The story of a photographer


I went to 13 different schools growing up.

Some I remember clearly. Others are a little blurry. I don't have a school photo from every school and I couldn't tell you exactly how old I was in some of my memories, or even put them all in the right order.

There aren't many photographs of my childhood in general. And of the ones I do have, some don't have a memory attached to them anymore.


Maybe that's why I've always valued photographs so much.


A photograph is a still memory. A tiny piece of a person, a place and a time that existed once and won't ever exist in quite the same way again. And sometimes, long after our own memories have faded, the photograph is still there for the people who come after us.


Over the years I've photographed families for all sorts of reasons.


I've photographed someone who knew they were terminally ill but hadn't yet told their family. They simply wanted photographs of everyone happy together before life changed.


I've photographed four generations together, only to learn a week later that the great-grandmother had passed away.

And I've photographed some families again and again — watching little kids become big kids, families grow and parents and grandparents get a little older each time I see them.


I've laughed out loud while editing photographs. I've cried over them too, especially when I know the story behind what I'm looking at.


But most of the time, they're not big moments at all.


They're ordinary days.


And I think I've come to realise that those are often the photographs that become the most important.


Photography has been part of my life for a long time, and now it gets to become part of another place I love — our farm.

Bowen Flower Farm gives me 300 acres of ever-changing places to photograph. There are rows of flowers and open paddocks, gum trees, cattle yards and dirt tracks. There's a tea tree swamp, long grass, dams, big skies and beautiful golden North Queensland light.


Somewhere out there is a place that will feel like you.


And it doesn't have to be perfect. Neither do you.


Come with the kids. Bring your partner, your parents, your grandparents or just yourself. Wear the good dress or come barefoot. Pick flowers, wander through the paddock, sit under a gum tree or let the kids run.


We'll make photographs of whatever this season of your life looks like.


Because memories belong to the individual.


Photographs are how we share them.