The Book of the Homeless, edited by Edith Wharton in 1916, was a fundraising effort to help refugees and children in Europe during the First World War. It was Wharton’s idea to ask artists, writers and poets to contribute an original piece. At this time Wharton had already written nine novels and would go on to become the first female Pulitzer Prize winner, in 1921. Her literary success and influence allowed her to approach her good friend Henry James as well as Walter Gay, John Singer Sargent, Rupert Brooke, Thomas Hardy, Igor Stravinsky, WB Yeats, and 50 other writers and artists. In the same spirit, and inspired by a new book published by Rizzoli: Home: A Celebration, Notable Voices Reflect on the Meaning of Home, we asked contributors to share their interpretation of home, its meaning and importance. First up, photographer Simon Watson …

I am a photographer and, not unlike an electron, I am almost always in a constant state of motion, and so probably about half my life has been spent in places that aren’t my home. In fact, I am frequently thousands of miles away from it. I love travelling. It has formed me and educated me – I still get giddy when I’m packing my suitcase. But oddly, when I’m away, I think of my home and my life there; I miss it and long to return to it. And so, I think I am happiest at home. It’s where I have everything: my family, my belongings, my stuff – the things that I have collected over the course of my life and my many travels. I need my stuff. I connect with it. I suppose we can’t really connect with nothingness, or emptiness. I think that in order for us to advance and be creative as a society we need to be surrounded by art and beauty, and of course, by the people we love.

To feel comfortable, to be amongst the things we have collected over our lifetimes is to hold memories close and to feel a connection with the past. For me it creates a feeling of security. Light, objects, memory, and love are the ingredients needed to create such a place. I confess I could never be a monk. I need my house, my things, my art. I need beauty in my life – for a creative person it is vital. These “things” are like talismans collected over time; they are protective and comforting. Of course, I could live without them, and indeed it is often necessary to do so and find inspiration elsewhere; but these elements help me to thrive and to grow. I suppose in some way they echo my past memories and remind me of experiences that collectively amount to a life.

Photographs by Simon Watson.