I was brought up on a farm, with five kids and a Mum that loved us and never went to work. I attended a country school of thirty, where one day I hid from my mum and she left me behind- I'm still working through the wound. Was dragged into Asia for missions trips when my youngest sister wasn't even nine. Studied film in Hawaii, where my roommate from Canada taught me how to take photos. Graduated, spent the next three years dedicated to ending human trafficking in America, went to every state, did busts with the FBI, followed a private detective into Mexico, burnt out and retreated to British Columbia to drink tea, eat blueberries, run naked in the forest during thunderstorms and learn from a lady that became my second mother. Spent three years in a studio with my brother where I learnt I could write, spent a year in the wilderness finding out who I was, met an old soul who became the dearest of friends of whose life is the subject of my films. Lived through the Christchurch earthquake- losing everything, escaped to the mines in Western Australia, had an encounter in the desert, spent everynight in the sand, soaking the earth, grieving. Eventually reappearing at the Venice biennale and realized I am ok and I'm going to be fine, climbed a moutntain in Italy, rushed home to witness the aftermath of my Grandfathers death, lived in a studio in Sydney with my brother, and here I am, photographing a wedding of another, of two others who have two lives, two histories, two pasts, forty wounds, thirty loves and a future that no one knows. I never think I'm going to get everything right on your day. But I put my living heart and soul in it and in this I rejoice and make my peace that this is an art form and together we will make something beautiful that will last forever. I think sometimes we forget we are human, I'm a wedding photographer and I'm human, you are a bride and you too are human. Life is to be lived and your day is for you. Don't change a thing for anyone. You can do as you wish on your day and I will stay unoffended and always smile. Whether you laugh or cry, or scream or shout, whether you do walk down the isle, or don't walk down the isle, get scared, get excited, lose your shoe, forget your vows, knock over a light, eat too much, eat too little, eat the right amount, whatever it is that your hands find to do, do it. And I will stand with you and watch as your day becomes your own. Don't change a thing for me, or for anyone. Not even your mum or grandma- tell her you love her with all your heart but this is your wedding and its been a story that started being built the day you gasped for air.


Like me, you too have a long story of death, decay, hope and love. I'll do my best to understand that and capture it in your eyes.












"'I don't like anything here at all, step or stone, breath or bone. Earth, air and water all seem accursed. But so our path is laid. We shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those that just went on - and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into? I wonder, but I don't know. And that's the way of a real tale. Take any one that you're fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don't know. And you don't want them to. Why, to think of it, we're in the same tale still! It's going on. Don't the great tales never end? No, they never end as tales, but the people in them come, and go when their part's ended. Our part will end later - or sooner."












below is a series of personal photos.


the men you see here are all my heros.