During my residency I arrived with the intention of beginning a new photographic book project titled The Good Goodbyes, a work that would weave together photographic sequences and text (poetic, diaristic, and fragmentary) to explore themes of departure, absence, and the quiet poetry of letting go.
Instead of simply gathering material for the book, I found myself writing intensively. Over the course of the residency I completed 11 new stories and text fragments. The deep silence and immersive natural environment at Bundanon created the perfect conditions for memory and emotion to surface. The stillness of the land, the river and the bushland acted as a kind of emotional mirror, helping me access feelings that had been difficult to reach in daily life. Many of the texts came out raw and unfiltered, often typewritten in long sessions outdoor at the bench table outside the Homestead.
At the same time, I gave myself permission to experiment technically. I moved away from my usual film photography practice and began playing with alternative printing processes:
- Chlorophyll photographic printing
- Coating my own paper
- Printing on transparencies and exposing them in direct sunlight
These experiments were messy and deeply enjoyable. Some images emerged beautifully; others failed in interesting ways. These material tests helped me define the exact aesthetic I want for the final book.
One of the most satisfying moments was assembling a small dummy book. Holding the physical mock-up in my hands, combining the new texts with the experimental prints felt really good.
Strangely, this clarity also brought a feeling of completion. After writing those 11 stories, it felt as though this particular creative chapter had closed. The project had transformed from something I wanted to begin into something I had already moved through.
Bundanon gave me the gift of uninterrupted time and space. The residency helped me understand when to let go of it and move forward.
I’m leaving with a deeper appreciation for process-driven experimentation and gratitude for the land that held all of it so generously.
