New Ways of Seeing

My 'research' yesterday consisted of catching up on the latest episode of 'Poh and Co.' on SBS on Demand, continuing my vie...

The Palm Sunday rally in support of refugees, Sydney CBD With apologies to all those who are offended by the words ‘ethnic’ and ‘ghetto...

A photobook sent to the author by an anonymous sender She walks along Glebe Point Road, wishing she could live in one of those adorabl...

It is with a heavy heart (and an over-stimulated mind) that I prepare to bid farewell to this blog. My PhD project, the starting point of th...

When I first watched Philippe Claudel's I've Loved You So Long in a small theatre by myself over the Christmas break, I thought it...

I was alive but not living Not noticing the colour of the leaves in my backyard Or the texture of the wood in my office Or the varying tempe...

I'm tired of possibility and in dire want of the real thing. But the absence of possibility is also a dormant possibility of possibility...

I have developed this photo fetish of late. Flipping open my phone camera. Disregarding anonymous glares. Discovering the joy that is every...