A bush kid from the Kimberley, Western Australia, where stories are as natural as the humid air we breathe. Now a grown-up in age but not in attitude, living in Bundjalung Nation. From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific, the North Atlantic to the South, stories have spellbound me towards the curious and the simple, landing me here. A resident gardener, ecology empath, surf rat, adorer of art and experimenter of most; tell me something unusual or teach me something new, and my intrigue is assured.
Kate Middeleer co-editor
It took me a very long time to learn to read (longer to spell). In an effort to expedite the process, I’d soak up words wherever I could; the backs of shampoo bottles in the shower, tissue boxes in bed, and milk cartons at the breakfast table. It’s safe to say I now know how to read. But I still carry with me the lesson: when you’re in the dark on something, immerse yourself in it. The New York Times or the back of a cardboard box. Wherever, however.
It took me a very long time to learn to read (longer to spell). In an effort to expedite the process, I’d soak up words wherever I could; the backs of shampoo bottles in the shower, tissue boxes in bed, and milk cartons at the breakfast table. It’s safe to say I now know how to read. But I still carry with me the lesson: when you’re in the dark on something, immerse yourself in it. The New York Times or the back of a cardboard box. Wherever, however.
Teagan Kruse
Birthed straight onto that sticky carpet of a Melbourne bar’s band room. Guided through life by art, music, and literature. I’ve wandered rainforests to taste the inside of trees just to check if the book I read had their flavor right. I’ve dived to the ocean floor to see if all sand dots are that same sand colour everywhere. I’ve made my way along mountains or scaled atop buildings just to make sure the clouds didn’t smell different from up there. But mostly, I just skip along with a book in my hand, and a song in my head, severely caffeinated, a little crazed, and always completely terrified!
Birthed straight onto that sticky carpet of a Melbourne bar’s band room. Guided through life by art, music, and literature. I’ve wandered rainforests to taste the inside of trees just to check if the book I read had their flavor right. I’ve dived to the ocean floor to see if all sand dots are that same sand colour everywhere. I’ve made my way along mountains or scaled atop buildings just to make sure the clouds didn’t smell different from up there. But mostly, I just skip along with a book in my hand, and a song in my head, severely caffeinated, a little crazed, and always completely terrified!
It’s pretty much just about walking around and finding stuff in the bush, and then talking about it. Otherwise enjoying the feeling of electronically charged water particles on the skin. A life spent appreciating the beauty of natural things. What more could you ask for?
The reeking gutters of Sydney’s inner-west grew me, but would not recognise me. I lost the ability to speak in those dreary streets (though you would not think it to meet me now), with words in my ears, words in my arms in the form of stacks upon stacks of heavy hardcovers or tattered paperbacks in my jacket pockets. Words in my head and on my fingertips as I desperately tried to portray what I saw and what I heard and how it made me feel. As I tried to explain myself, justify myself, without the voice to do so, I had just one steadfast companion.
I guess you can find me, now, in Byron Bay. Either in the sea or with my peoples. Ebbing and flowing with the tides.
I wonder,
often.
My style of craft will always be led by curiosity. Documenting through visual enactment and sometimes through written words. More often than not, neither creation is presented for the public. Holding onto memories with film and other mediums alike.
I wonder,
often.
My style of craft will always be led by curiosity. Documenting through visual enactment and sometimes through written words. More often than not, neither creation is presented for the public. Holding onto memories with film and other mediums alike.
Raised Rastafarian, my early years were spent adventuring rather wildly in vibrant Eastern Africa. My mother, sister and I moved to Australia, and in this sleepy country town reading and writing became my escapism. Through my adult years this has kept me sane, especially as I’ve transitioned from maiden to mama of two daughters. Authentic expression through writing assists in keeping my dreamy mind dreaming.
From the city to the sea, to the vibrant hinterlands of the Northern Rivers, my inspiration seems to greet me at the intersection of the brilliant and the quirky. The environment I find myself in, and the people that surround me, continue to collide with beautiful calamity at this intersection. With a pen and paper in my back pocket and a camera slung over my shoulder, the notion of a story going unnoticed is amiss.
Joel Benguigui
I was born in Denpasar of Flores, East Indonesia and raised in Paris. Since reconnecting with my roots and biological family in Indonesia, I have moved away from commercial commissions and focused on an aesthetic that speaks to humankind’s relationship to both the built and natural world. From working with analogue film and hand processing all images, my work is an invitation into stillness.
I am a cinematographer, editor and photographer residing in the Northern Rivers, New South Wales. I have been doing the tango with Indonesia and here over the last number of years, most recently arriving back after a long stint in Sumatra. Shooting has given me wings to travel the world, though no matter where I am my addiction to instant ramen remains the same. Fittingly, I have been given the name ‘mr mie kuah’, which translates to mr. noodle soup.
An essayist and poet. A collaborator in South-London’s Tantum Collective, published in New River Press, Augienflieck, and Moof. I don’t know if there is anything interesting about me. My parent’s disagree on my birthday-- does that count?
It seems I’ve fallen into most things in my life, whether it be a young entrepreneur selling yo-yo strings, a handcrafter of vinyl sticker characters, a Bboy and a documenteur of the breakdancing scene, or a film creative. I am a curious observer, which often leads to some strange, awkward encounter and along the way I’ve found that these things inform the way I tell stories. Plus, being a dad of two young boys means it’s always an adventure in the Saik household.
Northern Rivers Independent Press operates on the unceded lands of the Bundjalung Arakwal people, the Minjungbal people and the Widjabul Wia-bal people.
We acknowledge these custodians, and the Traditional Owners of Country throughout Australia. We pay our respect to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures, and to Elders both past and present. We recognise the continuing connection to lands, waters, skies, communities and stories.