On The Farm

These photo’s, this place, his face, are as familiar to me as my own skin. Sometimes I think I am watching myself as a little girl holding my fathers hand, collecting the eggs and riding in Grandpa’s ute. Then I realise this is my daughter and I am the women standing close by.¬†Sure the chicken pen may be in a different spot but the heart of this land remains the same some fifty years later and that’s my father Trevor. There is so much I want to say about him, about how he is my measure of good, about how he breaks the mould of what a real man should be but this subject is too big for words or my heart so maybe another time or maybe I will keep this just for me. One thing I will say dad, is that for everything you sacrificed, for all your hard work, the blood sweat and tears, you gave us the world and now you are giving it to my children.

FYI I do have a mother, her name is Nancy and on this particular day she was hiding. Behind shed doors, crouching in utes and generally hovering close by hoping one of the children will let her smother them with kisses. If you know Nancy, you will understand that this is normal behaviour. She thinks she is a funny old thing that doesn’t belong in front of the camera but she doesn’t realise that she is the most beautiful women in the world.

Photographer Sam Elsom | Styling + Creative Sheree Commerford

The kids wear vintage from Catgk Brocante with Blundstone boots and riding hat from Mamapapa | Trevor wears his work clothes and I play farm also in Catgk Brocante and military attire with Isabel Marant boots.