Worldbuilding is the abstraction of our own reality, distorted and skewed into something (almost) entirely new. Pure, uninfluenced originality is rare, if not impossible, but worldbuilding embraces that fact. By using touchstones to our own lives, a far-fetched fantasy setting can be as familiar as an old friend. It fascinates me to look at worldbuilding from this angle, taking the grandiose, outlandish concepts and insisting that there is still a reflection of our own reality. This becomes especially apparent in the seemingly insignificant, often overlooked details found in everyday existence. There is a certain intimacy found in scuffed shoes and weathered furniture. There is comfort in such minute signs of life.
     Wander Into Sonder (You’re not from around here, are you? Well, don’t just stand there, make yourself at home) exists within a broader setting built over years, but the installation itself highlights my worldbuilding through an appreciation for its mundane. A fictional world may have a mythical pantheon or a rich, fantastical setting, but there are still connections to our own experiences through the existence of a humdrum life and a universal gratitude for simple beauties. 
     Wander Into Sonder exemplifies this balance and connection between our world and one of fiction. By repurposing used objects, I can play into the familiarity we have with these things while still making them otherworldly in their function. Bright, unconventional colors paired with familiar Western-inspired aesthetics dance along that line between the bizarre and the normal.  The immersive nature of this installation is key to its effectiveness. The audience is beckoned to lose themselves in the fiction and interact with every piece of this work. It depicts a different reality, but it is real nonetheless and that tactile connection is essential. Letting oneself be swept up in a fictional space such as this is to understand our place in the broader concept of what it means to be human, notwithstanding reality or fiction.