When Wilderness Enters the Workplace.

There are moments in an artist’s journey that remind you why you first lifted a camera, why you continue to walk, observe, and listen to the landscapes that shape your imagination. Watching a photograph leave your archive and enter someone else’s daily world is one of those moments. This happened recently when one of my 2024 aerial images of Lake Bunyampaka, a composition shaped by mineral textures, shifting colours, and the quiet geometry of a wilderness seemingly untouched, found a new home.

Seeing the print framed and mounted on an office wall brought a new layer of meaning to the work. In the field, the lake felt vast and almost otherworldly, shaped by wind, evaporation, and the steady rhythms of human labour. Inside the office, the photograph becomes a gentle interruption: a window into a landscape defined by movement and transformation.

Bunyampaka’s wildness, its mirrored blues, salt lines, and earthy gradients, comes alive during the dry season, when miners’ activities across their individual plots create a patchwork of colour. From above, these routines form a living canvas: pink and green hues unfolding beside sharp mineral lines, tonal shifts emerging where water thins and minerals rise. Now, those colours sit in quiet dialogue with the calm order of a workspace, reminding anyone who passes that nature’s stories follow us, even far from the field.

The contrast between the lake’s rugged ggeometric patterns and the stillness of the room offered me a moment of pause. It felt like the landscape had found a second life, carrying its quiet poetry into new environments. Experiences like this affirm what draws me to aerial work, the chance to reveal stories written on the land, and to let those stories travel.