In 2017 I started exploring webcam-based chatrooms as a tool for direct access into the homes of people throughout the world. As I acclimated to the virtual community, I began to ask these anonymous users for a view of their room, uninterrupted by the human form. The response was almost always a “no,” followed by minutely varying monologues of how inappropriate it would be to share such personal content with a stranger. The idea that the ones space was considered more representative of one’s identity, and consequentially more private than their physical body deeply intrigued me.

The following months I spent on Chatroulette — perhaps the most well-known of the anonymous video chatting websites — I was shot through space and time at a rapid pace, and placed inside countless bedrooms, offices, bus stops, military bases, gardens, and any and all environments in between alongside the users physically inhabiting them. As I became savvier at speaking to users, I began to ask for tours of their space and we would collaborate to organize frames while I collected screenshots.

Quickly becoming obsessed with the hunt, my days were spent trying to gain the trust of strangers half a world away, to be allowed access into their most private of spaces.