Three hours into performing and still completely in it. Maracas, costume, grin unchanged. Boundary Street Festival 2014. Some people make the photograph for you.
Gold headdresses, street lighting, and frames that looked designed rather than found. Boundary Street Festival 2014. Get out of the way of what is already working.
Blue feathers, warm street light, a smile aimed at someone entirely off-camera. Boundary Street Festival 2014. The image landed exactly where it needed to.
Capoeira on a closed street, one body inverted, ring of twenty people standing still around them. Pre-visualisation, not reaction. Boundary Street, 2014.
Someone arranged those lotus flowers over hours before the festival opened. Photographing them took thirty seconds. The photograph holds the care, not the time.
Four dancers, four pink parasols, the same angle in the same moment β Southbank, Brisbane, 2015. That synchrony takes years. The photograph takes half a second.
She turned away from the audience mid-performance, Brisbane 2015. The trailing sleeve made the photograph. The cherry blossom branch in her raised hand was the discovery afterwards.
Father and daughter, both holding the Indian flag at the Musgrave Park celebration. He is there for the occasion. She is still figuring out what the flag actually is.
Pink shawl against a crowd of faces, subject turned away. The back-of-head portrait places the viewer alongside the subject rather than in front of them. It is underused.
Two girls in the same routine: the older one is already holding her form. The younger one is just dancing. That gap β before discipline becomes conscious β is the photograph.
Arms raised, head back, one second of full extension in a twenty-minute sequence. Black and white because the costume becomes architecture without the colour competing for attention.
She was watching the stage. The child was watching everything else. The split attention is the photograph β and it required them both to forget the camera was there.