The Veil is Thin

The Veil is Thin weaves the tale of my tangible phantasmagoric experience inhabiting my family’s multi-generational, abandoned New England home.

For years, this house was an unaddressed, silent member of my family. It had a spirit of its own. Footsteps echoed through the cold halls as we fitfully slept, objects turned up in unexpected places, and the walls slowly drove my grandmother mad. We never discussed it with each other, fearing that speaking the words aloud would turn something we hoped was our imaginations into reality.

When the last inhabitant had moved on from this realm, I had the chance to spend time with this neglected family member before the land was bulldozed. I spent my days photographing the space between myself and the house; capturing its shadow, its land, and its will to be seen. 

For the first time, I turned my camera towards the constant feeling of being watched. I offered my body to the madness of the house, performing rituals and sleeping only in full moonlight or sunlight to induce the true meaning of the word lunacy. As the line between the world of the waking and the realm of dreams fell away, the space in-between widened. The result is an exploration of the infra thin moments where the magic of the afterlife quietly collides with the fear of inexplicable noises in the dark and shapes that flit in the periphery. 

The veil is thin, we are between worlds is an incantation used in pagan ritual to denote the lifting of the veil over our eyes, giving the speaker the ability to see through the clouds of this world and into the next. Celtic folklore links places where the veil thins to crossroads and moments of change. My last night in the house was the night of the full blood moon eclipse. The tides rose to the driveway, as if the house was protesting my departure and its own demise.