Of an entire house, memory sometimes preserves only the window, and the light that enters through it.

The Window to the Past is painted from memory, based on the grandmother’s house: an old wooden frame with gently peeling paint, a curtain, wildflowers in a jar instead of a vase, two apples left on the windowsill. Nothing here was copied from a photograph. Everything was reconstructed from the feeling of that summer.

The light enters from the side and fills the glass with different shades of green, while the windowsill itself remains in shadow and, for that reason, appears more real than what lies beyond the window. Memory decides what remains in focus, while the house in the background recedes into the haze.

“The house we were born in is more than a body of images; it is also a body of dreams.”
— Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space