Expat

In 1999, aged six, my father carried me through an unfamiliar airport out in the American West. My parents and I had just expatriated, and although I couldn't possibly have known it at the time, as I stared out at the baggage claim over my father’s shoulder, my picket fence childhood was about to begin, and with it, the persistent discomfort of having to stand in the no-man’s-land of national and cultural identity. Twelve years later, I would come to carry myself back through the same airport as I made the one-way journey back to England, surrendering my American residency in the process. These photographs are, in short, the half-remembered childhood memories, the unmet expectations, and the struggle of trying to assimilate back into the culture that birthed me.