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Photography, Words, Art, and Mentoring. "All stories are worth sharing; I capture everything 🥺"
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01/09/2026

Thank you.

I have all these images on my laptop and all these words in my head but I can only get two down onto paper. Thank you. Okay a few more than a couple. Thank you everything for everyone and thank you everyone for everything.

Its crazy. That things that saved you from the darkness one day becomes the very fu***ng thing that returns you to the light. You go from people asking if youre sure this dream is sustainable and telling you youre delusional then you open an exhibition alongside your best friend and people go ahh this is magic! Its always been magic I am just finally learning to transcriube it. I am still a baby on this jounrey! There is still lots to learn and a million things to distill and refine. Man, the world doesn't stop after you steo through a door and into a dream but f**k me does it get more vibrant. As well as more real - dreams come with obligations and requires sacfrice and discxpline. People look at artists sometimes like we are something special but honestly most of us are humans whose inner worlds were too vivid to ever stay inside. I am still that kid playing with crayons. I am still that teen reading as escape. I am still that heart-broken young man who tarnished others in his pursuit of oblivion. I am still that man who got tired of himself and his bu****it. I will forever be a reflection of the universe. I will forever be a 'lost in the fu***ng mind, found in the fu***ng soul' kind of spirit. But now I am also something else - something undefineable. Something fu***ng human.

When you spend years afraid its scary to return and its even scarier to stay but I am here and I have art and this community to thank for that. I should also thank myself but that feels too weird within my nervous system. To everyone that has and will continue to support this crazy bare-footed soul I thank you from the bottom of my soul!

God, Ila we created something really special and this is 100% a moment we will look back on and be like f**k WE DID THAT?! Who the f**k did we think we were!!!

Something Human is on until 19th September 10am to 3pm everyday.

(no proofreading. no drafting. no 'perfection'. a raw stream of post-opening consciousness)

17/08/2026

Creative WindDown at Something Human
29 August, 4.30pm to 8pm at The Incubator Hub.

Tauranga is experiencing an art explosion with the Tauranga Art Show and Something Human, so we thought, what better way to spend the evening than making art, listening to live music, and reminding ourselves why we create in the first place?

Join us at The Incubator Creative Hub for a Creative WindDown. Explore Something Human, make art, relax and refill your creative cup, with live music from The Incubator resident musicians Tym and Nic.

Tym and Nic are Tauranga born brothers and musicians behind Intranautic Studios. Tymothy is a producer, engineer and songwriter with a love for guitar, analog synthesis and recording. Nick is a composer, producer and multi-instrumentalist, with a focus on piano, drums and ukulele, alongside music theory and jazz.

Bring your curiosity, your willingness to play, and an open mind. We’ll bring the rest. Everything you need to create will be provided.

13/08/2026

I've been overwhelmed with abundance. I've been drowning in everything I once so desperately cried for. I've been energetically f**ked as my mind has been cuckolding my spirit fu***ng my soul. I have been softening my nervous system. I've been emptying so I be refilled. I've been dissolving so I can form anew. I've been staying when I've wanted to run. I've been rewiring learnt behaviours and reframing old narratives. I'm been so busy existing I've forgotten my gratitude. Here in the post: I return.

Thank you to my family. Thank you to stories. Thank you to my soul ties (friends). Thank you everyone and everything. And, thank you to me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Oh, f**k me I am so thankful!

01/08/2026

I am learning that my past selves are already dead. Hating them is like screaming into a grave and expecting an answer. They broke things. They broke walls. They broke people. They broke me. None of it becomes less true because I have found softer words to describe harder years. The universe does not care that I understand myself now. Pavements do not uncrack. Destruction does not unhappen. Memory offers no appeals. There is only this life-sentence of consciousness, where the person who knows better inherits the consequences of the one who didn't. My fists believed they could silence pain by making something else hurt first. Violence only echoes. I cannot unclench yesterday. I cannot rescue the man I refused to be. All I can do is open my hands today. Open hands cannot rewrite history, but they can refuse to repeat it. They can carry instead of destroy. They can hold another hand without trying to control it. They can build what rage could only break. Maybe this is simply the cost of becoming someone who no longer mistakes strength for a clenched fist.

My past will remain a graveyard, but I no longer need to lie beside the bodies I buried there. I can visit the ruins without calling them home. I can remember the names of the people I hurt, the versions of myself I destroyed, the moments where anger spoke louder than love, without surrendering my entire existence to them. The graves will remain. The walls will remain. The echoes will remain. There are some things that time does not heal; it simply teaches us how to carry them without letting them carry us. I spent years believing punishment was proof that I understood the damage. I believed if I hated myself enough, I could somehow repay what was lost. But hatred is only another form of captivity. It keeps the wound open and calls the bleeding honesty. These hands cannot reach into the past and pull back what was broken. They cannot rewrite the story that brought me here. But they can write the next page. They can choose not to destroy. They can choose not to close. And maybe that is all a person ever truly has: not the power to change where they came from, but the courage to decide where they go next.

And I choose to wander towards love, not as a man who has forgotten his darkness, but as one who has finally stopped worshipping it. I open my hands, soften my chest, and let whatever the f**k remains of me become something that can hold rather than harm.

I am slowly becoming a new me.

19/07/2026

To be witnessed is to be understood. To be understood is to be seen. To be seen is to be loved. To be loved is to feel at home in the mind. So this is just me saying I see you and all of your complexities, and I ain't looking away.

16/07/2026

In a world breaking itself into sides, I still believe there is a place where everything we argue over dissolves into something ancient and true. That place is love. I hope to meet you there. I don’t have a map, but you’ll find your way if you just open your heart and free your mind.

14/07/2026

Self-Portrait (June 2026)

“I wasn’t born into light, (I am beginning to think a majority of us aren’t). I was born into the generational shadows of my forebearers. I repeated every pattern and wondered why I was 25 and suicidal. Then I said enough is enough and sat the f**k down on a couch and started to address all my complexities. Since then it has been a surrender into myself and existence and now as I walk towards 30 I am a naked tree with deep shadows still a little attached to my narratives of old but with branches stretching outside of the frame. If I got here navigating darkness, I wonder where I will end up now I’ve reached a period of light. I am slowly learning that light does not erase what came before it, it only makes it visible in vivid detail. Even peace arrives with memory attached, and I am beginning to understand that becoming is not an escape from, but a deeper inhabiting of what has always been here underneath the noise of society.”

13/07/2026

SOMETHING HUMAN: an art exhibition by and myself at .

Opening 28th August at 5.30pm and runs 10am to 3pm daily until the 19th September.

"To create is to let soul speak"

(Thank you to everything and everyone for this beautiful opportunity)

11/07/2026

Seeing Kerryn Fields live at The Jam Factory felt less like a performance and more like being held inside a living field of presence. There was a stillness that felt full rather than empty, as if the room itself had learned a different way of breathing. Each note landed deeper than sound, reaching places that rarely open to language.

The evening began with Chanelle Davis, offering her own songs alongside a tender, instinctively understood cover of Kerryn’s work. Later she returned to the stage with Kerryn, adding piano and vocals that wove in seamlessly, expanding the music without ever overwhelming it.

Alongside them, Bill Basset on pedal steel brought a grounded country warmth, his lines slipping through each song with ease, stretching the emotional space around it and holding everything together with subtle depth.

At times the room felt formless, as if its edges had softened and the world beyond it no longer pressed so hard against the inside. Like sitting within an ancient circle of trees, awareness rising gently, as though something essential was being remembered rather than learned.

As a storyteller, it lingered as a reminder that real strength is rarely loud. It is rooted, layered, and shaped by depth that does not separate light from shadow but lets both exist in the same breath. I could sit here and try to write about Kerryn’s ethereal magic until I run out of words in our human language, but I will simply leave it at this: thank you for the music. A small piece of my soul was returned to me this evening. And, I have been flying with wings ever since.

08/07/2026

She dissolved into the silence between stars, where gravity gathered forgotten light and ancient galaxies folded slowly into themselves. The cosmos did not transform her; it stripped away the selves that kept her small. Fur became stardust, breath became solar wind, and her heartbeat found its place among the frequency of distant suns, as though it had always belonged there.

When she crossed the horizon of her own becoming, no crown descended from the heavens. Instead, clouds unfurled like wildflowers, and whole constellations bent gently toward her light. The kitten had not vanished but expanded into another way of being: a goddess born from celestial ash and the space between stars, carrying the infinite not as power, but as remembrance.

(got bored and lost sleep over this these last few weeks - discovered some new digital art techniques to play around with more. Broke my mind trying to sentence structure too. Oh, the pieces we give of ourselves for creation and alchemy)

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Villa Studios
Tauranga
3112

Telephone

+64221761992

Website

https://www.instagram.com/abmoncreative/

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