Being far from home makes you notice the small pieces of it you carry inside.
Stories of Faces and Distant Places began with a simple question: What do you miss about home? I asked people who, like me, had come from somewhere else. Their answers were often found in small things. A familiar habit. A particular place. Food, language, people, or moments that seemed ordinary until distance gave them another kind of weight.
Each portrait became part of a conversation about what remains with us after we leave. As I listened to their stories, I became interested in the relationship between a person's face and the place they now inhabit, and in the ways identity can exist somewhere between where we come from and where we find ourselves.
For this series, I worked with Polaroid 600 black and white film for the first time. I was drawn to its unpredictability and to the small imperfections that emerged through the process. I also experimented with manual emulsion lifts, peeling away the photographic layer from the original Polaroid and layering portraits over images of the environments where we spent time together. The resulting images merge face and place, allowing one to exist within the other. The process became a visual reflection of the conversations behind the photographs: fragments of memory carried forward, new surroundings layered over old ones, and identities that continue to shift as we move through unfamiliar places.
Looking back, this project became the beginning of a larger conversation for me. It was through these encounters, and through listening to how others made sense of distance and belonging, that I began to recognize my own questions in theirs. Those reflections eventually continued into A Place Where Home Lives On, where I turned inward and tried to make sense of what those conversations had left with me.
This is Emman from Parañaque, Philippines. It's been nine months since he moved in Mississauga, but his heart still aches for home, especially for his three furbabies: Penny, a senior female dachshund, and Sol and Luna, female Aspins (Philippine local mixed breeds). He said they're being taken care of by his parents and in-laws, and he's saving up to eventually bring them here.
Even now, he still keeps their routine on his phone like reminders to let them out and their feeding schedule. Those little alarms have become his way of holding onto their presence. He said even though they're far away, they're never far from his mind, and he looks forward to the day when he can be reunited with them once more.
This is Paul, a drama actor from Kharkiv, Ukraine. Following the invasion, he moved to Germany where he spent eight months seeking new opportunities. He then eventually made his way here in Canada, but as he puts it, "Now I'm just trying to survive. That's it." When I asked him what he missed most about home, he paused to collect his thoughts, took a deep breath and said, "I miss the feeling of being myself."
Paul adds that back home in Ukraine, he had always planned to leave and start a life somewhere else. But he never imagined what it would feel like to be far from the community that once surrounded him, and his language that allowed him to express himself fully. Even as he navigates this new path now, the feeling of being lost still lingers, like wearing a skin that doesn't quite fit, as he puts it.
At the end of our beautiful and honest conversation, he told me that it's not just about getting by. It's about finding yourself again in a place that doesn't quite feel like home yet. With every conversation, every small step, Paul is crawling out of the darkness and learning to stand again. The loneliness, the language barrier, they've made him feel like he doesn't exist, much like a ghost at times, he said. But through it all, he holds onto the memories of home, his family and his community, like echoes that remind him of who he truly is.
This is Luiza, a photographer from Brazil, living in Etobicoke for the past nine months. She's here in Canada to study, to grow, and to explore new paths in media communications, combining her love for photography with design, video, and writing. But even as she pursues her goals, the pull of home is undeniable. She told me that she misses her friends and her family. "Recently, I printed photos of them and put them on my wall so I can see them when I wake up," she said. Aside from her loved ones, she's also been missing the comfort of authentic Brazilian food.
Luiza is eagerly waiting for the end of the year, when she can finally reunite with her loved ones and enjoy the familiar, comforting flavours of home that she's been longing for.
This is Bimurta, a security guard from Bangladesh, currently living in Scarborough. He's been in Canada for just over a year, embracing the new rhythms of his surroundings while holding onto memories of home. When I asked him what he misses most about home, he shared, "The simplicity, the birds, the dogs, and the wind." It's the small moments, he said, that pull him back to the places that shaped him.
Outside of work, Bimurta is a talented musician and he enjoys listening to metal music. He finds refuge in his guitar. With every note, he carves out a space for himself, connecting with his past while creating something new.
This is Juan, an international Media Communications student at Humber Polytechnic and a sports journalist living in Mississauga. Born and raised in Venezuela, he later moved to Colombia for his studies before settling here in Canada just over a year ago. When I asked him what he misses most about home, he shared, "About Venezuela, I miss being out with my closest friends. It's been seven years since I last visited, and so much has changed. I also miss spending time with my family. I lost two grandparents in the past year, and that has made me miss home even more."
From Colombia, it's his parents and Otto, his seven-year-old pug, that he longs for the most. He told me that Otto brought so much joy into their lives. Juan remembers how Otto used to sleep on his bed, snoring softly while resting his head on the corner of his pillow. Even the little quirks, like waking up to the sound of him licking his paw in the middle of the night have become cherished memories. Knowing this made me miss my own furbabies too back home in the Philippines.
For Juan, home is stitched together with these quiet, ordinary moments—a reminder that even the smallest details can hold the deepest love.