The Flesh and Bones


I am the muse, the photographer.and the scribe.

Which came first? A reasonable question.

The answer remains mysterious.

Ethereal as the twisted trees in a silent forest.

Shadowy as a room painted with sunlight.

Fluid as a heartbeat felt beneath my naked breast.


I’ve been working on this project for a couple of years now and excited about it’s birth into the world!


Under my Fingernails: like a well-dug garden

“Before leaving Australia, Gregory had assured me that I would love the cobble-stone streets and side-stepping dog poo in Paris, but he couldn’t anticipate how the countryside and it’s people would creep under my fingernails like a well-dug garden. In these early scratchings of new soil, I discovered that my neighbours had an unbroken thread of knowledge that would-be back to the land types in the New World could only dream about.”

This photographic portfolio is available at