10 Seconds

May 2015

I’ve explored how my body fits into spaces using a ten second self timer for almost a decade. My first exhibition, A Body of Work 2007-2014, documents my visual and emotional response to a space. The pictures are the culmination of a physical conversation between us with the space dictating how my body becomes part of it. Its atmosphere permeates the pictures with an added layer of feeling. A Body of Work 2014–2016 is exhibited in the second room, and by showing them together in sequence they also document the changes to my body over time.

The series I Was Never Good At Yoga, Paperwork and Pool Party are an extension of this concept but focus more on responding to the contents of a space and temporarily subverting their given purpose. Where A Body of Work is emotive, these are more quick-fire and playful, making sculptural forms from the interaction between objects and my body.


Group Show, ‘Dear Sylvia’ at Australian Centre For Photography, Sydney

January – March 2015


Dear Sylvia gathers female photomedia artists from Australia, UK, USA, France and The Netherlands who explore some of the many ways of representing the female body. Mixing documentary and contemporary photography, the exhibition literally shows women who have taken hold of their image, whether they are in front or behind the camera. It sparks intuitive conversations with some of the many themes approached by poet Sylvia Plath – the body, the self, social norms and objectification.


A body of work

These Self Portraits are my body’s response to a space and its contents. They are never pre-meditated, often I’ve never seen the location before, and I never enter a space with an idea of a finished picture. The final image is entirely dictated by the location and how my body can fit within it.

It’s often a fight to ‘fit in’, to become a part of that space. The process of taking the pictures is punishing. It leaves me bruised and aching. Every picture is taken on self-timer, which makes for a repetitious, highly physical process of running between the camera and the pose, making adjustments as I go. It feels like I’m hammering my body into the landscape of the room, one picture at a time.

Although the pictures are an immediate unrehearsed response to a space, with little emotional consideration at the time of shooting, as a body of work, they have become deeply emotive for me. As well as showing the physical journey of my body over time, they also reveal an emotional one. Each picture candidly portrays a moment, like marks in the calendar of my life.

The tedious despair of temp work in the city laid bare on a boardroom table. A ball of excitement on a yellow chair on my engagement. The red fabric of grief stretched around me as I watched my husband slowly lose his mother. The overwhelming calm poise and balance of pregnancy 9 days before my first child is born and the almost sacrificial, exhausted pose two months into motherhood.