2025 Residency photography project.

As I prepare for the first showing of Desire Lines—a community project born from immense suffering and fear—I reflect on how it came to be. The suffering comes from the multiple chronic illnesses I live with, and the fear comes from feeling like I have no place in a society that continually ignores what I and so many others must navigate: deep ignorance, greed, and a lack of compassion.

As I’ve aged into a beautiful, middle-aged woman with rich lived experience and resilience, it has puzzled me that we are so consistently placed in corridors of shame and guilt. And I’m not just talking about hospitals—I’m talking about the workforce, social systems, and an economic imbalance that has caused, and will continue to cause, devastating effects for me and my counterparts who must walk through a system seemingly designed to ignore and belittle us.

After yet another long stint in hospital, I made a decision: I would no longer accept how society places us. I would use my passion for art and imagery to show the ignorant who we are—and why we are not worthless. That is where Desire Lines was created: lying in a hospital bed, tears rolling down my face, wondering how to show our truth.

The idea was simple. I would photograph people who had a story to tell—stories of overcoming great pain, of cultivating deep resilience from circumstances placed upon them or in front of them, and emerging on the other side, scars and all. Those scars are our desire lines.

The official meaning is below:

Desire lines are unofficial paths that people create by repeatedly taking the most convenient route, often ignoring or bypassing planned walkways. These “desire paths” appear in both urban and natural environments and represent the shortest or easiest way between two points. They reveal how people truly move through a space and are often used by planners and designers to refine or redesign official pathways.

I knew I could take a decent photo. I knew I had the courage to put myself out there. And I knew enough people trusted me with their pain—and that more would come. What I didn’t know was how to use the Nikon D750, or how I was going to pull off this wild idea. But fuck it—what do I have to lose? When someone has very little left, it’s hard to fear losing anything at all.

After being awarded a short two-month residency at Fremantle Arts Centre for this project, I hit the ground running with my shitty little laptop, my partner’s Nikon, and a chair in a tiny studio. And as I expected, they came—and they came like wildfire. I knew how to turn the camera on and shoot in auto; the rest became history. My only objective was to make every person who walked through that studio feel seen, heard, and appreciated.

The outcome has been incredible. So I invite you all into my journey—from not knowing what the fuck I’m doing to creating a body of work that has changed my life forever.

I will be opening Desire Lines 2026 very soon should you wish to have any questions or want to register contact via below.