friend gave me on one of his walks, a christening dress for a child that I will never hold. Each of these seemingly inconsequential objects has a story and a memory attached, a way for me to both hold onto a person, a place, a time that isn't there, and a way to circumvent the grieving process and focus all of my emotions onto physical objects. I created personal relics to avoid addressing the roots that grew beneath.

This installation is a snapshot of a space of safety in my mind when the present becomes too much and I need a moment to hide and reset; a more structurally sound blanket fort. Slowly, my attachments and landscapes change, objects that once held so much value no longer bring about an emotional response. But it is an ongoing, everchanging process. And that is what I intend to show; a changing space for a changing mind and heart.