I grew up in a house in the countryside and would lie awake at night listening to mice scurrying about in the wall cavities. The house, my mother told me, was haunted and as a child the sound filled me with terror. Headspace was an installation in which I altered the shape of a room by building a horizontal section a little lower than head height. Two holes enabled visitors to stand with their heads inside the awkward, dark space containing nothing but the sound of rodents scurrying and scratching. Headspace recreated sounds and sensations familiar to my childhood experience of being unsettled. I was interested to observe whether the work resonated with others' experiences.