I moved from the couch, to the floor, to reduce the smell of
baby vomit wafting into my nostrils. With the cushion under my bottom, and the
back of the couch to lean on, I am sufficiently comfortable and likely cozier
than when curled on a jagged rock, as I so often am. I have reached the age in which an increasing
number of my friends are married and have entered the stage of baby creation. I
am able to cross into this world of babies, cooing softly and flapping my arms
like a stupid human bird to encourage a smile from a young human (for us adults, watch this video instead chicken dance techno), and enjoy the
simplicity of a child, and yet live in a
world far removed. Could you imagine a traveling model with a baby to care for?
A young creature in the main part of the studio while creating art on a
pedestal, couch, or seamless backdrop, sleeping until the next burst of tears
for attention. And location shoots, with
a baby to watch over – an impossibility. I have a difficult enough time keeping
my backpack in sight while climbing rocks up a river, heading increasingly
farther away from my starting point, that the idea of having a living, loving,
beautiful being to worry about boggles my brain.
Soon I will be back in California, visiting with family and
overcoming jet lag from an arduously long string of flights back from
Australia, and will be given another dose of baby time with my nephew and
niece. I will likely stay the crazy auntie, as I am the one in my family who
does not have the picture perfect existence but uniquely vagabonds with a purpose.
There are aspects of the settled, successful lives of my siblings which I
desire, but I can wait on the house, spouse and child under each arm. Today I am in Australia, tomorrow I shall be
as well, and after a double dose of Tuesday, I will be back in the United
States.
My afternoon shoot had cancelled, and after a well paced day
of climbing naked on one of the oldest functioning bridges in Australia (I
believe the photographer had informed me the bridge was the second oldest functioning bridge in Australia, but I shall not claim this in the event I remembered
incorrectly or the fact was mistaken), walking on a train track, sticking my bottom out of a tree in Dandedong National Park (although never quite as perfectly as we wanted for the photo), dressing in
said tree before hikers came around, washing off and dirtying myself in the
same waterfall and standing next to metal birds in a beautifully manicured
park, I treated myself to lunch of dumplings and salty green Asian vegetables.
I resisted the urge for that delicious pastry, more on basis of stomach space
than willpower and later satisfied my sweet urges with a mango. A bit of
laundry, a shower and a nap later, and the rested version of myself was ready
to begin emails for a while, and entertain and be distracted by the small child
of my photographer friends.
This rambling blog entry was inspired by baby vomit, small
in quantity and relatively harmless, but something I do not need in my life.
Both 100% baby-free
Katja Gee and Keira Grant
Photo by RJWG Photography
Edited by Keira Grant
Street Photography by Keira Grant
Hard Rubbish Day
Ormond, Melbourne, Australia
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