Truth, above all things.

If I were to edit a photo, this is how I would edit it. Black, white, desaturated, filters….

It’s emotive, maybe? It’s pretty, I like it.

But, those layers… they’re like onion skins. They conceal a lot. They show a version of the truth, sometimes a vision of what I see, rather than what is there… And sometimes it is protection. I don’t know what “style” of photography is “mine”…

At the moment, I am trying to strip back some of the layers in life and with the camera. I am actually quite happy at present – I made it up a level in derby, I have a happy and healthy son at school, things are well with the spouse, there have been many babies born this year and more to come (yay!) – the year is filled with promise. I still speak rashly, unwisely, insipidly and slip in the same banal topics that are floating in my head… Errors. Gosh. To not make so many rash errors in 2011 would be an ace goal.

So as I strip the layers, I acknowledge that I am doing my best, that I am not perfect, that I will try my best again the next day. I am growing stronger, I am building foundations, I am actively working on being comfortable in this (slightly) saggy skin of mine.  I agonise over being in this moment in this day and realise that I cannot be mindful every moment of the day. I will make errors.

And that’s the truth, above all things.

As they are.

A n d   I ‘ m   o k a y   w i t h   t h a t .

Mama-ing

The light was divine.

I literally threw the camera to my partner and told him to take photos of the boy and I.

This is us.

I want to remember from this day:

  • The fact that the boy was adamant about not going to the beach, because of how much he hates it.
  • That when we went in the water, 1.5 hours elapsed quickly. It was only the sound of rolling thunder that tore the boy from the embrace of the ocean.
  • That it was truly a good day.

Recently

Brisbane has flooded, if you didn’t know that, you’ve been under a rock.

We’ve been safe and high and dry – life in this corner of the universe is as close to normal as you can get.

I have lived in Brisbane my entire life – I love it here and the places, people, sights and issues are part of me. The city is an extension of my soul. Brisbane isn’t big, it only has 2 million people. After our whirlwind visit to Melbourne and Sydney, coming home felt like a breath of fresh air. I cannot describe how special this place is to live. Everyone knows someone – we are connected by less than two degrees. Imagine having less than two degrees of separation between you and your state leader, doctors, teachers, astronauts and more… Which means, of course, that we are a strong community, parochial as all heck and…. and the flood has hit the psyche hard.  No-one really thought the flooding would happen again – we have a flood mitigation dam. So seeing Brisbane as a grey-tinged battlefield is painful. Driving through streets piled 6 foot high with junk – which last week were someone’s special possessions – digs deep and hurts. It’s not just the individuals affected by the flooding that hurt, it is the whole community.

I took photos of the river in full flood, but haven’t picked up my camera in the aftermath. It feels private. It is intense. No-one can truly understand what it is like until you see it first hand, or that’s how I feel. Realising that in people’s homes, popular and expensive suburbs, that the water had to rise over 8 metres to do the damage it has done is challenging. I still cannot fully grasp the magnitude and the devastation that my beloved river has caused.

I’ve wanted to help clean up, and finally scored an opportunity to do a really hideous job yesterday that I shall not be detailing to my mama, lest she worry…. It was the afternoon by the time we could help and finding somewhere to assist was hard. Groups of strangers have been knocking on doors offering to do the most disgusting jobs – mopping out sewerage tainted buildings, disinfecting and tossing out rubbish. If people cannot help, generally if they have children, then they make and bring food – there are literally hundreds of strangers supplying food and water to the workers.

It is humbling and raw. I am so fortunate to live in this community.

And that’s one of the reasons that I love Brisbane.