A short story about my mum, (triggered by last months Mothers Day) . I want to chat about Motherhood, my mum and to reflect on the power of a photograph in the memory of people, time and place.
I have a little box of photographic prints of my childhood in the 70’s and I love looking at them.
But first….let’s get to Jo Croft…
My mum.
Leo. Nurturer. Artist. Sporty.
My mum grew up on a sheep and wheat farm in a remote part of NSW. Hot and dry, this was fair dinkum fly swatting territory. She was the eldest of 5 children and each morning would milk cows and perform other chores before catching the bus to school (which was a single classroom for all grades. Can you imagine?). On Friday nights, her parents would drive to the local pub and leave the kids in the car as they had a time whooping it up inside with lukewarm middies of beer (my Nanna loved her beer).
On the weekends my mum played tennis on dirt courts in the outback. I can just picture the ants meandering along the ground, the adults sipping cool sweet beverages under the shade of a single peppercorn tree with the sounds of magpies swooping above.
After mum studied what was called “Mothercraft and Nursing” in Sydney she took the best offer at marriage from my dad when my Grandfather shooed her off the farm. Johnny Croft or “Crofty” was a country boy with a great sense of fun and mum definately needed that.
Lorne, South Australia, 1976
Before she knew it, mum became a mum. First me and 11 months later, my sister Stephnie.
We were bustling (moving) around to various small country towns in Victoria and then NSW (dads job kept moving us). I have great memories of my childhood. A lot of outdoor exploring and running around naked. Always a sprinkler to cool off and frozen oranges to eat.
Wycheproof, Victoria, Australia. 1975
Mum stayed at home. She was fastidious with chores and seemed busy with the home making. She was a great crafty person and sewed all of our clothes. I loved a special occasion when we would visit the fabric store to pick patterns and textiles for an outfit. I recall a tartan pant and puffy sleeved blouse for my 1st communion with a matching patent leather buckle shoe that I would still wear to this day if I could! She also sewed 2 gowns for Grade 10 and 12 graduation parties. These were pretty crazy ideas but mum worked on the details late into the night. These gowns were amazing (2 words…taffeta and puff) but unfortunately didn’t really catch Matthew Skewes’ eye. I settled for Fred Jackson.
Things I have in common with mum.
Loves Coffee. Red hair. Crafty. Loves the beach.
Differences.
She likes instant. She can tan. She’s better at knitting and I crochet. Doesn’t swim.
I cried for an entire month when I left home at 17 because I missed her so much.
This is a polaroid I took of mum in her garden (also, she’s an excellent gardener) in Wagga Wagga, Australia. Not sure of the year. I really love this and have it on my dresser.
Abraham. Newborn at home. December 2015
4 x 5 Polaroid
I was nervous becoming a mother. Was I going to be as nurturing as my mother was? Would I be a sleep deprived cranky bitch?
When Abraham was born, I started planning getting him to Australia straight away. It just seemed necessary. We flew into Sydney when he was 3 months old. Mum caught the XPT train from Wagga Wagga to meet us there and see Abraham for the first time. I felt relieved to be there despite the most horrendous flight and Sydney was scorching hot. Baby Abraham was screaming and mum quickly recognized it was the heat. She settled him with cool cloths and he was giggling soon enough.
Abraham around 3 months old.
Mum reading to Abraham on our trip to Australia at the beginning of 2016.
I took an obsessive amount of photographs the first year. It was like a little art project for myself. I shot digital, film and polaroids. The interesting thing is that it actually just comes down to a small hand full of prints. It has to be a physical print for me.
I have a box of prints of random photographs from my childhood and I love looking them. Feelings are triggered. Recollection.
I already have some favourite images as a mum. I keep them close. A little portrait piece of my heart. Collection.
Long Point Beach, 2016
I have been considering the box of prints from childhood and I am dreaming of a way to offer that ‘snap’ of family life to my clients. Something simple. Something printed. A different experience from dressing in our Sunday best for an arranged session (which I also think is important) but an uncontrived ‘snapshot’ that can trigger our deep collective memory of family.
Do you love this? Message me yes!