A house is not just a place you call home or a place that has four walls and a roof. It’s more than that, what is the real meaning of being home? No one can break it down for us. We can fantasize about it or build one in our minds. We can stay overnight but where do we really call a place our home? To me, I like my house to be where I can be comfortable and happy. Our house is a place where we are allowed to be whoever or whatever we want. We can express ourselves without any difficulties.

In a city of flowers there is our house 

Panasonic Telephone, recorder repeater 

Sound Art 

My house is a small apartment with a smaller family in the Silicon Valley of India. approximately three kilometres away there exists another house where the plants are eternally thriving and the linens are ironed to a crisp. This city holds eighteen years of my precious memories. The following artwork is an audio based work that plays through a telephone. The instrument itself is a replica of the original phone in my house. The audio is recorded sounds from the apartment mentioned above. This includes clippings from All India Radio, a cat’s purr, distant highway traffic, the drums of celebrations on the street, the pride of belonging to Bangalore, laughter from lifelong friends, and the voice of my mother, the person who makes the house a home. As an international student, phone calls have become the best part of my day. To be able to call home and listen to the sounds of Bangalore is the best therapy. Phone calls have never meant so much before. I never imagined they would.