TWO THOUSAND AND ELEVEN

 

Two thousand and eleven began by watching my parents drive away from our family home, beginning their new adventures in the bustling city of Melbourne. I said my last goodbyes to the empty rooms, packed my mothers scrawny tomato into the back seat of my car, and at newly eighteen, I drove to my new home. A small flat of two rooms nestled in a pretty tree lined street. That first month was a mixture of emotions, excitement at my newfound freedom in a city free of parents and rules, but also the intense missing of my mother and strange feeling of living an independent life. At times I was terribly miserable and lonely, but I had martin to pick me back up again. There were bills to be paid, food to be bought and cooked and a house to be cleaned.

My first job for the year was in a city office as an administration assistant. It was exciting and new and the people were lovely, but I soon found myself daydreaming out the window, longing to be in the sunshine with my camera. My days began to be consumed by my job, wake, eat, travel to work, work, travel home from work, eat, sleep. I had no time to photograph and my camera sat upon the shelf collecting dust for months. So many of us work fulltime office jobs, but it is not in my spirit to be trapped inside all day, for me, taking pictures is all that I am, and without that I am nothing. After some months, my mother came to visit, she told me it had to stop, and that if I were unhappy, only I could fix it. I left my job, sad to leave the wonderful people I had met, but excited for new adventures. 

At this time I considered moving to Melbourne, but with martin just starting an apprenticeship as a chef, it didn’t feel like the right time. I knew that if I were to move, it shouldn’t be to run away from my problems. So I had a month off to live and photograph. I saw friends again, shot a lookbook for casper&pearl, assisted local photographers, life was finally beautiful. But all good things come to an end, and I was forced to move home after I met the man who lived in the unit beneath mine. He was an older, Russian man, and after a brief meeting by my car, he started to knock on my door at late hours of the night, saying inappropriate things and frightening me. He would wait at my car, and the gate to our apartments, I could hear him laughing at all hours of the morning and night, and my home was no longer my safe place, but somewhere that I lived in fear. After a visit to the police, they looked the man up on their system, and told me I should move home. I packed up my things and my mother’s scrawny tomato plant and I left my home once again.

My new home was named the shanty. A ground floor unit in dire need of some TLC, an overgrown courtyard, brick walls and dented floorboards, to me it was beautiful. Martin and I had decided to live together now, with his long hours as a chef, and me not liking to sleep alone, it was certainly the best decision. I had started a new job, working nights as a processor at a bank. I can happily say it has been the best job I have ever had. With days free to photograph, and nights at a comfortable desk with good company. I worked hard over this time, starting my days at 7am shooting or assisting, and getting changed in my car at 5pm to rush to work, work became my rest time!

October brought some personal hardships but also my nineteenth birthday, I made a dinner party for friends and family. It marked a changing point for me, time to look forwards and not backwards. I started looking towards my options for the following year and what I was going to do with my life, and my pictures. I had travelled to Sydney to visit an old friend and explore and photograph the city. I applied for a university in Melbourne for photography (RMIT). I had little hopes of getting chosen, as thousands apply and only a handful of those are chosen to study the course. I was lucky enough to be called upon for an interview in Melbourne. I flew over with portfolio in hand and my heart in my throat. That trip to Melbourne reminded me how muchI loved the city.

a pretty park near my mothers house in melbourne

In the December mail, I received a letter from the university. I opened the letter with shaky hands. I was accepted, I would be joining the class of two thousand and twelve at RMIT university. Martin and I will be packing our lives up once again, and this time we will be travelling across states to the pretty city of Melbourne, I’m not sure my mothers tomato plant is going to make the distance this time round. Apart from some of the hardships of this year, I have been lucky enough to have travelled to Sydney, Melbourne and Tasmania, I’ve shot campaigns, worked with some very talented creative’s and clients. I’ve met people I’ll never forget, and kept those who I love close.