A house called the Tit

I made these images during the final 50 days of college of my daily life and the people I love to encapsulate our last moments. Together, over these four years, we helped each other become ourselves. Through messiness, depression, sexual exploration, loss, breakups, and a pandemic we found love and safety. It was exactly like a senior year of college should be and also none at all. A single exposure isolated us from each other for two weeks. Two weeks were taken from what already felt like limited time. There were moments of final hungover bagels, dancing to musicals and getting high to watch reality TV. Then there were other moments where we were so deep into our drama where every small annoyance, a pile of dirty dishes and the unsolvable ant infestation felt like a great reckoning. Our classes, meals, parties and jobs all happened from home. We cherished and reminisced loudly as we grumbled and gossiped quietly. There were no grandiose final week events or class-wide celebrations. It was all small moments with the same small groups. And then in a final breathless sprint, it was all over. Now we wake up once again scattered all across the United States in homes and with families who for as earnestly as they may try don't understand nor accept who we are becoming. I used photography as a way to start to process these huge changes, to cherish ourselves, and to say goodbye.