A time where teenage girls waited in the blistering sun for their boyfriend to catch the last wave of the day, only to walk past them with little regard for the hours they spent waiting.
The fading red and eventual peeling of a childsshoulders.
Thongs strewn across the front verandah, rubber soles rotting under the heat of the December sun.
Chairs littered across every shaded area, left empty as their occupants escape the heat by slowly lowering their sunburnt backs into the closest body of water.
Through this body of work I wanted to go to a place I have spent my life driving past, too caught up in where we were going to stop and see what was behind the gates. As soon as we pulled off the main road I felt a sense of belonging, people slowly wandered down the winding road with a towel draped around their neck oblivious to the wonder I felt as I made my way through 6 rolls of film with ease. Everywhere I turned there was a story, and my aim was simply to capture these stories that have been waiting to be told.
I grew up spending my summer holidays in a shack a street away from the beach with a pull-chain toilet you had to walk out into the blistering afternoon sun to get to, therefore my perspective was one of wistful affection and overwhelming nostalgia.
