Like an unfinished child's drawing floating on a blank page, the key house levitates above our heads, ungrounded, uprooted from any surroundings.

No path, apple tree nor green lawn. No curtain-dressed windows, no chimney billowing smoke nor painted front door.

Instead a set of ladders offers the invitation to inhabit this unlikely structure. An experience to be undertaken individually, a tentative approach seems to be the only option. 

A misjudged movement, even an unmeasured exhalation might be enough to shatter this quietly solid apparition.

As you climb higher, the structure begins to enclose you. A childhood hiding place- head obscured, yet body exposed. The house provides protection, an escape, an alternative perspective. The home as a haven, where you can lock the doors and forget about the outside world. Or the house as a cage, a suffocating, isolating place.