everyone who lives in london knows that looking for a flat is a nightmare you wouldn't want your biggest enemies to have.
it's a wild wild west, with evil lettings agents with guns and shoe boxes dressed up as flats.
if i loose and evil agents win - there's even no option for squatting anymore. in the crisis time, with more and more young people without work, the genius government decides to make squatting illegal, yeah, let's have even more empty properties and homeless people.
this is a project i did long time ago and to look through it is a nice distraction from my tired-of-agents-and-guns brains.
it's called expired homes and deals with an idea of home, of what makes building a home.
taking those photos i was looking closely at the phenomenon of squatting, not in sociological, nor political way, but in the means of a personal experience and an in-depth examination of emotions connected with it.
i was (still am) asking question about photography as a carrier of memories, an indefatigable carrier of parts of ourselves, of our worlds which do not exist any more.
