Ideas of home and dislocation have always been compelling to me as the child of immigrant parents who arrived in the United States as refugees. Born in Latvia and Lithuania, my parents spent many years after the end of World War II in displaced-person camps in Germany before they were allowed to emigrate to the United States. My parents’ childhood memories of “home” were of temporary structures, appropriated from other uses to house thousands of postwar refugees. These transitory spaces of mass habitation, some demolished and rebuilt over the years, have left only a vague imprint on the earth. I have been retracing this history by conducting research in the Lithuanian and Latvian Archives which has enabled me to visit and document 11 former US zoned campsites in Germany (Esslingen, Würzburg, Hanau, Augsburg, Fischbach, Eichstatt, Kempten, Bayreuth, Seligenstadt, Hersbruck and Memmingen) “Temporal Displacement” consist of layered laser cut pigment printed photographs. The words that are cut out of the images are direct transcriptions of letters the refugee’s were sending out all over the world calling for aide. My family’s displacement, which I am re-imagining and restoring in this body of work, is part of a long history of uprooted peoples for whom the idea of “home” is contingent, in flux, without permanent definition and undermined by political agendas beyond their control.