A Home Only without Me

A narrative played through the silence of domestic objects.

A family lived here. Then they didn't.

What they left behind is still waiting to be found.

Physical Interactive Game

DOLL HOUSE INSTALLATION

轮回流转,万物通灵;
万物是我,
而我只困于人体的囚牢,触不及星河

All things cycle in reincarnation, all things are alive with spirit; everything is me, yet I am trapped in the cage of a human body, unable to reach the stars——

"A Home Only without Me" is an interactive narrative physical game installation based on a magical realist family tragedy, also functioning as a half-room spatial narrative. Participants step into the role of investigators, entering a room to explore and uncover the truth within miniature family scenes hidden inside a refrigerator and a television casing. The story revolves around fish scale disease, family intergenerational inheritance, and reincarnation. Through environmental storytelling and interactive mechanics, they enter this world—and only upon leaving the room do they truly engage with the narrative, becoming part of its closed loop. No character physically exists in the space. When no one is present, who are we observing, and who is observing us? Within an unremarkable trash can lie hidden, whispered secrets: when we step away from anthropocentrism, does tragedy still remain tragedy?


My Approach

A spatial narrative installation where investigators uncover a family's generational curse by exploring miniature scenes hidden inside domestic objects and leave as part of the story themselves.

Gallery

Document

  • "It looks like a water burial, but it is not. With his back turned to us, he walks resolutely toward rebirth."

    —The Little Girl

  • "efore I do it, I walk through every room. My husband in front of the television. My son in the study — already gone, in his own way. My granddaughter, asleep. I look at all of it. Then I look again. I look again..."

    —The Grandmother

  • "It was us. We did it. The family. Then we put him in the water. I'm a fisherman. Everything returns to the water, in the end. That's all it was. That's all it was."

    —The Grandfather

  • "They come back. The texts say they come back and I — I always assumed the texts were... No, this is impossible. I... I understand now."

    —The Father

  • You came here. I wonder if this is your first time — or if some part of you already knew the way in. We have all passed through here. Some as people. Some as other things. Which one are you, this time?