WE LIVE YOUNG

2011 iphone diaries

2011-12-31T03:00:00.000-08:00

the year begins in the heat of north queensland

my cousin and sister in the flooded park

words for our future children

taking pictures on the way from brisbane to toowoomba

sleeping in a pitched tent in my grandparent's garden

sunday morning at my aunt's house (before being jumped on by wide-awake children)

belle riding on m's shoulders

the super 8 that m picked up at a swapmeet

a rainbow on valentine's (m cooked a picnic basket's worth of food and we took the girls to the park)

sleepy sommer in the back of the car

some old photographs from a wooden chest. left, my mother as a child and right, my young grandparents

some angry geese we met on our adventures with the girls

spiderbite sick belle getting cuddles from her mother

dinner with maria- she'd flown me to victoria to shoot for her salon

some art i liked pasted on the wall of an elevator in melbourne

the beginning of our street when it wasn't yet ours

a map of the town & the first inspection

the first few nights spent on the cold floor (but we couldn't have cared less)

making it home

days later when m had finished putting the ikea furniture together

our mountains

our special place at the end of the street

a place found while exploring

on a ferry, taking sommer, belle and freya to luna park

taking the three sisters to see the three sisters

red dirt land

adventure to a graveyard

a late night swingset date with m

painting the girl's bookcase & belle's picture for m

leaving on the greyhound bus

shooting danielle in front of the harbour bridge

danielle asleep on the long train ride back from the city

lighting the fireplace for the first time

our day and night of snow

m editing a short film i shot for a clothing label

winter fog in katoomba

two very magical lines

sweet writing in m's journal

shooting a lookbook for milk & honey

early morning bondi

m asleep beside his sister, ashlin

taking m's sisters to the cinema in perth

flying over sydney

my gatepass

one of the billabong models busking in a french train station

fruit for dinner in paris (thank-you pregnancy cravings)

m and his camera, at a restaurant in provence

travelling across europe by train

seaside cafes

a boutique hotel in florence (and me hiding in my hair)

the view from our balcony in cinque terre, italy

the view from to the right, a garden of umbrellas

m sleeping on the train back from the airport

a train crushed by a falling tree when there were storms in the mountains

a note m left on our blackboard after an argument

the warmth that is us

m's 21st birthday presents, a guitar and a banjo

arriving in auckland, new zealand at night

a monstrous rock at piha beach

m in our hotel room

later on in auckland, the image i'd shot for bic runga pasted on a wall

a naked tree a few stations over

picnic by a waterfall

the only day of sun in many months of cold

the pub down the street, with forever lit fireplaces

me reading in a bookstore in the city

interview in yen magazine

the beginning of a belly at 18 weeks

night trains through vietnam

saigon through the taxi window

our hotel room in nha trang

restaurant by the river

a cat startled by a family of scuttling crabs

lazy beach days in hoi an

summer fruit

pre-meal uno ritual

shopping for things for alba in markets

a drawing and a tiny dress for alba

alba's hammock & stuffed animals from saigon

25 weeks

our new rocking chair, with car lights streaming through foliage onto our door

spring flower picking

wishing goodness for our baby

28 weeks and an iced chocolate from my favourite cafe

making tiramisu to quieten cravings

picking up my little brother from the station in the pouring rain

monopoly with zake and m

my favourite grocer in the world

30 weeks & lunch inbetween hypnobirthing classes with m

late afternoon walks down our street

photographing the lead singer of the preachers

my early christmas present from my love

my brother getting his first tattoo (a few days after a very messy 18th)

zake's flying spaghetti monster tattoo

in my best friend's pool in the townsville heat

my sister and cousin painting me

my rainbow belly

watching the birds in the trees from our bed

35 weeks

one month left

pictures by me and by my love, taken on our iphones throughout the year.

alba and the world (part two: new zealand and vietnam)

2011-11-20T00:38:00.001-08:00

when we were home from europe we found our mountains being torn apart by angry winds. we’d watch the storms shake the big trees past our balcony, as if they were only paper cut-outs.

the power was out for three winter nights. we made a nest from blankets, pillows and sheets and lit candles to read by. the constant rain meant we couldn’t collect firewood for a fire. i was glad alba was safe and warm in my belly. when the storm had left and the power returned we cooked pumpkin soup and sat in front of the fireplace, soaking up the heat.

afternoon naps & m's guitar

sun setting from our balcony

where we play hours of board games

our home

ever-growing alba

my midwife, listening to alba's heartbeat

a fire in the city

writing in alba's journal, taken by claire

later we were on a flight to auckland, new zealand. we'd been hired by sony to shoot bic runga's album cover. i never gave much thought to new zealand, never imagined how beautiful i would find it. we stayed in a 5 star hotel in the middle of the city. we were high up and had ceiling high windows that overlooked the bright nighttime bustle of auckland city. i'd go to bed with the curtains drawn wide just to immerse myself in it.

on day one we shot at piha, a black sand beach. clouds of dust floated like ghosts above the dark sand and dunegrass grew wild. it was deserted and felt like a dream. i photographed bic as she fell against the wind, hair dancing and alive.

the next day we shot at a park, where the paths were white with sheep being herded to and fro by sheepdogs. it felt like an english countryside with the rolling hills, dense woods and cool mist that fell softly upon everything. it began to rain and we finished shooting in bic’s home (which was cosy and populated by musical instruments).

papa's hand over growing alba (14 weeks)

view from the hotel window

piha

bic at piha beach

cornwall park

the handsome filmmaker

shooting in the rocks

sharing pictures

bic and her sick boy

on the last day m and i explored auckland together, taking note of interesting things to later tell our daughter. i felt so lucky to be able to work and travel with my best friend, i hope i always can.

it is always so perfect to arrive home. to watch the sea of mountains coming into view from the train window, to step out and smell the cool, fresh air (like jasmine flowers and dewy grass) and to finally fall onto our daybed exhausted and content after dumping our luggage by the stairs. one of us always says something cheesy like ‘home, sweet home’ but it makes us smile.

we get a kind of travel high after a trip. where we are still filled with the excitement and spontaneity. if we’re home too long things become too dull. i think this is why we are so addicted to moving.

the train home from the airport

becoming a mother

alba waving hello

ultrasound

soon i flew to queensland to work for two weeks. i photographed model portfolios and i visited family and friends. m stayed home, planning my birthday trip and editing films. i missed him, but i was lucky to be surrounded by family. being apart in the beginning was torture, but i’ve slowly learnt to accept we can’t spend every moment together, and that there is a beauty in being alone.

cousins sommer & belle

cousin freya and her broken arm

driving into the full moon

dearest m took me to vietnam for my 19th birthday. we’d often holidayed in indonesia together, but this was our first time in vietnam. it became our favourite place in the world soon after arriving.

we landed in saigon. there is this feeling i get when i arrive in a new city, like a fire has been lit in my stomach, that means no matter how exhausted i am from the journey i have to explore. it’s the closest feeling i have to the curious excitement i felt during childhood, when i didn’t know much of anything and there was so much newness in the world.

we walked down the busy streets with wide eyes. all was loud and bustling, street vendors sold vietnamese desserts from old carts and motorbikes almost skimmed our sides on their way past. we found a restaurant at the end of the busiest street. it was wooden and the floors were stacked on each other, the side facing the street was all balconies. we climbed steep, creaky steps to the top floor and from here we could see everything. i don’t think we spoke for 5 minutes, out of awe. eventually we ordered banana sinh to, vietnamese beer (for m of course) and chicken pho. it was a few dollars.

midnight walks

18 weeks

me upset, after a silly fight with m

that first night was magic. i sat on the lounge, barefoot, cross-legged and eating pho with chop sticks, feeling m’s hand on my growing belly, watching out over this chaotically beautiful city and i felt like the luckiest girl alive.

i wrote to alba in my journal while m told me how very perfect our life was right then, and i agreed with all my heart.

i turned 19 a few days later. we spent much of the day on the mekong river, stopping at different villages, buying homemade coconut candy, eating fruit from the fruit trees and then falling asleep on the boat ride back to the city. we went out for dinner and as much as i’d imagined having some amazing vietnamese food, all i craved was a big, juicy beef burger and deep fried french fries. it was kind of funny really, seeing as though i’ve never been a meat eater.

birthday cuddles from a snake

growing bump. on the speedboat back to the city

m's scribbles with a broken pen

i didn't take many pictures on this trip. a huge downside to shooting professionally is if you overwork yourself, picking up the camera just feels like a job all over again. i know one day i won't do campaigns anymore. i will have exhibitions and release books of all the images i took for love (not money).

one night on a walk through the streets it began to rain so heavy the roads flooded like little rivers and we held our shoes in our hands and kicked the water as we ran. lightning lit the skies and the little rivers and we splashed one another, holding hands and laughing like children. we found a cosy restaurant and ate dessert for dinner, listening to the thunder.

we caught a night train to nha trang next. we stayed in a fancy hotel on the beach but it all felt too money-driven to us, too western influenced. we spent the moments where day became night in the ocean, the bright lights from the building on the shore glittering in the waves. i clung to m’s back, resting my head in the warm space on his shoulder, thinking about how our daughter would fall asleep like this one day. how lucky she is to have someone so loving and kind-hearted as her father.

waves crashing, 19 weeks

my love

nha trang city

afterwards we’d walk along the sand for a long time, letting the memory of the sun (still there in the heat of the nighttime air) dry us. past the rollerskating children, the blind beggars and the lovers kissing on the beach.

we flew to hoi an last of all. this was a beach town too, but with so much more life and character. the roads were dusted with sand and everyone was barefoot and smiling.

weary, warm days all melted into each other. we spent so many afternoons playing childish games and laughing in the water, our sinh tos (fruit smoothies) at the pool’s edge. we bought our daughter tiny trinkets, hand-sewn stuffed animals and soft scarves from markets, and felt her tiny kicks. a little person that was made from our love, a little person that is us.

my birthday dinner

it was the romantic summer of my teenage dreams made real. there is a nostalgic sadness in remembering the bliss, knowing the only way to relive the moments is in my mind.

home again. here i grew, and i grew, and my belly was as round as i’d always dreamed. here we fell deep in love with alba and she learned our voices, the soundtrack to her world. we built her a library of treasured books found on our journeys. we had our first ultrasound in a big, white hospital in the city and we saw her dance with tiny ankles and long fingers. the midwives visited our home and we heard her strong, musical heartbeat. our little girl.

most images taken by my love

alba and the world (part one: europe)

2011-09-25T01:22:00.000-07:00

in the beginning (when our alba was only a tiny growing flower) we travelled over seas and continents to the city of love. i was shooting the next billabong campaign and m was making a short film. i was only nine weeks and tired, my belly hadn't begun to swell yet so i hardly believed i was growing a person inside there. there was so much happening around me that at that moment i couldn't take it in.

when we arrived in paris it was fête de la musique (the day of music). the streets were overcrowded with delirious french youth, swaying and singing along to the musicians in the parks, the instruments with minds of their own. it was wild and every person was an animal. unthinking, free. m and i sat with the models and the u.s billabong team in a little restaurant on a street corner. i ate strawberries and cherries for dinner because all i craved was fruit. we shot, we filmed and in the morning we left early to fly to biarritz. we only had that single night in paris, but the living flurry of the music and young streetlight-lit faces will always come to mind when i think of it.

parisian street

lindsay on the train

models stretching

we visited the french seaside town of biarritz next. we shot from the moment the sun rose until all the light had gone and sometimes beyond. sleep was short and dreamless and when i closed my eyes i felt my fingers tight around the body of my camera; i watched the day's memories through a viewfinder.

m was selfless and slept even less than i did. he'd stay up very late; clearing cards, charging batteries, selecting images and packing for the next day of shooting so me and baby could sleep. it felt endless, my camera was an extension of myself and i ached for it. it felt good though, pushing myself and letting my passion get the better of me. this is who i am after all.

there were three models, all around my own age. two were californian musicians. they'd put on impromptu concerts in stations waiting for trains, by the beach in-between shots and in their hotel room when the day was out. it's what i adore, music for the love of music, completely unabashed. they were so interesting to learn from and to photograph. you can get right into someone's soul photographing them, so much quicker than befriending them. it's a connection that's difficult to explain until you feel it.

biarritz beach (by m)

bare feet and thrown sand

the three models and i, checking shots (by m)

balconies overlooking the beach

me hiding from mandy (oracle fox) (by m)

we were only in biarritz for a few sun-soaked summer days before getting a night train to another town (here is where i lose the names, as we shoot in a new town each day or two). but i remember that night train well. the narrow, barely lit corridors, foreign whispers and men asleep against the carriage walls. i was exhausted to my bones and so sick. everything frightened me. m held my hand, the warmth of love filled me and somehow i fell asleep slumped against the cabin door.

when i woke there was shouting and rushing, suitcases dragged over my feet. suddenly m was helping me off the train into blindingly bright platform lights and a world thick with cigarette smoke. a derelict, concrete station where we had a vending machine dinner and waited for our next train. my next memory is piling out of a taxi onto an empty road before a hotel somewhere in italy, falling in and out of sleep on the couches at reception.

every night the whole team would eat at beautiful restaurants. anything and everything we liked, the most wonderful european food. with sleepy goodnights, we'd go back to our hotel room and m would run a hot bath for us to sink into. we'd talk about shooting, about our child and about the beauty of whichever european city we were in that day. on the cool hotel sheets we'd cuddle all warm-skinned and clean and i'd fall straight to sleep, holding my growing belly. it was these precious things that kept me sane through the long days of shooting.

tired me at a nowhere train station (by m)

passing fields of sunflowers

sunflowers at a market in provence

dessert and candles

passing oceans

coming into italy (by m)

italy shined even more brilliantly than france. when i photographed strangers here they didn't yell and swear at me, they just smiled. in monterosso, cinque terre our hotel balcony overlooked the endless beach with rocks rising from the sea like creatures and bright-colored umbrellas like growing flowers from the gold sand. everything was the picture of summer.

one midday when we had time away from shooting, matt and i bought gelato (quickly melting down our fingers) while walking down the beach collecting stones. i sat in front of the water and wrote in alba's journal that the prettiest would be hers and that i would collect things from all of our travels for her. the water reached up and swallowed my feet and i laughed and felt so connected to this little being inside me, who i would one day introduce to the ocean.

my sleeping love

arriving in monterosso

(by m)

growing alba and i, 10 weeks (by m)

girl lying in a yellow slide in the sea

me, watching the sunset at dinner (by m)

(by m)

me, catherine and the roses m bought us all.

one day we hired a handsome boat to shoot on. for a while i sat on the bow, my toes skimming the surface of the sea, entirely bliss. we'd pass all of the old, hillside towns that made up cinque terre with their tall houses turned pastel from paint faded by hundreds of years of sun. i saw an old steam train billowing cloud disappear behind a hill and felt everything in my life fall away. all there was was the moment and the immense beauty of it.

the rest of italy was standing on a red roof in firenze city, street ballet at night, laughing in candle-lit restaurants, boutique hotels, chasing light with the models and recognising the colossal sculptures in awe through the taxi windows. the old world.

italian girl by the boats

jocelyn and the camera she lost

view from the bow, towns of cinque terre

italian flag (by m)

m making me laugh

grandpa pushing a boy around town in a wheelbarrow

cinque terre hike (by m)

young girl photographing a man with a bouquet of roses

unwillingly photographed youth

red roofs in the city of florence

the town through taxi windows (by m)

the flight home was long and i fell sick. the sickness welled up where i imagined my little one laying and i prayed she wasn't feeling any hurt. i put my palms over her and i sent her all my love and warmth. i imagined the day i would hold her and look into her eyes and it made me cry. she was mine and i'd do anything to keep her from hurt.

on the long train ride back to the mountains i fell asleep with m holding his hand over our alba. i dreamt of the places we'd take her when she was born, and kept imagining long after we'd arrived. i can't wait to show you the world, baby.

dead leaves

2011-08-23T18:38:00.000-07:00

test with yani @ viviens, brisbane

dead leaves by winter

clothing donated by american apparel

where you hide secrets

2011-08-23T06:08:00.000-07:00

test with eliza @ viviens, brisbane

clothing donated by american apparel

playing in trees

2011-08-23T04:26:00.000-07:00

little test shoot with trinity, 10

hair by her sisters

bruises by trees

color is 'bloodless asleep'

some clothing donated by american apparel

that bright glow of new life

2011-07-04T03:38:00.000-07:00

a baby is growing like a flower in the garden of my womb.

they are the size of a lime now, with fingernails and tiny toes. they can swallow, yawn and kick. one day i will feel those first flutters, and one day i will hear their heartbeat. in six months we will hold he or she close, cry of love and kiss their tiny nose and eyelids.

in their first few fragile months of living we have travelled all over france and italy. although they will never remember, everyday i write them letters. so that when they grow up they will know they were loved from the beginning.

sometimes i think i can feel where they are, it is always slightly to the left. i wonder if they can hear my heartbeat better from there. sometimes m lays his head against my belly and whispers stories and love to our tiny future wonderchild. 'your papa loves you very much' he whispers, among little kisses.

it has been tough, shooting an international, two-week campaign for billabong with all the exhaustion pregnancy brings. but my m has been so patient and kind, and i have been as brave as ever. there is much more travel and shooting to come and i will have to be strong, but by the end it will all be worth it.

there is already so much love for this tiny child from so many people all over the world. this feels like the beginning of something so extraordinary, so beyond words. i've never felt such love in my life.

we are so full of bliss for all the good that will come.

send love and warm thoughts to the little light growing in my belly.

(all images and artwork by others. last image is of my aunt holding me.)

see papa m's announcement post: http://noinever.blogspot.com/2011/07/water-ballet.html

fairies

2011-07-03T06:34:00.000-07:00

this is my gentle-spirited friend named tessa who stayed with us in the mountains with her lover. these are a few pictures we took out in the winter air.

penny lane

2011-06-20T19:14:00.000-07:00

a few weeks ago, a girl i call penny lane came to stay with us. i could see she had a wandering heart from the very beginning, like she'd never be truly happy unless she was exploring and living.

at nighttime we'd all walk down to the rock overlooking the mountain valleys. as we stepped over tumbling stones and loose dirt on our way to the rock hill, we'd whisper about dreamtime monsters hiding in the trees. all was pitch dark but the curling trails of incense smoke and lit lanterns. everything was deathly still but our breath. we'd wrap ourselves in blankets to keep warm but the cold would still lick at our lips and fingers.

we'd walk home and light the fireplace so that everything was alight and warm, and we'd toast marshmallows or eat hot soup. one night after our walk to the rock it began to snow and the balcony was painted white. i've never seen snow before so i ran out like i was ten years old again, in just a dress and stuck my tongue out to taste falling snowflakes. me, penny lane and another pretty girl named hannah jumped around in it and made little snowmen and snowballs and everyone around could hear our excitement.

snow in autumn. i thought it was like magic.

but then one day she had to leave, so we took her to the train station and said sad goodbyes and our home was quiet again.

of blood and bone

2011-06-20T17:08:00.000-07:00

near the beginning of the year we left my hometown to stay with some of my family in toowoomba. it's a small town with streets lined with trees and old homes with magnificent gardens.

half the time we'd stay with my grandparents in a big house with a backyard full of fruit trees and vegetable patches. my nanny was always cooking something wonderful and my grandfather (ex weatherman and inventor) would spend his time in his garage, which was ideally another world full of many collected treasures. he had this mad love for all of it, like every odd collection and invention was a piece of himself. almost every night he would bring out old cameras from different eras, and show us how they'd worked. we spent a night going through a chest of photographs he'd taken of his seven children and the inspiration flowed so heavy through my blood.

one night we pitched a tent in the backyard while my family had a big barbecue. the girls crowded the tent as the light began to leave the sky and we all told hushed stories. later that night me and m lay beneath the bright stars and we shared the sweetness of life. my great uncle the nomad came to stay and we dreamt of buying a caravan and leaving just the same. one day we will.

the other half of the time i'd stay with my aunt megan and three cousins- sommer, belle and freya. it was much different to staying with my grandparents, it was chaotic and filled with sound in the most perfect way. it was a small house on the highway. over the fence in the backyard you can see grazing horses and m would hold little freya up so she could watch them, eyes lit with that innocent fascination babies have. i'd lay with sommer on the trampoline, watching the galaxy shimmer, and she'd point out everything she saw outlined in the stars. i'd tickle belle until she was breathlessly giggling and tell her crazy stories about the lives of the flies she often batted from her eyes. when she'd see me swoosh a fly from my leg or cheek, she'd say sternly 'don't you do that! you'll hurt jemima the fly!' in that adorable way toddlers mock seriousness. i fell in love with those girls and i miss them so often.

after sunset we'd sit with megan and we'd talk for hours and hours. there are moments i feel i don't belong to my family, but in these moments i did. we've never been close. the only memory i really have of her was when i caught a bus at age thirteen to a town so small it was barely a town. i looked after sommer in a motel room during the day while megan worked on the boat with my uncle. i always thought she was quiet and would never have guessed one day there'd be a connection. some things are so terrible they are unimaginable to those who haven't experienced them. because of her selflessness and strength in the most horrible darkness, i will forever feel inspired to be brave.

these are some of the photographs i took on this journey.

cousins layla, sommer and belle after rain.

belle through the car window.

sommer in a lone tree on a hill.

sommer soothing freya.

on the veranda of my grandparent's home.

climbing trees in the backyard.

sommer wearing chocolate ice-cream.

sommer skipping in her new dress.

swimming lessons.

belle's swimming class.

sommer's reflection over the parking lot.

freya's day naps.

belle being carried by m at the ER after she was bitten by a redback spider hiding in her dress.

sommer and layla on the trampoline.

the pile of clothes left by the girls after playing bareskinned under the rain.

sommer.

sommer in the rain.

the golden afternoon light.

the front hallway of my grandparent's home.

belle, sommer and layla watching television.

cocoon

2011-05-10T23:42:00.000-07:00

this is the short version of a film i shot for the label mok theorem. it opened their runway show during RAFW. it stars my dear friend courtney and seven year old cousin sommer. it is inspired by the chaotic and beautiful life cycle of a butterfly. it was shot near my new home in the blue mountains over three afternoons.

much love, x

skin and blood

2011-04-25T13:21:00.000-07:00

my baby sister in the window of a hotel room.

her heart is so beautiful.

home again

2011-04-24T13:05:00.001-07:00

my hometown, the town of the heavy sun. it had been a long time since i saw my family.

there is my mother, the eccentric artist. often wearing midriff shirts and falling in love with strangers on public transport. her stories of her youth, as free and inspired as any, give me purpose and a sense of self. she has inspired me to love fully, travel everywhere and to never shave my legs. my young, half-sister is boyish, with long sun-blonde hair and a strong naivety. refusing to let go of her true self. she hides her gentle heart behind many layers of tough skin so that only a few know how selfless she is. my brother was diagnosed with aspergers and never finished primary school. he has never said hello to love, let alone gotten to know love, so his obsessive nature (that i share to an extent) feeds into gaming. lands and battles he talks about with wild passion, him the leader of a gaming cult. his skin has seen little sun and his chest sinks down past his ribs. but he is content.

then there are my many cousins, all so grown up now. when i saw them, all tall and talking of boys they’d loved who had broken their hearts, i almost cried. i realised the worst thing about travelling is not being there to see your family grow. they were strangers i’d once babysat every weekend and lived with for months. i was who they came to when they were hurt or sad. in a way, that is hard to explain without sounding weird, it was like they were my children and then suddenly they weren’t. i didn’t want them to grow when i was away, it broke my heart.

my house hadn’t changed. it was a chaotic mess that felt so much like home. under the house was my mother’s glass studio where she would make jewellery, and beside that were cages stacked up to the ceiling where crazed white rats with bright red eyes lived. me and my sister would collect grasshoppers and big insects to feed to them. watching what we imagined as the bloodlust staining their eyes. there was a fascination in watching them tear the grasshoppers apart limb by limb. watching the insects on the brink of death.

my room was at the back of the house, which is now my sisters room. it is pink, which i always hated and i’m sure my sister hates now. a lot of my old things were still lying around. it was a strange feeling. remembering that the girl who used to live and breathe in this room was me. my experiences since leaving home have set me a world apart from her. she was wild with feeling, crazed with passion. sometimes i get sparks of her and it makes me feel alive again.

but if i’d known back then, all i would do and how much life would frighten me, i would have never left my bed. i followed my dreams blindly, and i do not regret it.

i’m not sure if it was summer when i visited but it always felt like it. the sun was heavy on our skin. the girls all played with the hose in the backyard and we left the house when the sun was setting and the air was beginning to cool. those days you didn’t want to do anything but laze around, reading books and sucking iceblocks.

it was christmas eve and i was in the pool with my 8 year old cousin kaisy on my back, her arms safely around my neck. it was late and we watched the scattered stars in the sky, excitement in the air all around us. in an almost hopeless way she asked if i believed in santa claus. when i told her i did, her eyes lit up and she said whispered quietly ‘i do too’. she told me of nights where she’d heard sleigh bells and a deep laugh that had echoed into her dreams. then she was silent. lights on the roof lit up parts of the sky and we both saw the most magical thing. we saw the lightest sprinklings of snow falling slowly down in the air. bright white, like only snow could be. hush, i said to the other cousins and my sister in the pool, look. and all was silent. later one of the cousins insisted it was rain that was caught in the light in a strange way. but me and kaisy are certain it was snow from santa’s sleigh.

i got only a few hours sleep that night, waking at sunrise with the children. it’s funny how when you become an adult christmas is no longer about presents but about the children. the way their eyes light up and they don’t stop smiling, not even when they’ve fallen asleep exhausted that night. you want to do all you can to make them happy.

matt flew in and i picked him up from the airport, having not seen him in months. full of stories of foreign cities and cultures, wearing new scars (with volcanic ash buried under) and thousands of new photographs. he brought with him more presents then i’ve ever received. my favourites being a yashica t4 with film and a pashmina from india. i felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world.

i felt overwhelmingly like i belonged. this is my family, my past. i shared this quiet, homely life with matt and he revelled in it, sunk right down like i did. like we knew noplace else.

the next time i went here, weeks later, i was flown to be a witness for a court case. a part of me died those days. being forced to think about things i'd buried deep enough to be forgotten. watching it become so real. sometimes i wish i could confide everything in this blog, or even one person, but it's just me alone with it all. i realise now i've never let anyone completely in. maybe i'll always be lonely in that sense.

my cousin kaisy under falling hosewater.

my cousin, sister and step-cousin's soapy legs.

elise on her birthday.

kaisy wearing fake teeth.

my sister, my cousin and my mother sleeping on my mother's mattress.

early christmas morning.

my mother and her niece.

my cousins. jayson playing guitar and jami reading.

kaisy and pixie's legs in the rainflooded gutter.

playing in the rain under streetlamps.

my goosebumped sister.

december belongs to the cities

2011-04-22T01:50:00.000-07:00

i shared the beginning of a scattered december between melbourne and sydney.

i met josh when me and m were sleeping on the cold floor of a fashion photographer’s apartment in melbourne. he’d casually stroll by us in his underwear in the mornings. it was a cliche, him being the muse of the photographer living there and naturally i thought he was an egotistical ass, as most male models are. i was kind of right, but he had a good heart there somewhere. i shot a campaign with him in sydney almost a year later, and he became a kind of brother to me.

i was in melbourne for an exhibition i was in and i was staying with josh and the gypsy boys in a terrace near the city. their house was littered with paintings, guitars, rubbish and empty beer bottles. it was a kind of haven for the ill of mind and those drunk on music and art.

those summer days were long and hot. we brought a fan into the room and i'd sit in front of it, singing along to whatever record was playing. some late afternoons we'd walk barefoot to a school across the street and i'd lay on the grass listening to music. the boys played soccer and skated while the sun set the deepest orange. like a sky on fire. i lived on a diet of corner store muffins and iceblocks.

while we were there one of the boys brother's and his lover stayed with us after their house burnt down. the brothers looked alike. long red hair curling like smoke. they spoke the same too, and when i closed my eyes i couldn’t know which was speaking. sometimes the atmosphere was hectic, wild, drug-fucked, and sometimes when i woke before any of the boys it was quiet and safe. like calm water.

in a way they were all my big brothers, i was picked on but always looked out for. and even though i was falling asleep amongst ankle-deep mess on a strange smelling mattress on the floor every night, i was content.

soon i was in an apartment above a brothel in newtown, sydney (or to those unaware: a massage parlour). this is my friend claire's place (a journalist who i met during an interview for cream magazine), shared among 3 or 4 other pretty girls. it was like living in another world compared to the gypsy house. everything was clean, nice smelling and sweet.

i went to the movies, had long train trips, met with agencies and took pictures around the city. i went touring with my friends from papa vs pretty. it was all filmlike. all of us cramped into a tiny car filled with instruments, driving across two states. packed venues, the mayhem of music. later on i met with david lachappelle to talk on the radio. i was full of hope and naive about my dreams during that time.

it was a kind of haze that lasted only a short while. many things happened i chose to not remember. all drowned in that deep haze in my thoughts. sometimes as a writer you want to keep moments alive eternally, whether good or bad because they are created some part of your persona. but some moments are better forgotten.

gypsy apartment in parkville. the lovers whose home burnt down.

tim & josh.

the homeless.

man & dog on melbourne tram.

woman & dog on street.

an exhibition i took part in.

josh through the window.

tim's brother on the balcony.

the boys playing soccer across the street.

quiet allen.

josh & a clouded windscreen.

on the road.

josh's sister and josh.

josh's cousin at sinterklaas (dutch christmas).

josh's cousins at sinterklaas (dutch christmas).

indian headdress.

heavy clouds.

flying into sydney.

sitting on the roof of a car at bondi.

claire's apartment in newtown.

claire and her ex-lover.

freya on the train.

on a train over the harbour bridge.

dinner at bill & tony's.

my favourite friends in sydney.

bondi boys.

mad busker in dee why.

thomas' journal.

roadtrip with papa vs pretty.

upset girl and her boyfriend at a gig in canberra.

central station.

shooting courtney on a mattress on the sidewalk.

silence

2011-04-17T09:18:00.001-07:00

i've walked almost my entire life with my eyes open. i saw where i was going and knew who i was. but this period of my life i feel like i'm wandering blind. i'm lost in every sense.

the thing that i feel the most guilt for not taking enough photographs. i compensate for my bad memory by capturing as much of life as i can, and when i miss things, i feel like they are gone forever. this guilt is closely followed by letting people down. which is something i can be very good at. it's not that i don't care, sometimes i care so much i feel like nothing i do would be worthy. not blogging has stuck around like a sickness these past few weeks and i am deeply sorry.

i am no longer a gypsy. me and m are renting a house on a hill overlooking the blue mountains. it is so cold and beautiful here. we have a fireplace, a bath, big windows and a balcony. the first few nights we huddled under airline blankets, our few possessions scattered around us. our home was so empty. we quickly filled the home with things i never could have owned as a gypsy. i can feel the weight of all these things i now have and i wonder whether it was a good idea. but this isn't the end of travel for us.

i don't know why i'm lost. i can't even remember when i lost me. love brings on so much feeling. this afternoon love made me sit in a hot bath, sobbing until i was weak and drowning a bottle of red wine on an empty, sick stomach. yesterday love made me feel the same intense happiness i had as a child. relationships are hard. especially between passionate, strong-minded artists. but deep down that's what i need, something to experience, feel, write about. maybe i've been losing myself in the bad us. i love you m, i know things will become okay again because they always are.

i'm so lost i'm not even sure where i am going with this. but please be patient while i slowly return to myself. i have so many pictures i want you to see.

love, n

i don't take many self-portraits anymore. this is me at my grandparents house early this year.

letter from my lover on valentines

2011-02-19T16:28:00.000-08:00

m's scribbles and silly poems on my feet

my beautiful girl,

you are asleep beside me, and despite the deep rumbles and grating gears of the passing vehicles on the highway outside our window, I feel so content, listening to your breathing, and the wind in the tall backyard tree, and now it is silent of all cars and trucks and roadnoise, and now it is nicer than it was before. with you I have learnt the most about myself, and consequently the world, and with you I am calmest, clearest, happiest, realest, warmest, and all other superlatives that could be used to describe just how right things are with you. I have said it a few times but I'm not sure I've ever truly been able to express just how much I appreciate you, your presence in my life, all of the things I have learnt from you both directly and indirectly. the world will change and change often, sometimes dramatically, but I know our love will always remain. we are the strongest of the strong, and I will never leave your side.

thank you for all that you have blessed me with. i am indebted to you.

yours for all time, and timelessness,
m

my sleeping m

valentina

2011-02-14T17:59:00.000-08:00

a small love story i shot for the sweethearts at the hair salon RAKIS.

hair and make-up - maria gullace
assistant - amy rakis
set design -james razos
stylist - connel chiang

models @ scene

my dear old father

2011-02-06T22:04:00.000-08:00

each time he was near (between one of his trips far away) he'd leave me with a world of knowledge. an entire lifetime of experience like no other. i missed him a lot as a small child, but he does more good for society than he would for just me.

i've been hoping he'd come home since i was a child and now he finally is.

the color shop

2011-02-01T04:18:00.000-08:00

'great grandma' example. a free photoshop curve available HERE!

tonight (after many, many weeks of scattered sleepless nights) we are finally releasing our new actions/curves blog. we felt the boring design of our old blog didn't quite match our creative passion.

incase you're confused, the color shop is a website selling (and sometimes giving away- see above!) photoshop presets for photographers. so in a blink (with no effort or skill needed) your images are given color, contrast and tone to match a particular feel. because we're film fans most of our colors replicate old film pictures. most are presets we use ourselves. it's kind of like magic to us.

it has sucked up all our spare time lately, so we hope you can appreciate all the little features we added in and not be mad for any inactivity. with the money i earn i am hoping to buy professional film equipment so i can begin to make a series of short films. matt wants to buy a campervan so we can travel around the country, documenting our life and the lives that cross our own. so we are grateful for every sale and we love to hear how the presets benefit you- so let us know.

enough words, click the logo to see our new site for yourself!

keep creating,

nirrimi + matt

by the sea

2011-01-31T03:06:00.000-08:00

a long overdue post lost in the mayhem of the end of last year.

model: tara

makeup/styling: jules sebastian

a new year

2011-01-01T08:26:00.000-08:00

it was so perfect to spend this new year's eve the same way i spent the last- in the comfort of my lover's arms. it's so blissful to finally have my m back. this year will be a great one for us. a new home in the blue mountains in the middle of woods and the seeds of thought planted for our first blushing, dreaming child. many photographs and memories and a comfort i missed so dearly last year. i have a feeling my pictures will evolve as my life does, into more warmth and realness. i'm finding my feet and planting them in the soil much deeper now. but the gypsy blood still flows.

joyous new years. make memories you are proud to keep.

thanksgiving

2010-12-29T05:31:00.000-08:00

this year i am thankful for love, opportunities, my camera and the kindness of strangers. i am so thankful sometimes i smile outloud and as hard and long as you might try you could not break my spirit.

for my first thanksgiving i was flown across the country (from fast-breathing new york city) to san francisco, to spend the day with zelda's family (thanks dearly to the kindness of her beautiful mother). i stayed in their castle of a home, on a cliff over water. in the sun-hazed distance you could see the san francisco bridge, like a tiny magnet in the sky. i looked at it through the glass and thought (as i often do) that this is something i could never have imagined happening to me.

their home was so filled with art i felt like i was wandering through a gallery. a museum of an extravagant life i couldn't relate to. a secret world you needed a key for.

thanksgiving day was being prepared days before. chefs filling the kitchen and men and boys lifting furniture here and there, moving boxes, setting up tents. i knew something fantastic was being created and when it all came together it was like magic. there were psychics, a famous magician, a photobooth, champagne glasses that never emptied, waiters wandering with plates of beautiful foods and the hubbub of blissful children running wild under our feet. as always i watched it all through my camera.

thanks to cheesy american films i spent the night imagining that when it came to dinner we'd announce the things we were most thankful for. even though it never happened, in my head i heard myself say 'most of all, and as cliche as it may be, i am thankful for life and the lives of those around me.' and that means you too, dear readers. you give me a reason to photograph everyday. i have so much loyalty for you and without your love for this blog it would not exist and i would one day forget the little details.

black and white action by my lover

my brother's birthday

2010-12-17T17:07:00.000-08:00

today my once-super-cute little brother turns the rotten old age of seventeen. luckily he is a kind of peter pan who refuses to grow up and lives in another world (online). he spends all his time there, with short gaps inbetween where we might catch a short but sweet conversation with him.

happy birthday zake, thank you for sharing a mother and father and a childhood with me. thankyou for making cheesy jokes about your online girlfriends and forever laughing at yourself so we don't feel bad doing the same. and sorry for throwing a full bottle at your head when you were only 2 days old, but atleast it explains a lot of things. kidding.

don't grow up too fast, it's overrated anyway.

love, nirrimi.

sleep in peace, part two

2010-12-11T17:48:00.000-08:00

model: courtney @ priscillas

hair: luke davis

makeup: vanessa collins

styling: jules sebastian

sleep in peace, part one

2010-12-10T22:30:00.000-08:00

model: courtney @ priscillas

hair: luke davis

makeup: vanessa collins

styling: jules sebastian

if i were an indian

2010-12-03T03:57:00.000-08:00

when i touched my feet on melbourne soil and breathed, it smelled of home. i love the way australia smells, it's a sweet, warm and briny. like being on the top of a hill above the sea.

these are a few, quick self portraits i took today before the sun set, after an artist friend sketched me and i realised i hadn't taken any in a long while. the headdress belongs to my friend living here.

here is a picture of my knee from the fall, you can't see the extent of the bruising but it's still pretty gross and very sore. my elbows are also purple. but i like scars, they remind you of things. i have a big scar from a motorbike exhaust burn at the back of my calf. it was from when me and matt first visited indonesia. it was second degree and i can always remember at the time i thought matt looked more hurt than i felt. there is something reassuring about having someone care more about you than you do. especially when you're as hopeless as i am.

flying

2010-12-01T18:06:00.000-08:00

i wake to icelandic music and a sleepless ache. i'm a little sad because it's a day to leave all the new things i've fallen in love with, but it's something i've adjusted to. i pass in and out of sleep until it is late, then i shower and dress and begin to pack my bag. i'm very good at this now because i hardly own anything anymore. my camera bag makes up most of the space and almost all of the weight. i hug the people i was staying with for a long time. they tell me they love me and i almost don't care if i miss my flight. but then they leave and it is just me alone in the loft. it overlooks brooklyn and you can see the empire state building at night.

things used to be different, it used to tear me up to leave places and people i love. but these days it is happening so often i almost don't have time to be upset. a friend told me not long ago that i've grown a second skin, that there is a hardness to my eyes now. if i was as naive and sensitive as i used to be, i know i wouldn't be able to do this. instead of thinking about what i am leaving, i think about what i am coming to. it's all an adventure.

i could hear the taxi honking it's horn on the street so i left, the door closing and locking behind me. there were eight flights of concrete steps to the ground and my suitcase was more than half my weight, heavy with all the books and presents for my family and lover. i was scared of missing the taxi which would mean missing my flight so i tried to move quickly but i could only lift it one step at a time. on the third floor the weight put me off balance and i fell down the steps until i hit the landing. i lay there for at least a minute. everything was quiet but the taxi and it's incessant honking. i felt like each was going to be the last and i was going to miss my flight. i felt bruised all over and i kept saying matt under my breath like he would suddenly appear and look after me and love me. but i was completely alone. my tights were wet with blood and the fall had ripped through my dress. i was softly shaking. i hated myself for thinking i could do this on my own, i just wanted to be home with him again, safe.

when i moved all my bones hurt but i tried again, more slowly now. everytime i lifted the suitcase i felt like my knees were splitting open. a lady with dogs came up the steps and saw me struggling and asked if i needed help. i tried to say no, i'm fine but my voice broke halfway through and i started sobbing and said i'd fallen and i was hurting. she told me to wait at the bottom with her dogs and slowly she brought my suitcase down. i said thankyou many times and she smiled. the taxi driver almost spat when she talked to me but i didn't care that she was mad because i was in the taxi and i wouldn't miss my flight and in a month i would see matt and he would kiss all my cuts and bruises better. i realised in the taxi i'd forgotten my phone but i didn't care about that either, i'm always leaving something behind and it's better my phone than my camera or journal.

now i am at the los angeles international airport. it reminds me of a large, mostly empty hospital. you're trapped in here and forced to pay $15 for a sandwich. but the last few minutes flying over were beautiful, there were fireworks exploding in the sky below and i listened to vashti bunyan sing 'here before' and couldn't wait to take my children flying. in 20 or so hours i will be in melbourne, back to the warmth. and soon after sydney and after that, home. on christmas day matt will fly to me and we'll finally be together again. everything is always okay, and if it isn't, it will be.

E train to everywhere

2010-11-29T02:19:00.001-08:00

i am on the subway in new york city, cradling a bag in my lap and holding my suitcase tightly so it doesn't fall. my head leans against the window and the cool air outside passes through glass and my hair to my skin and makes me shiver. the sun has been setting early these days and by now it is completely dark.

this morning i was in san francisco. the flight was long but flying over new york city at christmastime was the brightest thing i've ever seen. it was only an hour ago and when i close my eyes i can still see it, burning like an exploding city.

i notice i am the only white person on the subway and it makes me feel small. down the aisle teenage girls are playing rap music from their phones loudly and dancing. before me an incredibly beautiful indian woman sleeps. i want my camera so badly but i know it is buried within my camera bag within my suitcase and if i get it she will most likely wake and i will most likely miss my stop. we go through a tunnel and i am seeing a girl glowing in the window. she is all sleepy blue eyes and long unbrushed hair but i feel a kind of warmth towards her, towards this girl that i've hated and loved for so long. the tunnel ends and i disappear.

suddenly something snaps in my mind. suddenly i realise this is my youth. this is the young me i will remember when i am old and longing. these are all memories i will tell my children and grandchildren and myself. i take a mental photograph like i often do and i close my eyes tightly while it develops.

a few snapshots i've taken while getting lost in this city.

yesterday

2010-11-20T01:15:00.000-08:00

an afternoon with shelby, img models.

diesel controversy

2010-11-19T11:03:00.000-08:00

if you didn't see it on the cover of the new york post or plastered across every news website (and even televised news), the lingerie images i shot for diesel are causing quite a stir. we shot it at a brooklyn law school who were apparently told the images would be tasteful. as the photographer i shot to the brief and really had no idea the things i was shooting would later make people feel uncomfortable and be labelled as 'shocking' and 'disgusting' (though to be honest, i still don't really see the fuss). to cause controversy with my first campaign feels strangely good, intended or not. if i can make people feel anything with my images, it's better than them feeling nothing at all.

they are yet to catch on to the fact a 17 year old shot the images, i wonder what the reaction will be when they do. though i'm betting diesel are loving the publicity.

the pictures

some of my favourite articles:

ny mag

new york post

youtube

ninemsn

more controversy

diesel - be stupid - the rest

2010-11-19T10:10:00.000-08:00

tender hearted

2010-11-07T18:52:00.000-08:00

after the love imaginary picnic received last year, i decided to piece together another little nothing film with footage i took of my friend in my hometown. it was a long time ago and it wasn't much, but it's a pretty way to spend a minute.

although these nothing films are nice, i have to tell you i have a something film in the works. hold your breath until then, because i promise it will be worth it.

and in case you missed my first.

brooke fraser

2010-10-25T08:46:00.000-07:00

here are a few photographs i took of the amazing brooke fraser for her newest album 'flags' and single 'something in the water' (which is now #3 on the australian charts!). we spent a few colourful days exploring l.a and shooting. we went on a road trip to joshua tree, listening to loud music on the way, windows down and eating cookies. when we arrived it was sunburnt desert as far as you could see and howling wind in naked branches.

every time i hear her on the radio i remember the way i felt those days, and i just want to melt back into them.

brooke fraser. styling/makeup by jules sebastian.

why i want children young

2010-10-24T11:21:00.001-07:00

a little over a week ago i was asked in an interview 'where is your heart?' i wanted to reply, 'my children, who i already love whole-heartedly (even though they are only just dreams for now)'. but for fear of being controversial and misunderstood, i replied with what i thought they wanted to hear. 'my photographs'. the journalist laughed and said 'i thought so' and i cringed. i say i'm for realness and honesty in my work but i am keeping quiet a huge part of who i am. i want children more than anything.

it began when i was quite young. i became fiercely maternal towards my dolls and bears, i began dreaming up long lists of baby names and i started looking after my little sister and cousins. when i grew older i became interested in parenting and childhood's affect on later life, reading parenting books and watching my friend's families interact. there is something about the young that has always fascinated me. a naive, pure happiness so easily broken. i started having nightmares about miscarriages and infertility. i asked my friends 'is it normal to want to have a baby so much?' but they didn't understand.

a question that is often asked during interviews is, 'what inspires you?' my childhood inspires me! my life began on the water, inside a houseboat. my parents were wild, free and my father painted me while my mother photographed me and we were all wrapped up in the beauty of life. after, we lived in a caravan and soon after that, a house in avalon crawling with vines. my mama's hair and my father's beard was so long and i knew they loved me because they told me so, they said 'i love you to the stars and back' and i knew it was true. my father would tell me dreamtime stories with such passion they'd feel real and my mother would read me books late into the night. my father ran away to follow his dreams (something i struggled with but accepted, it gave me strength to do the same) and me, my younger brother and my mother moved to townsville. our love lane home was little but it had an enormous mango tree in the backyard. i'd sit on the grass, shirtless, gnawing on the juicy seed of a mango and it'd run in rivers down my skin. years later the smell of rotten mango is one of my favourite smells.

my mother began dating another man and the rest of my childhood was conventional. we had bedtimes, a suburban home and pay tv. i was sent to a private catholic school and my mother stopped painting, laughing. i'd hide in the stories i wrote, in the worlds i created. suddenly having an imagination wasn't important and stories weren't things to be told with passion, the tv was more interesting and i should watch that instead. my mother pulled me and my brother aside one day and asked 'do you want to get our own home? we won't have much money or pay tv or a big house with our own rooms but it will be just us.' and we said 'yes' and meant it with everything. it took seven years and then suddenly we were no longer playing happy families, we were actually happy again.

my images are often coloured with memories and moments of my youth. i want to raise a child with the unconditional love, inspiration and adventure of my own childhood, so that they too can be inspired as i am. it's what i always knew i was meant to do. the reason for all i've learnt.

much of society seems to think there is a 'right' way to live life. a formula. finish school, go to university, climb the career ladder, get married, settle, buy a house, have children, have granddchildren, retire, die. it's strange that something so outdated is so widely spread. i was told i would never become a photographer if i didn't finish school. people my own age sometimes ask, why are you acting like an adult when you're so young? shouldn't you be out partying and actually being a teenager? because there is a right way to be the age you are! well i guess i am a rebel by not being rebellious then. isn't it all ridiculous? sometimes i think about this and ache to be brave and push aside my fear. and so i'm going to be loud about what i'm passionate about, even if i'm not supported.

why do i want children young? even though i've been in love with matt since i was newly fourteen, i have never had a single doubt in my mind that i didn't love him. our love is something i can't explain, but it has withstood disaster after disaster without crumbling. it is the only thing i can rely on in my life, the most beautiful thing i know. we are both writers and photographers, extensions of the other. some relationships are based on sharing the same taste in music, me and my lover share almost everything. ever since we moved into our own home together (a year and a half ago) we've talked about having children. we thought if i became pregnant, we'd explain it was an accident, scared if people knew we had consciously WANTED our baby they'd judge us negatively. it makes me wish that people would see us for our thoughts and actions, not how many days we've been alive.

i always saw myself as a young mother. a mother with enough life and energy to keep up with my children, enough imagination to dream up things along with them. one day maybe they will look back at all the photographs of me playing with them and think, my mama is pretty. people seem to think you should stop living when you have children, you should settle and stay. but i could never. they'd be missing out on too much adventure. all of us can travel and experience together, making memories, photographs, stories. the photographs i'll take of them will be some of the most real images ever, so full of my heart and passion. when i think of them i hardly want to shoot anything else. most people may want to live first and then have children, but for me, having children will be living.

i am so blessed to have the job i do. i might travel across seas to shoot campaigns but i will always come back days later, with stories and pictures. my career has the kind of freedom very few do. the reasons for the negativity surrounding young mothers doesn't make sense with who i am, regardless of age. and besides, i am not thirteen or sixteen, mentally i am not even eighteen! i know who i am, where i am going and who i love and that is beyond so many. my decision to have children early may be an unaccepted one, but for me it makes all the sense in the world. think, would the world be more disgusted if a 39 year old woman accidentally fell pregnant to a child she had no time for, or if a 19 year old had a baby out of love and a want to raise children? the most important thing is love and time to love.

disclaimer: i am not promoting teen pregnancy, i am promoting open mindedness and following your heart without fear.

stems and thorns

2010-10-18T04:58:00.000-07:00

a few pictures i took of caitlin in zelda's home and backyard in los angeles.

caitlin gerard

makeup, jules sebastian

styling, zelda williams

lake tahoe

2010-10-17T00:46:00.000-07:00

in lake tahoe the heat doesn't get all the way through your skin. it sort of just falls over you and stays clinging onto the hairs of your arms, your jeans, your browning shoulders. it's nice when you've lived your entire life with the kind of watery heat that gets into your blood and makes you sweat.

i stayed in my friend's holiday house in lake tahoe a few months ago. it was summertime and we were so close to the sun my skin burnt for the first time. the trees grew all the way into the sky and in the early morning grizzly bears would wander through the yard. the yard became the lake and on the lake sat a trampoline. when we first arrived we swam out to it and all jumped together, laughing loudly, pushing one another into the lake.

at mealtimes the kitchen would be heavy with smell, the chefs would lay out dishes along the benches and we'd all lick our lips and eat until we had to unbutton tight jeans. sometimes i'd impatiently stand by them as they cooked, excited for whatever was coming.

when i woke in the morning we'd all run down to the boat and go wakeboarding or waterskiing. i'd fall into the lake face first and come up for air laughing. when i wakeboarded i felt strange, as though the water was really land and i could walk across it. afterwards i'd lay in my swimmers on the deck of the boat listening to music and soaking in the warm.

we had a tennis coach who gave me lessons some afternoons, she was flown from australia and hearing the familiarity of her accent was a little piece of home in an blissfully unusual world. when the sun was long gone we'd sit in the hot tub, drinking red wine and watching for shooting stars. it felt like we were in the middle of the woods. there was a meteor shower and the sky caught on fire.

one day i took my camera with me kayaking across the lake. there was so little between me and the water that my heart sat in my throat the entire time. but i clung to my camera like i needed it to live and finally pulled into the rocky beginnings of the yard without regret.

i fell in love with the people and the lake. everything just breathed there. just when i thought i'd lost feeling it gave it all back to me, fistfuls of it. it was the most beautiful summer.

a little something special

2010-09-15T21:01:00.000-07:00

while i was going to wait until i at least knew the date of my exhibition in manhattan (so i could post about both) the hatemail and (more understandably) impatient-excitement-mail i have received is too much.

even though i really don't want you guys to hate me, it would have been nice to invite you all to my exhibition along with this. but as promised, for all you amazing, wonderful people who voted for me and continue to support me through everything (including my sometime inactivity) here is a little something from me to you:

your free photoshop curve

smoking underwater

2010-09-03T23:16:00.000-07:00

eighteen

2010-08-29T08:37:00.000-07:00

being a writer at heart means no matter how many terrible, unbelievable things happen to you, it's okay because they will always make for good stories. i seek out experience, and things just happen around me.

i turn eighteen with the police at the foot of my bed in my hotel room. i am not there in my head. i count down aloud to midnight. they ask 'can you please spell your boyfriend's full name for us?' and 'can you please describe everything' but i am not there at all. all numb and unhearing. my boyfriend is out in the winter night without a jacket, wearing a shirt covered in blood hiding from police and i am beginning to shake. the fat policeman says 'happy birthday' and i say nothing.

it's the last day of shooting the ad campaign so we throw a party in a warehouse in the city. it has big open windows and you can see all the buildings lit up outside like the world is on fire. i feel very pretty because everyone keeps telling me so. i dance around and everyone keeps giving me drinks. things begin to melt together. i shoot into the night until we get the last shots and everyone cheers. shooting is over now.

one of the male models says 'you're only 17 a few more hours, be young and stupid' and so i do.

we all take taxis to the hotel room in kings cross. my agent brings me a cake and champagne and we sit on the roof, laughing. on the roof there is a garden and i walk through it and look over the city. i think about how scared i am to become an adult. i imagine the effect i would have on the world if i climbed up and jumped off. at least i would never have to grow up. i am ignoring my boyfriend, something has come over me and it's not me. i am mean-tongued and stubborn. i can't find my love anywhere, it's run away.

soon i am in an elevator with a skinny ukrainian model who calls me nina and there are drugs and all i think is, this will be interesting to write about someday. i like the way she speaks and moves her wrists. then we are on the ground level and some of the other models are there and my boyfriend comes and he knows. he never drinks but tonight he has, he is unusually loud. he thinks another boy kissed me but no one has. we yell.

a bottle is smashed against tiled floor, my boyfriend punches a boy and runs through the hallway and punches a hole through the glass window in the front door of the hotel. glass is stuck between his knuckles and he bleeds down his arms and runs. i am on the ground crying and everyone is holding me in every direction but i feel like i am down here alone. breathe, everyone says, breathe really deeply.

i want to chase after matt but i know no one will let me. when we are in the elevator there are more drugs and i am now beyond thinking. i let others think for me. i don't know if the drugs work or not but i decide to never do them again. downstairs my lover comes back to find me and no one will let him. they all hold him back from running into the hotel. upstairs the owner of the hotel screams to us 'who the fuck smashed the window downstairs, we saw you with him, tell me who it was now'. but we stay quiet (while inside is the loudest my mind's ever been). i begin to cry.

in the street my boyfriend is so cold so he takes a jacket from the trash and wraps it around himself. he lays beneath a truck for a long time and waits.

i am in the hotel room and my beautiful friend from los angeles is reading to me to calm me. her voice is honey. i drift in and out of unfeeling. in each pause i worry about matt, so much it makes me sick. i don't know where he is and i am scared we are over. my body shakes hard.

here and there are blurred spots in my memory i am yet to remember.

the police come and the police go. my agent hugs me tightly and promises everything will be okay. everyone sends so much love my way i am almost soothed by it all. i do not know that thirty policeman arrest matt and put him in the back of their wagon. i do not know that when they ask him why he did it he replies 'love'. my friend from la and one of the models falls asleep in our bed.

there is only me to my thoughts for the entire night and morning. i do not sleep or eat or pass time with anything but sick worry. at every noise i open the door, every half hour i go downstairs to see if he is outside the hotel. he is never there. a thought creeps across my mind and it makes me cry. the dead of night breeds frightening thoughts. i am scared he is gone.

the night is the longest living night there ever was.

i watch the sun rise. my boyfriend is taken to the police station, to the hospital and then to a jail where he spends the night. in the morning he is taken to court. i do all i can to find out where he is but i don't hear anything back. morning is here and one of the models comes over and worries beside me. he brings me chocolate because i have hardly eaten in the last few days.

matt knocks on the door and i run at him so hard we fall over into the hallway. his arm is casted and his clothes are torn and bloody. he is home. it was like i'd been holding my breath the entire time and i could finally let go.

later the same day somebody asks me 'did you have a memorable 18th?' and i smile and say 'yes, something like that'.

BOYS

2010-08-29T07:06:00.000-07:00

so i spent my last week of seventeen with these boys. handsome and crazy. i was shooting a campaign in sydney and it involved making bonfires on beaches, taking shots of tequila, throwing parties and driving around sydney to find beautiful places to get out and run amok. we acted real young and stupid, especially the night i turned eighteen, but that story is coming.

there are a lot of posts that need to be, but for now this is the most up to date. i'll just have to take you back in time a little with the ones that are coming.

*WE LIVE YOUNG*