For Elena Tibbetts, architecture isn’t static—it’s alive with light, rhythm, and memory. Through her project DomoNaut, she’s spent years filming and photographing Washington’s historic homes, revealing the human stories written into their walls.

That vision culminated in the Architectural Guide of Washington, D.C., a printed extension of her poetic documentary films brought to life through a Kickstarter campaign supported by a community that shares her love of preservation and craft. Each page is composed like a scene: measured, textural, and cinematic in its stillness. The result feels less like a guide and more like an artifact—signed, wrapped, and built to last.

In this conversation, Tibbetts reflects on translating film to print, from storyboarding and material testing to pricing a large-order print run and designing for permanence. She offers a rare look at what happens when storytelling, design, and preservation converge on the page.

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What’s the story behind your career as a photographer and filmmaker, and how did DomoNaut grow out of that?

My professional path in photography began after I finished Boston University’s Digital Imaging Arts curriculum, and threw me rather haphazardly into the real estate photography niche. Since I spent my formative years traveling around Europe (I will never be able to thank my parents enough), it felt like a great fit at the time. But I was just really happy to get a paying creative gig, because those same parents assured me that it was not possible. 

Fast forward 10 years, and I had built a small real estate marketing firm offering graphic design, branding, printing, and photo and video services. I’ve always gravitated toward the historic houses I photographed, so I suggested to one of my clients to do a short video on her historic property listing, talking about the house’s architectural style, its additions and modifications, and the town of Alexandria, where the house was. 

Shot on a photography camera, with terrible sound and even worse color grading, I had a pilot. Moreover, I had a new mission—to uncover the stories of historic houses and share them with those to whom these doors were closed. Thus, the YouTube channel DomoNaut Histories was born, and I have since visited and filmed some of the most interesting addresses in the D.C. area. 

You’ve described DomoNaut as a way to preserve and share the stories behind historic places. Can you tell us more about that mission and why it matters to you?  

I think architecture is one of the most honest storytellers we have. It records our values, our craftsmanship, even our complexities, and freezes them in time. It’s essentially time travel. However, life has a tendency to get in our way, and not everyone is able to journey out to these beautiful landmarks. 

Through DomoNaut, I aim to bring an intimate, holistic experience to lovers of history and architecture that would otherwise be a physical, private tour. It works equally well for the museums, as they are able to share their story with a wider audience and bring more visitors in, which in turn leads to more funding for preservation efforts. Some of the Domo films have been used in grant proposals and donor meetings, generating generous sums for important maintenance. 

The films often stir viewers emotionally, inviting them to rediscover familiar places through little-known stories and a renewed sense of wonder. The quiet light, the textures, and the stillness all seem to pull people into another time. That sense of connection is what drives me: helping audiences experience the soul of these places, to understand them better.

Why did you decide to create Architectural Guide of Washington, D.C., and what was your main goal with the book?  

The book grew naturally out of the films. I’m fascinated by printing photography and how an image transforms when it’s taken off the screen and fixed onto paper. It’s almost a lost art, and in our digital age, I think it’s vital to keep those tactile crafts alive. There’s a permanence and honesty in print that mirrors what I love about historic architecture. 

Creating the Architectural Guide felt like a natural extension of DomoNaut’s mission, as well as a consolidation of all the wonderful landmarks in the city, all while preserving them through a medium that carries history itself. My goal was to make something timeless that people could hold, study, and return to as a printed companion to the films.

Walk us through your design and production process, from concept to layout to materials. How did you organize your workflow, make creative decisions, and translate your visual storytelling into print?

I approached the book like a film: First, I started with the concept. I began by storyboarding the landmarks I wanted to include, and that list kept growing. An incredible amount of time was spent in Google Maps and various historical archive websites. A few times I thought my list was complete, and then I would drive down a street only to discover a church I hadn’t seen before. 

For my layout, I had to consider the flow and how color, texture, and text would move from page to page. I curated imagery to create visual rhythm, balancing scale, tone, and color. In the photo gallery, larger architectural forms are paired with quiet, intimate details, and the book’s entire palette echoes D.C.’s layered character. I chose a minimalist layout by intention; I wanted the architecture and typography to breathe together, and give the book a sense of calm, curated design—almost like a museum presentation. 

Every material choice, from paper weight to cover texture, was about tactility. I wanted people to feel the craft, the way they might feel stone or wood in the real world. 

What do you hope people feel when they close the book? 

I would hope they feel that quiet awe that comes when you recognize how beauty endures: patiently, through centuries. The Guide isn’t just about buildings; it’s about the continuity between past and present, and the stories of those who came before us and created this beautiful world for us. Hidden in its pages are small invitations to slow down, to notice the craftsmanship, the light, and some well-placed easter eggs. 

In that sense, becoming a DomoNaut isn’t just about exploring architecture; it’s about learning to see differently. To walk through the world with a deeper curiosity, a reverence for time, and an awareness of how history still breathes all around us. 

What was your biggest challenge in bringing this project to life?

One of my biggest challenges was coordinating access to each landmark for photography. An important site we had on the books faced unexpected construction closures and had to back out at the last moment, and other scheduling conflicts would make visits difficult. And of course, there’s weather. 

Another hurdle was finding the right writing partner. An early collaboration fell through, but ultimately I found the ideal match in Elizabeth Reese—a public historian who works in a historic house museum in Alexandria. Her deep understanding of architectural heritage and local history made her the best partner I could have hoped for. 

I also had some challenges with printing itself, as I spent a lot of time testing how different tones and contrasts printed, and figuring out the right margins, because digital screens can be deceptive. It was definitely an exercise in restraint and patience!

From the wrapping to the signature, each copy feels collectible. What was behind that decision?

The wrapping came from my love for giving gifts, and I chose the brown postal paper (or Kraft paper) as a nod to the 19th century, when it was the standard for shipping parcels. My favorite historical excerpt about it is actually that they had shipped the Hope Diamond to the Smithsonian wrapped in only Kraft paper in the late 50s, which is unfathomable now! 

As for the handwritten notes, I had originally intended to have a signed first edition for my Kickstarter backers, but I wanted to take it a step further and add a personal touch, thanking them for their support, because it really means a lot to me that they were able to make this dream a possibility. Besides, whenever I find an old book with a note in the first pages, it snaps the past into reality. That’s what I wanted to replicate.

Why did you choose Blurb and our Large Order Services team as your printing partner, and how did that collaboration help bring your vision to life?  

I had a mentor long ago who adored printing his short stories. He used Blurb back then and encouraged me to put together a small book for an exercise. I still have it, a little hardcover 5×5 layflat picture book. 

I remembered the ease of putting it all together, and when we were researching the best self-publishing partner, Blurb (and a deep curtsy to BookWright) was ahead of the game by a long shot. 

The Large Order Services team made scaling up to a full release seamless as well; they helped me navigate materials, pricing, and logistics so I could focus entirely on creative integrity. It felt like a true collaboration between craft and production. Shout out to Dylan, who answered over a thousand of my questions and helped navigate difficult decisions.

How did you approach pricing the book?

I ran a market analysis for books similar to mine—in size, page count, and content—to price it in the same range. It’s a delicate balance, keeping the price low enough that people will buy, yet high enough to still make a small profit.

But I’m afraid that there isn’t much profit to be had. Unless I printed over 5,000 copies, I wouldn’t see more than 20 percent margins!

With the book now out in the world (and your hardcover edition already sold out!), how would you describe its success so far? And what responses have meant the most to you?

The response has honestly been humbling and spectacular. I expected architects and historians to connect with it, but what’s moved me most are everyday readers who say the book made them see D.C. differently. People have told me they’ve gone out to find the buildings themselves, to trace those quiet details they’d never noticed before. 

I’ve had multiple invitations for book signing events and was able to get copies in museums, book stores, and cultural institutions, even sold a few copies internationally (!). But the best success I could hope for is to spark curiosity and attention.  

In a digital age, why does print still matter to you, and what does holding a physical book offer that digital formats cannot?

Print is permanence. In a world of infinite scroll, a book has boundaries. It asks you to slow down. And there are only so many pages, so each one counts. 

There’s something wonderful about the weight of paper, the texture, the colors. It anchors images in reality. When someone holds this book, they’re not just consuming content—they’re entering a physical dialogue with history as well as associating a memory with this object. That matters to me deeply.

What advice would you give other creators who want to print and share their own work with the world?

I think being ruthless about your vision is the very first step. Ask yourself what the book should feel like before you think about what it should look like, because print is an emotional medium as much as a visual one. Every choice, from layout to typography to paper texture, should serve that feeling. 

And be patient with the process. Test prints are invaluable; they reveal nuances no screen ever could and help you refine your design instinct. 

Most importantly, treat your book like a living piece of art. Don’t rush it. Give it time to mature until it says exactly what you want it to say, without compromise.

And what about marketing: What’s worked best for you in getting your book seen, and what would you advise other bookmakers to try?

Storytelling first, always. My audience came from a few different visual-heavy corners of the internet, so I leaned into that. I launched a Kickstarter campaign to help fund the printing costs, and made many short behind-the-scenes videos, slow-paced reels, and honest glimpses into the creative process. 

I think people respond to authenticity and obsession more than strategy, and if your vision is backed by compelling imagery, the Kickstarter campaign has all the ingredients to succeed. And while getting bookstores and gift shops to commit to pre-orders was difficult without physical books, once I received my first proof, I could use the photos in my pitches, and that changed the response. 

My advice: Show your process, not just your product. Let people see why you care; they’ll care too.

Lastly, what projects should we be on the lookout for from you and DomoNaut?

I live in a world between the physical and the digital, and will continue bridging the gap between landmarks and people through the Architectural Guide series and films.

 I’m also currently working on a documentary that tells the story of a pioneering woman who broke barriers in the horse racing field. It’s a story about resilience, heritage, and the quiet strength of those who reshape history from the margins. 

Alongside that, the Guide series will be expanding to new cities (I’ve got my eyes on Santa Fe) and seeking out historic sites across the country. Each project, in its own way, celebrates the hidden threads that connect people, place, and memory.

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