Emerging Identities

What pieces or projects have you been working on lately?
It feels as though everything I’ve been working on recently has been attached to the tension of birth (creatively and physically) and how to work with a body’s rhythms and limitations, plus each art form’s rhythms and limitations.

Documenting my children, partner, and friends through the medium of film, especially on such an analogue machine as the old Retinette 1B, has allowed me to capture and observe their evolving self-sovereignty.

Three years of observation (and hundreds of developed photos) offers a poignantly candid record of my family's emerging identities after experiencing the breakdown of a marriage, an escape from high control religion/patriarchy, and the acceptance of queer identity and love. Slowly, through film, I have been able to watch my perspective shift, and my family heal.

My eldest daughter grows into her saturated and feral imagination, consistent in her determination and magic.
Images of my youngest as a cautious female-presenting toddler slowly transform into portraits of my proud five-year-old son, as he becomes free to express his inherent gender identity.
My partner pulls themselves out of a depressive cycle and journeys back home to their ancestral lands, to thrive.
My friends come and go, finding their sense of self in the landscapes that sustain them.
My own body holds them all, the way the light holds them all: softly.

What did you learn (or unlearn) while working on them?
There are things I can communicate in a photograph that I cannot communicate in a 70,000 word novel or even an entire film, and I’m caught out by the honesty and sharpness of that. My work continues to teach me about silence.

I am fascinated by art that portrays humans without their self-consciousness, whether at rest or deeply focused. Removing the mask from a subject is hard, but I have been learning to remove direction or posing from my work entirely.

For me, a takeaway from this slow process is how important it is to not pre-empt what images/stories will be “good”. Like poetry, is it good? doesn’t really apply as a test of artistry in my work—the question is more is it honest? With the simple equipment I use, and the volatility of my subjects, I must release far more than a sense of direction, but accept that the moment of honesty will find me, eventually – if I turn up and stay open. But unlike writing, I don’t get to decide in advance what is true and ready to speak. It reveals itself later.

What words, ideas or emotions were going through your head?
My work can feel nostalgic, but the practice of creating it is one of radical presence. Like many, I’m addicted to the slot machine of anxiety in my phone. This is so counterproductive to emotional processing, parenting, and art-making. A lot of these film images were taken when I was feeling physically unwell, heartbroken or abandoned, in all honesty. When I recognise a sense of dissociation or grief that detaches me from my body, family or work, reaching for my camera is an act of embodiment and hope. When I look back on moments of pain and see where the light lands on film, I can often rewrite that lens of depression or fear.

I am a joyous person—and continue to exist in a state of wonder and gratitude at the beauty of this life. But I am also tired, and very angry. I think a lot of women can relate to those things.

Were there any conversations, movies, music, or books that made their way into that work?
My children love Enid Blyton, fairies, and any magical story I improvise for them. I also find that as a novelist and screenwriter I am most drawn to magical realism for adults—whilst my poetry is almost violently domestic and exhibitionist, regarding the realities of the femme experience. So I enjoy a mix of gritty realism and child-focused fantasy, and both of those worlds bleed in.

What's been the most difficult thing you've faced recently in your creative process?
I had surgery to remove endometriosis and an ovary that had a tumour. My recovery was slower than I wanted, and the interruption to my responsibilities felt really frustrating. I made a choice to document the surgery and healing process on film, and that helped immensely.

What is your favorite restaurant and what do you recommend we order?
There is a Vietnamese place called Pho Queue near me, that I adore, and my children are made giddy by their donut bread. Every special occasion we go there, spill pho down our clothes like idiots, and leave giggling.

If your life were a movie this month, what would it be called and who would write the soundtrack?
It would be called Odette. That is what I named the ovary I had removed. Broken Social Scenewould write the soundtrack. It would be a bit rude, a bit psychedelic, a bit romantic.

Recommend one or more artists you follow who inspire you, and tell us what you like most about their work or their way of working.
Julia Rose Van Haren— an old friend, and extraordinary mother artist.
Sharlie Wise— a painter and ceramicist who is enamoured with painting women in relationship with symbols.
Morgan Roberts— an old friend and photography mentor who has shot me as a subject many times and continues to inspire me with his resistance to commerciality and focus on candour.