My Creative

Journey

I have lived a thousand lifetimes since I ran barefooted along the untamed shores of South Africa where I grew up. I was raised in a small beach town surrounded by family and loving parents who taught me the value of hard work, but also emboldened me to dream. As a child I was happiest immersed in nature, daydreaming about the adventure and romance that beckoned to me from across the ocean.

A born nurturer and avid learner; I pursued a career that would challenge me and also allow me to work creatively with children in need. Occupational therapy felt like my calling. That was until I became a mother. In 2017, after years of unexplained infertility and failed fertility treatments, our beautiful son, Finn, filled a void in the world that nobody had yet realized existed. He was  born a warrior, with half a heart and a 50% chance of making it to his first birthday. Six months after his third open heart surgery, he unexpectedly went into heart failure and was listed for a heart transplant. The very same day our lives changed forever when he was given an unexplained diagnosis of diabetes that baffled his medical team and eventually led to the discovery of a rare neurodegenerative disease called Wolfram Syndrome. His prognosis still completely unknown.

Finn received his new heart in April 2022, but his battle is far from over. His beautiful, yet fragile existence has become a forever reminder of the inexorable paradox of life. We live in a world where families kiss their children goodbye too soon and take a deep breath for each milestone met. The unknowns waver between a debilitating fear and an unexpected gift reminding us to be grateful for dirty finger printed walls. In our world the darkest parts of fear and grief are always lurking, but hope and gratitude keep them at bay. 

I discovered photography in search of a place to lay my feelings. At first it was a means to hold on, vise-like, to the time that threatened to take my son away from me. But as my guard softened, it evolved into an escape from fear and grief; a means to connect, to be vulnerable, to preserve and to heal on my own terms.  My art is an extension of me. Within it you might recognize that wild, whimsical dreamer. A yearning to slow and savor time, or a subdued echo of grief juxtaposed by a sense of heartfelt gratitude and hope. It is the voice I was given to share our story and help others tell theirs. 

Photo credit: Aimee Louise Photography