The title This House Is Not Home for the exhibition for me, conceptualizes the house as both a real place and a metaphor. It can be the body, the mind, a family history, a homeland, or the memories we carry with us.

As someone who left Haiti at a young age, I’ve often found myself existing between places, cultures, and versions of myself. Home becomes something difficult to locate. It is remembered, imagined, longed for, and constantly reconstructed. In that sense, the paintings are not about a specific house, but about the feeling of searching for belonging while moving through unfamiliar landscapes, both physical and psychological.

Many of the works take place in dreamlike interiors and exteriors where reality, memory, folklore, and personal history collapse into one another. Figures appear as if caught between waking and sleeping, between past and present. Rooms become stages for encounters with ancestors, spirits, desires, fears, and fragments of memory. The familiar becomes strange, and the strange begins to feel familiar.

This House Is Not Home speaks to that condition of in-betweenness. It reflects the experience of displacement, migration, and transformation, but also the possibility of creating new forms of belonging. The house in these paintings is never fixed; it shifts, fractures, and reassembles itself, much like identity itself. What remains is the ongoing search for a place, real or imagined; that can finally feel like home.