"Arriving at each new city, the traveller finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: The foreignness of what you no longer are or nor longer poses lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places… " (Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities)
Hotel rooms are generally weird places, charged with both loneliness and desire. They give the appearance of comfort but offer none of the relief of a real home and ultimately belong to no one. This contradictory aspect of travel, our desire to find a home in the far away and distant lands we escape to in order to get away from home, is at the heart of the series A Room for the Night.
Traveling to different hotels around the world, I secretly make and photograph temporary sculptural assemblages out of the furniture and objects found in each room. Working mostly at night, furniture is stacked, leaned and balanced in configurations that often verge on the point of collapse. After these “sculptures” are photographed the room is carefully placed back in its original condition.
Combining formal rigor with a mischievous blend of humor and art historical reference, the photographs portray the tension and vulnerability of staying in an unfamiliar place. They examine our uneasy relationship with hotels as temporary homes, and depict the loneliness which accompanies the experience of modern travel.