This topic has always been sensitive in my family. My great-grandfather’s home was destroyed twice during dekulakization — the Soviet campaign of political repression. After I was born, my mom and I were forced to move twice, in 2000 and 2019, for safety reasons. I left my country in 2022 after Russia invaded Ukraine and have not returned since.
The ongoing project explores different edges of feeling at home, losing home, and trying to find one. I interviewed my friends from Russia and Ukraine, most of whom moved after the start of the full-scale war, and captured them in their current apartments abroad with the objects that help create the ephemeral sensation of being at home. In the end, the objects turned out to be just a thread that helped untangle something deeper and much more complex.
The aim of Dom is not to compare the stories, but to delve into the definition of home and its multiple layers and find answers to the questions that have remained central within me since my childhood — and now, have become even more crucial.
Recently, I added another layer to the project. For safety reasons, I began covering my subjects’ faces with threads, which function both as protection and as a visual metaphor. There is an expression “to sew someone’s mouth shut,” meaning to silence a person. This echoes the fragile boundary between protection, self-censorship, and vulnerability.