Such a long time since I last posted - yet things have been quietly bubbling along on the photography front. The 2014 Organic Gardener Calendar and Diary were shot earlier this year. There has been ongoing work with Martin Boetz - formerly executive chef at Longrain, now running his own farm on the Hawkesbury. There are three stories in the upcoming addition of Slow Magazine - one on Marty and another on Hillbillly cider which my good friend Jacqueline wrote and I photographed - and - so exciting - a story I wrote and supplied photographs for on 20 years... Continue reading

The last 10 days have been spent clearing out our family home in the Blue Mountains, which we sold recently and settles next week. I had underestimated the amount of work involved in sorting out 20 years of family life, including all the stuff J and I bought as a young married couple, living in London and then Hong Kong. So much stuff. We made four runs to the tip, the trailer groaning with rubbish. We gave away loads and had a garage sale. There is simply no room in our flat in Maroubra for excessive possessions and the emotions... Continue reading

My mother took beautiful photos. Her brother was a photographer. My father drew a lot when he was young. His sister is a painter, potter, weaver. Each of my 6 sisters and brothers are talented makers of different things - houses, kitchens, gardens, decoupage, tapestries and photo books. My husband can take a good photo when he is relaxed. Margot draws and sings and has an exceptional imagination. Joe is almost 14 and goes out every weekend to photograph the surf and surfers. That's him below in the dark clothes taking photos of the massive waves we had here in... Continue reading

The island remains the same. One small fishing village which is over run with tourists in the summer. Numerous chapels dotting the countryside. Goats, chickens, vineyards, olive groves. Tavernas selling ouzo. Dear dear friends. I made notes whilst I was there which I share with you here. Most days the sound of goat bells drifts across the hills, a gentle, slow tinkle. This morning the goats were being herded to another field and for many minutes there was a loud, melodic din as the bells around their necks clanked and clonked. I stood still and listened. The Greeks use their... Continue reading

There is no point hiding the fact that I seem to have mislaid my photography mojo. All week here in the mountains the days have been gloriously blue - skied, the gang gang cockatoos creaking away in the trees and the camellias blooming white at dusk. And yet my photos did not please me - or they did not quite capture the beauty I could see around me. It took a walk with my son down to the local falls to reinvigorate me. I learnt a new and important lesson. It is always a good idea to look back if... Continue reading

Good Friday. The light poured down on the boys at the skate park. And the twin boys riding on the esplanade. Tied carefully to the front of their matching bikes were their soft toys. The shadows were striking. She wore a panama and he wore a cowboy hat. They were striking too. Continue reading

The waves on the weekend were enormous, the weather wild and today was the first day I got to spend a bit of time walking near the beach. At the northern end, looking down at the rocks, I saw something - vaguely, weirdly, familiar. Something that should not have been there. To my knowledge it is only a recent addition to the rock shelves. I went home, grabbed the camera, and clambered down the rocks to have a closer look. Someone, in fact probably more than one person, at some risk to life and limb, has cemented a toilet onto... Continue reading

It is a wild and windy day here in Maroubra. So it is a perfect day to start taking photographs of the people who drink, eat, talk and laugh at our local cafe. Continue reading

I drove out West last week to do a photo shoot - our destination was Canowindra. I love long drives in the country, especially along euculypt lined narrow roads. I love spotting old corrugated iron sheds drowsing in dry paddocks. I love the huge skies. Canowindra is a small town with a curving main street. Its verandahs are edged with iron lace and the windows are leadlight. Our two day visit was spent meeting amazing people, passionate about the land and their responsibility to farm it well and carefully. Today I took the walk I have done a couple of... Continue reading

It's taken a while - a year in fact - but it is happening. The love that I feel for the mountains is now also the love that I am beginning to feel for the sea and my neighbourhood here. Maroubra is not the shiniest of suburbs. Its inhabitants are of all races and creeds. Young mothers. Old Greeks. Vietnamese. Chinese. Korean. The young men with the brown backs and the tattoos emblazoned across their shoulders. The bent old woman who walks past every day with her shopping bags. Rich. Poor. And the sea. Always the sea. For the past... Continue reading

When the mist descends in the mountains, all colour is leached from the landscape, all sounds are muffled. It is peaceful and quiet and in the summer provides sweet relief from the heat. Yesterday we arrived in mist but by late this morning it had cleared. Margot and I walked to our local lookout and gazed at the view. We listened to the kookaburras, parrots and black cockatoos. I took her back home and then continued on down Butterfly Lane - the lane she named years ago on a summer's day walk when everywhere we looked there were butterflies. There... Continue reading

Sometimes on a summer's evening here by the beach, a hazy light pours over everything. Sunlight and salt and sea spray combine to create a gorgeousness that lifts the heart. On a particularly warm night like tonight the beach is still busy with swimmers and surfers and parents dangling their children's feet in the water. Kids sit on the Cube and watch the water and laugh and ask to have their photo taken. Somewhere there in the waves is my son, swimming and swimming. He doesn't come home until the last of the hazy light has gone. Continue reading

So that is that. Another year done. 2012 was such a challenging year for many of us and for a variety of reasons. I'm mostly glad it is done with, though it is not a year I regret living through. I'm looking forward to 2013. I have no idea what it will bring.. I have no plans. I am curious to see what will come my way. I am turning 50 this year and honestly I am conflicted in how I feel about that. I do know that I would like to live my life with more energy this year... Continue reading

We live a few miles south of Bondi Beach - within spitting distance of our own long, curving stretch of sand and rock pools and an ocean that is pond like one day and angry crashing waves the next. Today I met Linda for coffee at Bondi and it was one of those Sydney summer mornings that are bluer than Margot's eyes. The water was all a- glint and glimmer, sparkling brighter than a Christmas bauble. You can't be cynical on a day like today. You embrace Bondi and understand its iconic status. You drink coffee and yarn with a... Continue reading

Today I sat in the sun eating a steak sandwich and watched my eldest son play the guitar with his band. My second son avoided us altogether as 13 year olds will. My daughter concentrated hard on painting a piece of plaster. Meanwhile in India Eden is seeing stuff that ... well just go take a look. Continue reading

Last weekend was spent in Hobart. What a beautiful city it is - surrounded by hills and nestled on the banks of the Derwent River. We stayed at perhaps the loveliest hotel I have ever been in - The Islington. On the Saturday morning we drove to the top of Mount Wellington. It was freezing cold - I only survived a couple of minutes outside the car in the wind and the icey conditions. As we drove back down the mountain the sun glimmered silver on the river. I was privileged to take the photos at a friend's wedding -... Continue reading

After several days of brilliant sunshine in the mountains it had turned cold and wet when I went to see Trish. We sat in her kitchen, drinking tea, dogs slumbering by the oil heater. We talked, as we always do, of this and that. Of important things and silly things. Her garden is blooming in all its springtime glory. She uses her artist's eye to group colours in an apparently relaxed but entirely thoughtful way. It is a steep garden and she has carved out terraces, carrying heavy loads of rock, soil and mulch up and down narrow stone stairs.... Continue reading

This is Linda. She may remind you of someone. She is beautiful. She is fit. She has worked very hard to become the person she is today. Emotionally, physically and spiritually. Continue reading

Asking people if I can take their photos is sometimes easy - and often not. Our local beach is famous, but not for all the right reasons. It is home to a group known as the Bra Boys. Some of them were at the beach today - identifiable by their tattoos. I longed to be brave enough to ask if I could take some photos - but I was overwhelmed by timidity and decided to wait for another, braver, day. These three men caught my attention instead. The fellow in the teeshirt on the right clearly is made of sterner... Continue reading

Over 20 years ago I moved from Adelaide to Sydney, the city where I was born, and a place which continues to beguile me, particularly at this jasmine scented time of year. Yet every time I go to Melbourne I am seduced again by its beauty and the relaxed warmth of its inhabitants. A brief visit this week confirmed that it is a town that continues to burrow its way into my heart. I am waiting to meet friends in Market Lane when I see this fellow quietly smoking a cigarette. I ask if I can take his photo. He... Continue reading

Reza was born in Iran in 1933. At almost 80 years of age he is slender and clear eyed. Every now and then he speaks in Persian (Farsi) with Farrah who also works in the shop. It is a musical language, soft to the ear. He remembers the streets of Tehran covered deep in snow during the winter. He remembers stories being read by the fire and dried fruit being eaten during the coldest months. There was a fire pot set up under a table covered in a blanket and he would sit at the low table with his feet... Continue reading

Eden. She trusts me to take her photo when she is vulnerable and sad. No gang signs. Just Eden. Looking at me with her fierce soul on display. There is no laugh like Eden's. Possibly no more profane mouth than hers when she is raging against injustice. "It's just fucking bullshit man." Her writing is exceptional and has made many of us laugh and cry, sometimes in the one post. This post is largely responsible for me picking up my camera again. Anything else I could write will sound mawkish and stalkerish. Read her writing instead. Continue reading

Today I got to spend 5 precious hours with Tricia. She remains in good health, her body lean and fit, her mind still acute. She will be 72 in October. We wander around her garden, which she has cleared quite dramatically - letting in more light and air for her beloved plants. We talk - our conversation ranging freely from subject to subject - all the big ones - love, life, children. We drink tea and she rolls her cigarettes deftly, smoking, talking. We talk about our failure to recognise our own beauty as young girls. "I was fifteen and... Continue reading

Today is one of those blue blue days in Sydney. I went out to look for dolphins, a pod had been spotted south of here this morning, but none were to be seen. I always feel a little odd by the sea, knowing that there are so many creatures lurking beneath the surface. I sat on a bench and pondered fear. How I spend a lot of time being, not absolutely fearful, but certainly not without fear. I thought about the word "fearless." I am not sure that it is in me to be "fearless." However I can certainly try... Continue reading

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