In 2009 my husband and I, feeling the sting of the troubled economy, uprooted our family and moved across country, with the hope that a temporary job I was taking might turn into something more permanent. Only a few days after arriving in Michigan we ended up in the hospital when a member of my immediate family was diagnosed with cancer. Things only continued to get worse and a string of unusually bad luck left us dumbfounded, wondering what else could possibly go wrong. Informed by this course of events, and with the hope of connecting the dots, I turned my camera towards my family, documenting our journey.

This new life continued to contain moments of pure joy but more often than not, hidden under a blanket of exhaustion and heartache. For close to three years, my husband and I struggled to continue to provide “normal” for the sake of our children, but in our imperfection, we often failed. The hidden truth of our recent history is subtly layered in each photograph but does not define this moment as a pictorial representation for our future. Although daily life became defined by two things I never imagined - weekly trips to the cancer center and a full-time job of trying to find a full-time job - I was determined to move beyond the moment, no matter how long it took.

The spaces we inhabit stretch further beyond the walls of our home. Our lives become comfortable when we are familiar with the roads we travel and the faces around us. In the series, Finding that Home is Neither Here nor There, the metaphorical foundation of home is kept strong through tradition and routine, when four walls no longer stand. The reality of it all is that life is fleeting and that each moment is temporary. These photographs become the record of a building block that is already underneath our feet – our foundation for the future. They also hold within them an intrinsic connection to the inevitable end of life, a moment that can come without warning, or one we dwell on for a lifetime.