Paige Christiansen

Juror's Distinction — Visual Art Studies

 

One night at dinner, my dad was telling my family a story: he was in his office on a phone call and, seeing my dog about to relieve himself in the piano room, he jumped out of his chair and took him outside. As he told this story, I couldn't help but laugh—not because my dog was about to poop on the floor (an annoying yet normal occurrence), but at the fact that my family home has a room that is solely for a piano. Coming back to visit the house I grew up in, and enjoying family dinners, daily walks, and holiday celebrations there, has made me recognize and appreciate the love I have for the people in my life and the place I grew up in. It has also reminded me, however, of the appearance of perfection this place presents, and the importance to some of maintaining the picture of an ideal family. Over the past few years, this idea that I have the perfect family—something I believed for most of my life—has been altered, replaced with a view of my family as something different and stronger in light of the many imperfections we possess. Being a visitor in this once-beloved space has created a new perspective of what my home means to me versus what it once meant, reminding me of the immense love I hold for these people in spite of the ridiculousness of this environment.

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