Creating this series felt like sifting through a fever dream with no clear beginning or end. The title Carousel of Oddities nods to the uncanny, but this work is not solely about darkness. It’s about the tension between delight and discomfort, nostalgia and absurdity.

It’s about the human impulse to collect, to curate, to create meaning from chaos. The House on the Rock is a monument to that impulse—exuberant, obsessive, and strangely moving.

I didn’t set out to capture everything. Instead, I walked slowly. I looked for quiet gestures in loud rooms: the tilt of a mannequin’s head, the way light fell on a forgotten display, the symmetry in clutter. I let instinct guide me—toward what felt emotionally charged, visually strange, or unexpectedly tender. Some scenes were eerie. Others were oddly joyful. Many were both.

These photographs are not meant to explain the House—they’re meant to evoke it. To offer glimpses into a world where fantasy and decay (and dust!) coexist. Each image was chosen not for shock, but for resonance. Together, they form a visual poem about collection, illusion, and the strange beauty of spaces built to astonish.

All photos were taken using my iPhone 16 Pro. Editing is where the photograph becomes mine, where I coax out the mood, the memory, the moment that made me pause. After shooting, I sit with each image and listen to what it’s trying to say. Using Adobe tools, I make changes—not to perfect the photo, but to shape its emotional tone. A deepened shadow adds mystery. A softened highlight evokes nostalgia. Sometimes I crop to isolate a gesture or capture an emotion. Sometimes I shift contrast to make the quiet parts speak louder. Sometimes I do all of these and sometimes I do very little.

I don’t edit to correct reality—I edit to curate it. Especially with a subject like House on the Rock, where visual chaos is part of the charm, editing helps me find clarity in the clutter. It’s how I pause the noise and guide the viewer toward the story I felt in that moment.

For me, editing is instinctive and meditative. It’s the final layer of storytelling—where my point-of-view infiltrates reality.