Our homes are the material biographies of our lives and the livesof past residents. Each day, we make adjustments, large or small toour surroundings. With many large events in our lives, and perhaps even national events, our living places are modified, expanded, insulated, decorated, or even sealed off and abandoned. As we create a home that suits our many needs––for a place to work, entertain, relax, teach, raise children, conduct business, sleep, eat, create, exercise, and so on––what takes shape is an increasingly personal space. The ways we use our homes are seen, felt, heard, and smelled. To see a house as a set of choices tells a story so detailed that it could be uncomfortable to let others in. Our homes describe us. We live in many configurations: individually, with regular guests, with roommates, with friends, and/or as families. Homes are nodes in these constellations of lives, sometimes connecting us to past residents or even ancestors. In a way, past residents become like family, known intimately because we have traveled the same paths down the stairs, opened the same doors, washed our hands in the same sinks many, many times. To let someone in the door of our built biographies is to take a risk. It is intriguing that we have found several welcomers that have let us in to document their homes, and I am curious about what they think we are doing.