Archive for the 'On Mortality' Category

• 30.07.10 Carry Me Away
  

  Carry me away
  Let me float
  or don’t let me down gently

  
  
• 26.06.10 So Down
  

  So down

  
  
• 05.06.10 Nobody But The Trees
  

  Just you and I
  and us
  and them
  lost together.

  
  
• 22.05.10 For a Little While
  

  It doesn’t last long
  But for that little while
  It doesn’t hurt to be alive

  
  
• 06.03.10 Life in Damp Places
  

  A butterfly or a moth
  A mouse or a rat
  Life in damp places
  Life lived uphill

  
  
• 02.03.10 Let the Light Touch You
  

  Passively drifting
  Glowing
  Existing
  Let the light touch you

  
  
• 02.03.10 A Bit Like My Mind
  

  Walking a forever staircase
  Happiness sits far away
  Forwards to the other side?
  A bit like my mind

  
  
• 31.01.10 Release Me
  

  Release me
  To a cemetery playground
  Where night seeps from the ground
  Rain disarms the ashes

  
  
• 12.01.10 Kia Ora
  

  I have put together a book of the series I worked on last year while staying in my grandparents’ house. I named it Kia Ora, after the street in which the house resides.

  
  
• 21.11.09 This Far
  

  Every time I read about somebody with depression,
  they say how if it was not for their
  partner/their kids/their friends/their pet,
  they would not have made it this far.

  
  
• 30.10.09 Same Old Rage
  

  I like to tell myself that I don’t really hope for chaos.
  It seems an immoral thought to wish for mayhem.
  But with it comes excitement.
  A shot of adrenalin to temporarily cure any depression.
  It’s this I crave.

  
  
• 18.09.09 Urge To Live
  

  I always get an urge to stop the car when I see roadkill. Sometimes to move the animal to save it from endless tyres. But often I don’t really know why. Society today seems to shield us from being face to face with death, yet we’re exposed to so much more from a distance.

  
  
• 02.09.09 Eighteen Months
  

  In order for life to continue, life must be consumed. At the top of the food chain, our closet of skeletons is the biggest of all. The progression of mankind is the result of a history of violence. Our intelligence is thanks to murder.

  It’s hard for many to accept that a mosquito has no higher [...]

  
  
• 06.08.09 The House That Neville Built – Part 2
  

  I don’t have many vivid memories of my grandfather. I sometimes wonder if I had photographed him, would it feel different to look at the pictures? Would I feel more connected?

  Even seeing myself in images as a child, I don’t feel a sense of familiarity. So it seems like a struggle to feel familiar with [...]

  
  
• 12.06.09 White Wreath Day
  

  I had the date marked in my calendar well in advance. I had to ensure I actually remembered to check a calendar so that I could be reminded. I felt like a part of me would chicken out. I felt like for some reason I wouldn’t belong.

  I didn’t know why I felt it was so [...]

  
  
• 14.05.09 Please Don’t Pray For My Soul
  

  I find cemeteries peaceful. I’m often happier surrounded by headstones rather than the living.

  I find the concept of morbidity puzzling. Acknowledging thoughts about our mortality seems to shatter a social taboo.

  Love, reason and consciousness of the inevitable are what separate us from most other beings. The exploration of these is what continues to drive our [...]

  
  
• 17.04.09 Chasing Storms
  

  Having recently completed a degree in Photography at the Queensland College of Art, I am embarking on a career in photographic art practice. With this newfound freedom from the educational structure I have begun working on several bodies of work.

  My work method adapts with my emotions and my concerns in life, and with death. Only [...]

  
  
• 31.03.09 What’s So Scary About Death?
  

  I hate that I spent so much of my life afraid of death.
  I hate that I was brought up shielded from the realness.
  Telling children there is a place called hell is torture.
  Telling children there is a place called heaven may not be torture but it’s still a lie.
  Let people open their eyes. They may see [...]

  
  
• 27.03.09 The House That Neville Built
  

  At 98 years old my grandmother could no longer look after herself and finally had to leave her house. Her husband, Neville, died about 10 years ago. He was a carpenter and built the house himself.

  It was also home to my mother and her four sibilings. I remember going to many family get-togethers with the [...]

  
  
• 15.03.09 That’s The Thing About Living
  

  A dragonfly caught in a spider’s web. It stops struggling to watch the sun go down. Roots of mangroves intertwine. Hands joined or endless struggle.

  A forest peephole mirrors the world outside. Forgotten by tomorrow. A ripple in a creek otherwise calm. A sigh for something, somewhere.

  That’s the thing about living.