Lauren Murphy, photographer

The Our New Home project is very deep to my heart, and feels like some of the most meaningful photography I’ve undertaken.

When I was presented with the opportunity to team with Latrobe Community Health Service on this project, I was overjoyed and knew it would be an undertaking I would be grateful for. At the time I was unsure what the outcomes would be, but the worth lay in providing an opportunity for these women to share their stories and have their voices respectfully heard.

Before I dedicated myself full time to photography, I was a social worker for six years. I worked in the settlement field, primarily with newly-arrived refugees. My years in this role educated me about the impact of torture and other traumatic events, and the complexities in rebuilding shattered lives. It filled me with lessons in resilience and gratitude, and led to the formation of lasting friendships. The connections and conversations I had in my various roles shaped me as a person and continue to influence my life in positive ways.

My fascination with images started at a young age. My grandparents lost everything in the Ash Wednesday bushfire. It was such a huge loss, and growing up without access to those family stories made me realise how important photography is in engaging with our history. Luckily, I was able to engage with my mother’s history visually; she migrated from Scotland with her family when she was 12 years old and had a few photographs of her life to share with us.

The merging of these experiences developed a deep responsibility in myself to document our stories so we have a visual anchor.

Many of the refugees I worked with as a social worker had no possessions – not a single photograph of their life before arriving in Australia. As a photographer, I have the privilege of supporting new beginnings. When you show someone their first family photo, well that is when I’ve truly felt the power a single image can play in someone's story.

I feel a huge responsibility with this project. It takes great courage to share your story, especially when there are chances it may be met with racism. When we met with each participant, I was conscious of the brief time I had to capture a glimpse of their lives. I hold a lot of power as a photographer, and all of these women trusted me. My hope is that when they view their portrait, they can see the admiration, strength and kindness that I see in them.

To be heard. To be valued. To be welcomed. That is what I hope this exhibition means for people. I want people to value diversity; to see it as a strength rather than something to fear.

We don’t grow without pausing to reflect, on ourselves and those around us.

Our New Home is a chance to do exactly that.

Emma Watson, writer

I’ve always been curious about other people’s stories.

What aspects of their life – where they’ve come from, what they’ve experienced and who they’ve met – do they believe define them in a meaningful way?

I have tended to think of my own story as a tad ordinary, although I do appreciate when people ask.

Both sets of my grandparents migrated to Australia from England. Both my parents were born in Australia. Myself and my two older siblings were born in the Latrobe Valley, southeast of Melbourne. Most of my family is in Gippsland, apart from a few relatives who dared make the trip interstate or overseas.

None of that is particularly interesting. So I guess it’s pretty easy to fall into the trap of thinking, oh … you don’t really want to know about me, do you?

My parents are avid travellers.

I was three when they took me on my first overseas holiday. I travelled with them through Asia, Europe and Pacific Islands until I was 18. They funded my solo trip to Singapore for an amateur swimming camp, to China for an English-teaching school expedition, and to Indonesia where I lived for seven weeks while completing university.

When I look at my childhood through that lens, I can see I didn’t have an ordinary upbringing after all. It has shaped who I am and fed my curiosity of people and places.

No surprises then, that I chose a career in professional story-telling. I am a former journalist who now works in marketing and communications with Latrobe Community Health Service.

A colleague remarked one day how powerful a project like Humans of New York could be in Gippsland. I agreed. What better way to capture the diversity of our region, than through photography and the written word? How fortunate am I to work for an organisation that recognises diversity and inclusivity are among the building blocks of strong communities?

I have lived and worked in Gippsland for most of my life. I love this region – the land itself is as diverse as the people who live here. Through my work, I have met so many amazing people, many of whom are still finding their way in this beautiful place. Many are migrants and refugees. All feel grateful to call Gippsland home.

The Our New Home exhibition is a celebration of Gippsland in as much as it’s a celebration of the migrant and refugee women who share their stories. Their experiences may shock you. Their resilience may inspire you. Their perspective may change your outlook and remind you of all you have to be grateful for.

I am grateful to each and every woman who trusted me with the intricate details of their lives, even though this was akin to reliving past trauma.

I am grateful to my employer, Latrobe Community Health Service, for providing the platform for these women to show their community who they are, and why they call Gippsland home.

I will forever be grateful to my parents for showing me so much of the world. My parents raised me to value the beauty in diversity. They also raised me to notice the beauty of home.

My hope is, through Our New Home, both viewer and participant can revel in our differences and in the experiences that shape us. Whatever you learn from this exhibition, I hope you also remember this: we all have something to share, to contribute. It takes just one person to ask.