Years later, I began to leave. At first for work, then for curiosity, and eventually because movement had become natural. I lived in cities where I was unknown, carrying only what I could fit in a suitcase. I learned the excitement of arrival and the quiet that follows, when the novelty fades, and life becomes ordinary again. For a long time, I thought that freedom meant being able to go anywhere. But the more I moved, the more I began to notice those who had chosen to remain, and the different kind of freedom that comes from staying.
Project Home grew from this attention. It began as a way to document what home means for different people, through photographs and conversations. A shepherd who never left his land. Families rooted in the same place for generations. Photographers who built their work around their idea of belonging. Over time, it also became something else: a space for my own essays, and for a more personal exploration of what it means to feel at home in one’s work, in one’s relationships, and in oneself.
Today, Project Home moves between these directions. It is still a documentation of others, but also a reflection inwards.
Photography remains at its center, together with writing and conversations with artists whose lives and work circle around the same question. Not to define home once and for all, but to observe how it changes, and how we change with it.
— F