Home is a strange concept, a nostalgia is carried around with me that I place upon items and scenes that mimic some of the actualities of the real home for me. But apart from this there is the serious misidentifying association with film and literature that we carry in perhaps a stronger clutch than reality. It is all based upon how we feel as people and what we get from a situation. I remember when I was going through a break up a friends partner said to me, don’t underestimate how important a tv series can be, at this time you need something that you can rely upon and will be there constantly something to remind you that you are human, make you laugh and feel again, you need that right now. It is strange the differences that we go through. I had never listened to headphone music before my break up and then I had to have it everyday on the tube, walking everywhere and I would not take out the music until the last possible moment, until I was at the door of work, even as I was getting out my keys I would leave it in place. Then one day it just fell away, that need disappeared and it is odd because I knew that I needed it and I knew that it would end, but I could not change it at the time, I needed it and I accepted that.
But back to this concept of home, where is our actual home;
1. A place where one lives; a residence.
2. The physical structure within which one lives, such as a house or apartment.
3. A dwelling place together with the family or social unit that occupies it; a household.
a. An environment offering security and happiness.
b. A valued place regarded as a refuge or place of origin.
5. The place, such as a country or town, where one was born or has lived for a long period.
6. The native habitat, as of a plant or animal.
7. The place where something is discovered, founded, developed, or promoted; a source.
8. A headquarters; a home base.
So many meanings for one term, I know that myself I use the term lightly, I say home for every place that I sleep for a time being. If I am away on holiday I will say when are we going home, this is somewhere that I have only just started to stay and somewhere that I am aware that I will be leaving. But I still I name it by the word home, I will then call my parents house, home, the commune home, although I have noticed of late that as I am going there less and less it is becoming the commune more in my mind, or my studio. I am detaching myself from it and feelings that I have for it. I also find it odd that actual things from my past like the apple cake that my mum used to make, I like it, but it does not bring on any nostalgic feelings. But then watching movies with Johanna in Marseille makes me instantly feel like a child and that is something that could never have happened in my childhood. I guess that it is when we are in situations that make us feel safe and protected that is when we feel those feelings, that is why we relate so well to art and literature as it doesn’t have to be our own experiences in order to feel that we are, these paintings make me feel at home, the landscape is so alien but there is something familiar in them.