After my granddad passed away, his house — the one I practically grew up in — is about to be sold. That means all those childhood memories will be gone too. You know how it goes — you spot a crack in the wall and suddenly you're back to being a five-year-old, sunlight streaming through lace curtains, mom downstairs flipping pancakes, and a plan for an afternoon banya.
Working on this project led me down a rabbit hole online, searching for the same wool blanket, the tapestry hanging over the bed, and even the shape of the bottle that aged our homemade wine. But with details of the house came the memories of details of my grandfather — his big hands, his wool sweater, the way he waved his leg when he was laying and reading his war books after dinner.
Maybe I don't really care about losing our house and material stuff, but I really care about losing him.
Maybe this is my last shot at recreating not just the place but the essence of him in my mind.
The unexpected bonus of working in 3D space, I guess.
