The Cracks Need to Remain

I recently gave an address for International Women’s Day at a function in Rockhampton. I’d like to share the basis of my speech here. Remember that “The cracks need to remain, that’s how the light gets in”

I was standing on the beach at sunrise in southern New South Wales. I was surrounded by other photographers. I was on my first trip away since separating from the man I devoted my life to.

Everyone was waiting for that moment – the perfect shot. But I wasn’t waiting for the perfect photo. I was waiting for the moment that my life stopped hurting.

My camera sat on its tripod precariously close to the waterline. The sky was pale and quite – the kind of dawn photographers sometimes dismiss as nothing special. But the glow touched the trees and the light shifted my focus.

Photography has a way of slowing time. It asks you to wait, to observe, to notice what’s happening beyond the obvious. As I watched the light move across the landscape I felt something inside me. It was recognition. I didn’t know it then, but I was learning how to see beyond what was in front of me and how to begin again.

I married young and moved far from my family to Queensland. We lived in a seed shed that we lovingly made a home. We had four beautiful sons. We built a business that survived a wild ride of good times and bad. Behind the scenes though, I had no voice.

The life I’d built for decades collapsed. I didn’t know who I was anymore.

Nothing prepares you for the moment your identity disappears. There’s a particular silence after loss and it isn’t peaceful.

Who am I now?

What do I believe?

How am I going to fix this?

I was forced to slow down and look at my life – not by choice but by survival.

I learnt to breathe, slowly.

I learned to forgive, slowly.

I learnt to be present.

I learnt to ask for help even though I believed needing it was a weakness.

There were people who stepped in without trying to fix me. They didn’t demand exclamations, or timelines. They held the light steady while mine was barely a flicker.

They reminded me that my voice mattered, my presence mattered and my work mattered.

Surrounding yourself with people who reflect your potential back to you is so so important.

Eventually life began to shift. Borrowed belief grew roots like a tree ravaged by drought or fire, somehow pushing new green life out again.

Healing into turn to courage.

Courage turned into action.

Action turned into commitment.

“the camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a Camera” Dorothea Lang

Photography entered the silence of my pain gently. At first it was a refuge and a reason to be outside. A reason to breathe. A way to be present in the moment. A way to look outward when looking inward felt too confronting.

Over time something subtle but profound began to happen.

I started seeing resilience in trees and the quiet persistence of the landscape that endure the elements and expect no applause. I learnt to listen to the quiet space in nature. Nature didn’t beg to be saved. It’s simply continued.

In learning where to stand, what to frame, and what to leave out, I learnt the light doesn’t erase the cracks. It enters through them. The lens points outwards but it allows light to come inwards. I felt it was time to take this seriously.

Long overdue, I changed my Instagram handle. I decided to make it A FORTUNATE LENS. I appreciated what I saw through my lens and I wasn’t afraid to show it.

I didn’t have formal training of photography, but it was a gift I couldn’t ignore. I didn’t really know what I was doing sitting in a masters of photography interview, but two days later I had a letter of offer!

That courage has led me onto a national stage in art exhibiting alongside acclaimed artists. I courageously entered many regional Gallery Art Awards, with huge success  –  I’m proud to share my view of this incredible world.

Belief didn’t arrive suddenly, and it still isn’t easy!  but it amazes me what I’ve been able to accomplish!

In 2026 I’m staying local more and producing my first photography book dedicated to the people and landscapes of Central Queensland. Its about light, land and legacy.

My word of the year is “shine”.

It’s not about being the perfect shining star, it’s about standing in your truth even when your voice trembles. And shining doesn’t mean erasing your past, it means letting everything you’ve lived through shape the way you move forward.

The cracks need to remain because the light needs to get in.

Today, I’m grounded in who I am not because the path was easy but because I chose to keep walking, I chose to see my life as fortunate through my own lens.

The sun doesn’t need permission to shine.

I don’t need permission.

Neither do you.

In my mind I returned to that beach not chasing the perfect shot. Just standing there on the sand where the sky changed and where the light arrives in its own time.

The cracks need to be there.

That’s how the light gets in.

So I want to invite you into a moment of pause.

Where are the cracks in your life right now?

How might the light already be getting in?

And what would it mean to see your life through a more fortunate lens?