The romance of a Russian

Finally delving in the rich literary history of Russia, my sojourn into this wealth of writing began last year in August. I was establishing my own freelance writing practice, happily transitioning to self-employment. What a source of inspiration!?!

I leave you with a quote from Ivan Turgenev's novella, First Love. The author lived from 1818 to 1883, and his contemporaries Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky count among the great 19th century writers. (I will be tackling their tomes next).

"Oh, gentle feelings, soft sounds, the goodness and the gradual stilling of a soul that had been moved; the melting happiness of the first tender, touching joys of love - where are you? Where are you?"  -- Turgenev

Be inspired to take your photos further

Any photographer will know, it is the hundred little things you do in a shoot that makes a great shot. There's a lot to consider. Lighting, framing, subject matter, focal point, shutter speed, pre- and post-production, and finally presenting your client the end product. I imagine you can list many more.

So where is the space for inspiration?

A favourite photo from Aileu district in Timor-Leste, 2013.

I believe it's in the little things. It's in the detail and the effort you put into your work. Inspiration comes in the little moments you take to stand in awe and wonder of what is around you.

Take a moment to walk down the street, and look up. Inspiration will meet you. Observe everyday human interactions, and the beauty of a candid moment will greet you. Step back for one second, and look around your studio or general surrounds, you will see creativity all around you.

Moments taken to honour the creative within you and the creation around you – that’s when every little detail can come together in a moment of perfection.

Happy shooting!

For more inspiration this is a place I like to go to learn more: Digital Photography School.

I've had some fun shoots recently, playing with natural and artificial light, backgrounds and angles. Check out the interiors at Shine Skin and Body, the headshots of writer and magnetic content guru Kath Walters and staff at Anglican Overseas Aid on my images page.

Natural light from a window and the Hollywood mirrors provided the dramatic opportunity . Sheridan is a business woman and beauty therapist at Shine Skin and Body. Airbrush make-up is just one of her many services. Visit www.shineskinandbody.com.au to find out more. 2014

A portrait using slow shutter speed to blur a moving background required a very still subject. Kath happily obliged as we had fun finding locations. A journo for 16 years Kath now teaches businesses about magnetic content, visit www.kathwalters.com.au. 2014

Write your life story in 500 words or less

As a writer, its worth the discipline (and the attempt) to write your life story. I was recently challenged to write it in 500 words or less. Of course, not thinking of the brevity I required, I thought I'd start at the logical beginning -- birth.

Old family photo, 1979, on the duchess, 2014.

My Story

The beginning wasn’t as inauspicious as Patrick Suskind’s character in Perfume, Grenouille, who memorably expels from his mother’s womb into a dank and smelly fish market within the first chapter. (Perfume would, incidentally, feature in my life but not in a Suskind kind of way).

My entry into the world began at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Adelaide. I might have been a little smelly, but that I don’t recall.

Prepubescent ambitions encouraged by my father included archaeology – I wanted to dig up Tutankhamen, although it hadn’t occurred to me then that someone had beaten me to it. I also wanted to be a psychologist, probably to figure out my misfit siblings – I became one of eight.

The real giveaway as to what my future would hold would be how dedicated my eight year old self was to reading the Neverending Story. That, and a heightened sense of childish injustice that was remitted upon my younger brother.

At the age of 11 my Step Dad and Mum moved us to Rockhampton. The city of churches was replaced by the meat capital of Australia. As far as I know, a super-sized Bull will still greet you if you drive in on the Bruce Highway.

School bags would be replaced by ports, recess for little lunch and bathers for togs. Riding out to First Turkey, the local national park at our back fence, to look for crawchies*, spot wild boars and run away from snakes would become a familiar game.

During this time my 14 year old self was given a bottle of Poison by Dior. A far too heady scent for one so young, my classmates must have wilted in their chairs beside me. Nevertheless I wore it religiously.

Religion would come upon me in my late twenties. It would also redirect my sense of justice toward the global poor. 

But I should answer how we arrived in Melbourne. I guess the meat capital of Australia just couldn’t contain me, or my family, for one second more. We landed in the eastern suburbs of Melbourne. Just in time to begin year 12.

It was a seven minute walk to my new school. They offered Literature and English as separate subjects. I only thought of taking both.

Enter life in university, and yes, I did start psychology. But it quickly paled in comparison to my love of English Literature. This is in spite of being the slowest reader I know. Truth be told all the books on my bookshelves are yet to be read. Those I finish, I give away.

Life’s whirlwind dutifully scooped me up. Travel, meeting people, independent filmmaking, meeting more people, selling fragrance, wearing fragrance, dancing with the idea of becoming a writer but being terribly bashful and afraid of never overcoming my adolescent attempts, until little else became an option.

Justice and stories would finally meet in a passion-filled career working for not-for-profits.

And my daily writer’s habit? A good dousing in perfume.

*yabbies (in South Australian)

The best ever two-tram-stop conversation

I barely noticed the old woman step onto the tram two stops from my destination and sit down beside me as I let out a hefty exhale. She said, “That’s a big sigh.”

“I guess I’m thinking about too many things that are outside of my control,” I replied.

“I think we all do that,” she concurred.

She was dressed in black. A silver haired beauty with kindness in her voice. As we continued in conversation, only then did I learn she had come from a funeral.

“He was 92, I guess we can’t complain about that.” I told her about my 96 year old Pop.

“He’s still got his marbles?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s all that matters.”

I shared how he believes in keeping the body and mind active for a long and healthy life. “And good food,” she piped in. “It’s much harder for you lot,” she continued. And I asked, “In what way.”

“Oh, you know, drugs, and other things, life was simpler for us. People even didn’t drink as much beer.

“I play a game sometimes when I get on here,” she gestured to the packed tram, “and sometimes I’m the only one who isn’t looking down tapping on some phone or with things in my ears. I’m the only one looking up.”

And we looked. But today was different. Hardly anyone was on a device. And we laughed. I had to confess, I would be a culprit except my phone battery died shortly before she sat down.

“It’s good to look up. See what’s going on around you.”

It was my stop. In the grinding city traffic where I could have walked faster than the tram was moving, I was grateful it was so slow. The only regret is that I didn’t ask her name.

Daydreaming about driving across this wide brown land

I’m bewitched by the idea of driving around Australia.

Chasing a baby goanna across the red centre, Australia, 2012

From striking coastline, to windblown deserts. From mountain country to tropical rainforests. With the most ancient manmade structures on earth and the longest history of people inhabiting it. The open road is calling.

I think that’s why I’m equally obsessed with Tiny Houses Australia. The idea of hitting the road, with all of the luxuries of home attached by a tow-bar and little else. Can it get any better than that?

The drawback is that perhaps my little beep beep Barina lacks the might for towing.

If I were on the open road right now, I think a solution to this little dilemma might just come to me. For now, I’m going to keep on dreaming.

Stepping into the void

What on earth are we here to do? Honestly, do you know?

Winter reflections in Melbourne #boldsteps, 2014

Have you ever felt like the whole world, the universe and everything in it is colluding to spit you out from the shell of a life you have built – comfortable as it is – and launch you headlong into the nether?

If you are, you’re feeling a bit like me.

I’ve spent months in turmoil. All in the name of deciding what the next steps in life will be.

Do I leave an awesome workplace or not? Should I move house or not? Can I take risks that might open surprising opportunities? Or do I risk continuing as I am, with the next five years of my life looking terribly like the last?

In the height of what I should more accurately call ‘indecision’ I found myself paralysed by fear.

My muscles were sprung for the sprint of my life in your classic fight or flight mode and yet they were as atrophied as a woman who had done little more with those muscles than schlep to the kitchen for a cup of tea. (Oh, I’m a woman who’s done little else… ok I did play hockey for a time even if I have given it up this season).

I honestly believe there was a five week period when I couldn’t muster a single coherent thought. It’s quite a problem when you need to make decisions.

So without one limp, lame and dull idea making its way to a single brain cell – I was at an impasse.

The one and only sure thing was this sole idea – and it stirred not from my mind but from the deepest place within – things must change.

Happily, change was imminent. My workplace was restructuring. (That was probably the world, the universe and everything in it colluding, step number one).

What surprised me is that I’m sure my 20 year old self would never hesitate to make spontaneous changes in life. Age has brought caution, along with a labourious weighing up of pros and cons. I used to hate lists, now I’m the list queen.

As circumstances were rapidly changing, I was overcome by doubt. My melodramatic side might even call it a deluge of mental anguish.

Who am I? What on earth am I here for? What am I meant to do? Questions, quite frankly, I thought I’d resolved in my twenties.

Doubt, though, is not so evil.

Of course, doubt can (temporarily) stop us from taking action, or undermine positive life affirming circumstances and relationships (if we let them). Whilst doubt seemed to cause a total decision-making meltdown in me, it can also serve us.

I encourage you to explore your doubts.

Doubt challenged me to think deeply about the very issues and concerns I had.

It led me to scrutinise the lifestyle behaviours and choices I took for granted. It helped me unearth what I truly thought and believed on certain issues. And it magnified the workings within – unearthing my values, beliefs and aspirations.

Doubt challenged the status quo in my life. (The world, the universe and everything in it colluding, step number two).

My doubts have led me to the crossroads of change. And right now I’m standing before some pretty great choices. Choices that will provide challenges, opportunity and a whole lot of fun – if I let them.

So what helped my decision making? Recognising going back isn’t an option and realising I really do want new opportunities and new challenges.

In the height of my paralysis I took time to think.

I moved to a suburb by the river with incredible trees and peaceful streets. I now return home each night to a sense of enchantment.

I also went on a short road trip, arriving at Tarrawarra Abbey to stay at the Cistercian monks’ guest house. When one of the Brothers asked me how I was going, I lamented that I was questioning my existence. Surely I had thoroughly tackled this at least a decade ago.

He gently suggested that I’m likely to revisit this very question of existence more than one or two times again before my life is over. (This is the moment I might have grunted in the presence of a monk). I was comforted nonetheless. (The world, the universe and everything in it colluding – and finally recognising I’m a part of it – step number three).

Eventually, I made a decision – moving with the wind of change.

This blog, my new business and the journey ahead are all a part of my #boldsteps.

It hasn’t been so bad after all. In fact it’s been exhilarating exploring new ground in this wild and brazen world that sometimes causes us to question - everything.

Every beginning should start with good intentions

Every beginning should start with good intentions. Goodness is what all things need. For this new beginning -- the start of my blog -- I thought it should begin with one of my favourite photos. This was captured at the beginning of the year on a rainy day walking a street in Delhi, India. It marked the occasion when India well and truly captivated my soul. And it was good!

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