In life, In death

(2024)

Access the catalogue of In Life, In Death, along with the accompanying essay ‘How to Separate the Soul: An Essay in Three Parts’ written by Hannah Donnelly: HERE

In Life, In Death responds to the overwhelming collective unrest experienced by Indigenous peoples, who are both witnesses to and targets of settler-colonial destruction locally in Australia and across colonised lands worldwide. This series confronts not only visible acts of violence but also the ongoing structural and social conditions that uphold racism and oppression, revealing the persistent and unyielding nature of settler-colonial harm. The work is rooted in a foundation of Indigenous collective consciousness as a quiet, resolute force that carries memory, resistance, and deep ancestral knowledge across generations.

The work constructs a staged narrative where grief and resilience unfold, inviting viewers into a liminal space between the visible and the unseen. Through layering self-portraiture and poetry, the series imagines an inner landscape where ancestral spirits guide the living through trauma. These spirits do not merely watch; they embody intergenerational wisdom and stand as unwavering pillars, providing refuge amid the flames of grief. Their presence offers profound guidance, transforming pain into catharsis and igniting a sacred fire of resilience. Through deep listening and spiritual attunement, the conscious mind opens portals within the psyche, creating spaces where ancestral connections become tangible and healing forces.

Events of colonial violence carry their own weight of loss and injustice. The rejection of the ‘Voice’ referendum in Australia in 2023 was not simply a political failure. It reaffirmed the deep-rooted inequalities that continue to shorten Aboriginal lives and deny justice. My mother’s terminal health struggles reflect these systemic inequities that shape and limit Indigenous lifespans. Alongside this personal grief, the ongoing colonisation and genocide faced by Palestine form connected threads in the broader fabric of historical and ongoing colonial violence. Though distant in place and time, these events reveal how one form of violence replaces another, and how the cycle of colonial harm persists unbroken through history and the present day. Indigenous peoples continue to fight and heal, carrying this burden together, drawing strength from collective memory and ancestral presence that lives within and around them.

Through the deliberate staging of self-portraits, my body becomes a space of storytelling and defiance, a vessel that embodies both vulnerability and resilience. It is here, within the stillness of the frame, that ancestral voices whisper through gesture, silence, and shadow. The subtle weaving of poetry as tears streak down the face creates a performative and intimate visual language. These faint lines invite contemplation of exhaustion, grief, and the quiet endurance of spirit. In this intimate choreography, ancestral insight emerges not as a metaphor but as a lived connection, called upon in moments of stirred unrest. The final line of the poem, “I scream back,” is withheld from the images, serving as a private declaration of defiance and self-preservation, an unspoken resistance to the violence seeking to silence.

This series engages with the complexity of inherited trauma while imagining new possibilities for connection and healing. It demands empathy, inviting viewers into a sacred space where ancestral knowledge offers solace and guidance. These sacred spaces, rooted in Indigenous cosmologies, are conjured not only through images but also through the act of remembering, feeling, and listening with the soul. Photography here transcends documentation; it becomes a means of giving presence to what is often unseen - the spiritual, emotional, and historical landscapes shaped by colonial legacies. The ancestors are always present; their voices resonate here through images and words, reminding us that honouring grief can purify and guide us back home.

By confronting the ongoing cycles of violence and structural inequality, In Life, In Death does not offer an escape but a necessary starting point. It embraces imperfection and vulnerability, using staging and poetic elements to open pathways toward understanding and resilience. The work reclaims the body and spirit from colonial wounds and systemic injustice, embodying the power of imagining new realities grounded in cultural survival, spiritual insight, and ancestral strength.

I scream back