2014, the year I got married.

We drank red wine and swam and practised our vows until 1am the night before. I swam in my wedding dress at the same time the next night. Our friends and family wrote us love notes that we will re-read for the rest of our lives.
We honeymooned and watched sunrises and sunsets over the Aegean ocean. We slept in til midday and then napped til 3pm. We rode quad bikes and followed stray dogs down the street in the hope of a quick pat in Greece. We ate waffles and drank cherry beer in Belgium, we ate cheese and gourmet cakes in parks in Lyon. In Paris, an older couple we had never met bought us a $150 bottle of champagne. Just because.

2014, the year I took on too much work.

Also the year I worked for the Rolling Stones, and the year I was flown to London to photograph a wedding and the bride and groom thanked me (??). The year I travelled for work more than ever and my husband Skyped me each night with our hound.
The year so many more people than ever before invited me to take part in their lives and witness moments of happy.
The year I got to photograph portraits of some of the world’s most influential corporates as if they were regular people.
The year I photographed a wedding wearing Vivian Westwood and Converse sneakers.
The year a top 50 ASX listed company made me their in-house photographer and gave me the rope by which to swing or hang.
The year my craft finally shredded my knees and fractured my feet to the point of surgery.
The year I graduated to conscious competence in my craft.

2014, the year I thought my heart would explode.

Not just from getting married, but it was also the year my mother and brothers and nieces road-tripped back to the town I was born and the place my brothers grew up that we hadn’t set foot in for 25 years. I got to hear my brothers tell stories while standing on the spots those stories were created. I got to see my nieces stand on those spots too.
The year I finally saw the brothers I idolised had become the kind of fathers we’d wished ours had been. I got to see them play tiggy with their kids while hopping on one foot to even the ability on the field. I also got to watch them waterbomb those same kids in the face with the same glee they would have had landing one in the face of an adult.
The year my favourite Australian band finally got the traction they deserved. Men with talent and loyalty to their craft who continue to bust ass.
The year I got to see my oldest best friend twice in one year. In February she flew back to Melbourne to be at my wedding, in July I was working in her adopted hometown of London.
The year best friends planned a wedding in secret and let me and my husband in on it. And asked us to witness which was also the first time we signed something together with matching surnames.

2014 was the year my photos turned up across the web, on TV, in print and in film. The year I was named in the credits of the Nick Cave documentary, 20,000 Days On Earth. The year I listened to Jake Bugg, Ben Folds, Band of Skulls, Frightened Rabbit, and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds on repeat.

These are the photos that will let me time travel back to all these things in the years to come.