A Road In The Wilderness

I believed for most of my life that I had been given a gift of creativity in the sense of written and performing arts. I would proudly own that label all the time, often identifying as dancer, writer, poet, singer. But scarcely would I explore visual arts. Quite the opposite - I would actively avoid any such expressions.

I never gave much thought as to why I did this, after all, we all have different talents and outworkings of creativity. This wasn't the driving force behind my avoidance, though. As I entered a journey of unbecoming in 2018, and learned more and more about the things that hindered, limited and shaped me, I was forced to swallow a very bitter pill. The real reason that I found it hard to express myself through visual art (such as drawing, photography etc.) is because I'd never done it before. Deeper still, I was intensely uncomfortable to try these art forms because I had a deep rooted fear that I I wouldn't be immediately 'good' at something.

You see, for much of my life I have been somewhat naturally talented - from dance to guitar, piano, singing, writing and even schooling. The thought of being 'bad' at something was so crippling to me that it would be preferable to completely disqualify myself before even attempting it. I was so ashamed that I would try something and fail, that I would prefer not to try at all.

Late last year, I visited Melbourne on a short trip and felt prompted to bring along a camera that my mum had gifted me, her old Nikon D5000. It was so enjoyable capturing photos with no agenda to be 'good' at it, but simply to learn to delight in the process. Joy, simplicity and creativity outran me. For once in my 27 years of life, I can say that I authentically relished in the exploration of being open, and trying things I'd never tried before.

I couldn't tell you exactly where I took this photo (however Melbourne locals may know). I remember that nearly the entire time I was in Melbourne, it was cold, rainy and overcast. This usually would have dampened my North Queensland soul, who loves the sunshine, the humidity and the balmy breeze on my skin. Yet for some reason, I loved how polarising it was to my preferences. I drove for an hour or so out of the city to a nature reserve, and wandered in with only my mum’s camera in hand. I remember looking at the pathway and loving the rawness and harshness of the road before me, only hoping that I’d be able to capture the emotion of the landscape with my newly evolving photographic skills. I picked up a bottlebrush flower that had fallen on the ground, and held it in front of the lens as I'd seen my photographer friend Rachela Nardella do many times before.

I clicked, and this is the photo - raw and unedited, gritty and moody, much like the journey I took to press that button. It will always be one of my favourite photos, because it captured such a time of sincerity, authenticity and nakedness in my life. It may not be the most artful, precise or creative image, but it is my image.

I can’t help but consider the poignancy of what this image carries, given the time we are in. A time that is full of chaos and uncertainty, dismantling and deconstruction. A time in which we are forced to consider what rings true to us as individuals, and a society. A time in which the confines of space don’t have to equal the confines of our expression or humanity.

This photo is just a road in the wilderness, which travels on toward a path of untapped newness. A picture of a pilgrimage. An image that reminds me, as Ram Dass said, “we are all just walking each other home.”