After taking over 800 photos so far this semester I have found that there are ideas coming up from the depth, making their way through the weight of the number.

Snake Valley has had two consuming fires in the last decade, and the traces of its touch can still be seen throughout my parents’ forty acres of bushland. Black Saturday has changed the way we all view bushfires and I am no different. King Lake was were my parents meet, where I became, and where I lived out my early years along with my four siblings. The house we once lived in is gone now, along with so much more. Family friends were lucky to survive with their lives but not all with their homes.

The bush no longer feels so tranquil for many. The scar runs so deep, the loss so great that time can never hope to remove its trace. They lies a reminder in the mind, heart and body of the land and its inhabitants. The humans and animals affected are too raw a subject matter for me, but I do find myself drawn to the land. I feel that it shows us that the healing of trauma is possible. That although traces remain new growth can occur. From negative, positive can be found. The power in the will to continue is strong, new life will occur from the blackness. Hope still resides in what remains.