In 2016, a chance encounter with Lake Hindmarsh in the Wimmera region of western Victoria, turned into a four-day photography project. Until then, the largest freshwater lake in the state had been – for me at least – a mere blue shape on the map. 

Years of drought had taken their toll on the lake, but in early 2011, it had experienced a remarkable revival through regional flooding. Fast forward to Easter 2016, with our kayak on a car’s roof and an adventurous spirit, we set forth in the hopes of capturing the essence of the journey through Wimmera. 

Our journey to Lake Hindmarsh was long. After a day full of driving, we finally headed towards the location of the lake. Prepared for the usual Easter crowds in camping locations, we drove without seeing a single car, and something didn’t feel right. The thought soon gave way to a realisation: we were driving across the dried-out lakebed itself. 

As I discovered, this lake can turn from an aquatic paradise to an arid landscape in the blink of an eye, and during these dry periods, it remains a secluded and solitary haven.

At night this place was magical, with the long-dead trees bathing in the wild glow of firelight and torch beams. The full moon, a silent collaborator in my process, turned the landscape into a living canvas that I couldn’t turn away from. Under the stars, amidst the stillness, I returned to my childhood days on our family farm in Poland, where I had felt a similar connection to the land.

At Lake Hindmarsh, the boundary between land and water is as elusive as the passage of time itself. The beauty of nature is vivid and fleeting, a reminder of our own transience.