~ Amy’s Place ~
As you enter through the front gates on your left sits a huge dam, well known to both locals and passers by for its hundreds of lily pads.
Continue on down the long tree lined driveway to the end, and around the back of the last tree to your left sits an old tank on its side and a small mound of dirt, home to the resident Border Collie.
An early 1970s mint condition white Holden ute with a black tonneau is parked in the nearby shed, further behind this some chooks are happily nesting in their house alongside the machinery shed, where you will find the little red tractor.
At the end of the driveway on your right is the farm house, enter through the back door drapped with plastic fly screen strips into the porch area, then through into the kitchen equipped with an old wood stove.
At the heart of this property stands a women... yes that’s right... a woman! Dressed in her work shirt, overalls and gumboots, with her calloused hands clutching a walking stick. Her crooked stance shows the toll years of working on the land has had on her body. A task she undertakes solo, having never married or had children. Meet Amy... this is her home and her life!
Countless times the photographer in me has seen an old building, fallen down shed or rusted out piece of machinery and thought “that would be a cool thing to shoot at night!” Where possible I try to find a story in what I’m photographing or research a places history, but this night shoot is very different.
As I jump over the flimsy gate and wander down the long driveway through the dark night: the dog, the chooks, the white Holden ute, the little red tractor and yes even the lily pads along with the women at it’s heart are all long gone... What I am picturing in my mind is not an imagined story nor investigative research but my own recollections and memories of a time 30-ish years earlier as a child growing up on the adjoining property. Amy was our neighbour!
It means a great deal to me having the opportunity to photograph here because I have my own personal connection with the property. Others going past may see a house falling to pieces, and old tin sheds, but I will always remember it as “Amy’s Place!”