A grandfather I barely knew died in September — a man whose mistakes decades ago fractured an entire family. He died just months after my last photo of him, following 12 years without contact.

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Sua casa, mia is a portrait of my mother's family and her hometown in rural Italy. A place holding my fondest summer-memories while also holding pain, trauma and silence buried within family dynamics. 

But there's a missing piece: nonna Maria, the only glue keeping us together.

 

Sua casa, mia retraces memories as new ones are born, attempting to document and understand this place in her absence after cancer took her when I was 17. Since then, our family fractured again and we try to rebuild what it means to be a family.