THE CROSSING
The Crossing is the first collection from an ongoing project photographing riding expeditions in the Australian Snowy Mountains and high country. This project explores a world beyond the comfort and confines of modern life, offering a glimpse into a vanishing legacy of horsemanship and bushcraft in the mountains.
“As a photographer these are the projects you dream about.
This is an ongoing documentary project with my friend, guide and subject Mark.
It began simply, as an excuse to ride horses and shoot remote and beautiful landscapes. It quickly became something much more.
This collection captures a plateau crossing in bad weather near Tabletop Creek in the Snowy Mountains, and simple fireside rituals as we stop to let the weather clear.
“Photography is about more than pictures. it’s about revealing things unseen. It’s about showing people something through your eyes. As a photographer your connection to a subject is the defining characteristic of storytelling.”
“The pack saddle which now carries my camera equipment, and the quart pot that now makes the tea I drink both rode with the Light-horse in WWI.”
The weather up here changes so quickly, changing the entire landscape around you. The fog had closed in, blanketing the landscape and making navigation uncertain. The wind and rain were driving in hard making lighting a fire seemingly impossible, and yet, with a little patience the quart pots were soon filled with hot tea.
The comfort of a fire and hot black tea has sustained people in these mountains for as long as they have been riding here.
Fireside as we stopped to rest, waiting while the fog cleared enough to get our bearings.
My friend, guide, subject and muse, Mark belongs in the mountains.
Before this project, I knew what most people know about Mark… He loved the mountains; he was good on a horse; And it always seemed, like he didn’t quite fit in whatever room he was standing. His tall rugged frame never quite comfortable in the confines of a bricks and mortar world.
In long conversations over coffee and concrete Mark and I talked about horses, the mountains, photography and life… We hatched a plan for me and my camera to accompany him into the mountains, to capture the beautiful and remote landscapes most photographers can’t get to.
It took about five minutes into our first ride to realise this was not going to be a landscape project. Mark has become my friend, guide and subject in a unique collaboration.
Mark belongs in the mountains… An enigmatic figure, he is in many ways, a living embodiment of the values and traditions that are synonymous with the narrative of Australia’s Snowy Mountains. Looking at him its hard not to think of the men and women who carved out a life in this harsh and beautiful landscape, chasing cattle and gold and forging a sense of national identity that is still potent today.
Behind the lens…
“My earliest memories are of the rhythms of the bush, storms rising up through the gorges, the smell of horses, eucalyptus, kerosine and woodsmoke in the rain.”
The idea of photographer as dispassionate observer has never sat comfortably with me. To me the camera is a point of connection rather than separation. As an artist I am attracted to telling stories that help me tell mine; that reflect my search for identity and belonging. My images are definitely a search rather than a destination.
As an artist, these are the projects you dream about. The ones that turn into a journey of self discovery and collaboration. Where you can trace that line of connection from past to present, through you, your camera, and your subject.
My parents were gypsies and drifters, I had more than a dozen homes before I left to find my own. It is perhaps for this reason that where I began is the place that always captured my heart and my imagination.
I began life on a very remote property in the bush, in the high country of the New England Tablelands. We had no electricity, no plumbing, and for me life unfolded beyond the reach of the modern world. My earliest memories are of the rhythms of the bush, storms rising up through the gorges, the smell of horses, eucalyptus, kerosine and woodsmoke in the rain. It was a magic place that had a deep and lasting effect on me. However it did not last. Ended by family breakdown these early years became like a dream, a lingering and potent mix of memory and imagination.
A tension between the desire to live outside the safety, comfort and complexity of the modern world and the deep yearning to belong somewhere has always pulled at me, and is a recurring theme in my work.
