Concrete sculpture, digital photograph

The house as a container; the room as containment.  What remains in a room when we move out?

Before renovation, there were outlines of old furniture visible on the floor of the rooms. I thought of the ghosts of memories present in a space. There was a bed which someone slept in, where someone dreamt, or where someone missed someone. What remains in a room when we move out?

The bedroom is an intimate place. It is where we sleep, we dream, and where we think of someone at night. I took a picture of my bed in Australia and sealed it in concrete. For me, it makes me think of home; me being in Australia, born and bred in Singapore, yet I never felt truly home anywhere at all. Rachel Whiteread cast the negative interior spaces of rooms in her monumental sculptures. I thought of the room as an intimate container of memories, worn out by time; perhaps the weathering away of memories, or the desire of memories to survive weathering of time. Breaking open the concrete sculpture would ruin the photograph cast within; the memories are best kept hidden.