How Nick Prideaux Turned the Loss of His Family Home Into a Poetic Meditation on Grief and Memory
Welcome to this edition of [book spotlight]. Today, we uncover the layers of 'Grace Land' by Nick Prideaux (published by Whooden Studios). We'd love to read your comments below about these insights and ideas behind the artist's work.
A flood destroyed everything, so Nick Prideaux turned it into art.
The house he grew up in was wiped out in a once-in-a-generation storm. Even though he hadn’t lived there for years, the loss hit hard. It was the end of a place filled with childhood memories and family history. Instead of letting it fade away, he built something new: a photo book that blends fiction and truth, grief and beauty. Grace Land is his way of remembering what mattered most.
It’s a story about memory, loss, and finding meaning after disaster.
Prideaux didn’t try to rebuild the house. He created something else from it. He worked with dancers, actors, and a script, using photography, objects, and slow-motion video to explore what the flood took and what remained. The result is a cinematic, emotional project told in three chapters, shaped by careful planning and creative freedom. This interview breaks down how it all came together and what he learned from the process.
The Book
Grace Land is a photo book by Australian photographer Nick Prideaux, created in response to the loss of his childhood home during a major flood in Northern New South Wales in 2022. Shot during a residency in the South of France, the project blends photography, scripted scenes, and symbolic objects to explore memory, grief, and the bonds between siblings. Set in a historic monastery, the images follow three characters a brother and two sisters through a loosely constructed narrative shaped by personal experience and visual storytelling. Printed as a limited edition of 500 copies, Grace Land is Prideaux’s most structured and cinematic work to date, combining still photography with elements of film, dance, and performance. (Whooden Studios)
Martin: What inspired you to create Graceland, and how did the process of making this book help you cope with the loss of your childhood home?
Nick Prideaux: In the autumn of 2022 in Australia, the family house I grew up in was severely damaged by incredible floods in the northeastern part of Australia, a place called Byron Bay. This was really devastating because it was the house I grew up in, even though I hadn’t lived there for a long time I’ve been living abroad for about 15 or 16 years. It was a big loss for me and my family because it was such an important thread to our identity as a family.
At the time, I was thinking about what my next project was going to be, and I came to the conclusion that, amidst such a devastating story, there was an opportunity to create something beautiful out of it. Around this time, I pitched the Graceland idea to a residency in the south of France. It was their first year running the program in a place called Aix-en-Provence, and they were really interested in producing it and bringing it to life. The timing was perfect about six months later, I was in the south of France creating Graceland over a 10-day period with a small crew.
Making the book was, obviously, cathartic. Amidst such tragedy, there was something beautiful to be told. I think the book itself became a kind of love letter not only to the house but also to the story of where my sisters and I grew up. It reflects my relationships with my sisters, which, especially after the disaster, grew into a much stronger bond. Essentially, working through the trauma and the agony of the loss, the book became the perfect medium for me to explore all these feelings.
How did you decide on the location? The house was in Australia, right? But the pictures were shot in France. Did you choose something that resembled that feeling? How did you pick it?
I think with the location, I wanted to create a loosely connected world to the actual house. I did go back to the house once and took some photos there, and some of those photos are featured in the book.
The place where we shot in the south of France is an old monastery with an incredible history. It's a beautiful, restored old building with an amazing atmosphere. As soon as I arrived, I felt like I could find little nooks and corners that reminded me of home.
It was certainly a challenge. It wasn’t about directly recreating my house, but there were certain elements of the location that I could cherry-pick like a door, a particular spot of light, or a little corner. All those small details within the space evoked memories of home.
You've described the book as a meditation on memory, grief, and siblinghood. How did you go about translating those intimate emotions into visual form?
It was a very difficult task because I had to really dig deep to figure out how I wanted to visually represent these feelings. The key was finding little elements that strongly represented them. In the book, there are three characters a brother and two sisters. For them, I chose a couple of small objects to tie in and represent these themes.
The brother, who represents me, often has a key attached to him. I felt this was symbolic of being part of the story while also opening the story up for my family. There’s also the orange, which features prominently and is symbolic of death an old trope from cinema. We used a lot of cloth and rope as well to create a sense of constriction and heaviness. This weight was another key theme constriction, certainly, but also this sense of heaviness.
There were a couple of objects like that which we consistently used to represent these themes. As for the cast, they were incredible. We had a full script a short screenplay, really and we storyboarded everything. We had an amazing production designer who helped with materials and set design. Having these elements and then speaking with each cast member, saying, "You’re one sister, you’re the other sister, you’re the brother this is how you feel," really helped us connect things.
We also had the luxury of time. Even though we had a pretty heavy schedule and were constantly moving around the space, there was a fluidity to it that really helped. Often, I’d go in with a set idea of what image I wanted to capture, and then something else would be born out of it.
How did it turn out in comparison to what you planned?
That's a really good question. I think what I had to do very quickly was let go of any preconceived concept of what I wanted to make. I came at it with really strong images in mind, but as soon as I got into the space, I had to let go of this rigid, pre-constructed idea of how it was going to be. Instead, I worked with what I had in front of me.
It’s funny because even looking at the book now, I see reference images I used, and it's very different for sure. But what happened was, I started to get into a bit of a flow state. It became much easier to shoot on the fly because I can be quite specific about shooting at certain times of day, in very particular ways. I had to be more flexible in that respect, and I think that shows in the work.
Was the final work born more in the edit, or did you more or less shoot everything you wanted and then just put it together? Did you have like 2,000 shots or 200 shots or 50 shots, and then you just sequenced it as you wanted?
I had written a small kind of screenplay, and we had more or less storyboarded everything. A part of the project was that we actually shot videos alongside the photos. We had videos, stills, and the cast consisted of dancers. We incorporated live performances and used music with dance as well. So, there were a lot of elements involved. I had a rough idea of the arc like, okay, we start here and end there.
But certainly, within the edit, some ideas that I thought would be standout moments weren’t as strong as I had imagined. I’d think, "Okay, maybe we don’t need this." Certain things started to stand out more during the editing process. I began to find more clarity in the edit. You start to trim things down, and it becomes clearer and more straightforward.
The images that I included in the book are the ones that really say something and tie everything together. So yes, there was definitely a process in the editing phase.
How did you come to this idea? Because it's quite unique to create something in the realm of photography that stems from memory or personal experience and translate it into, especially into a photography book. But you also mentioned creating not just movie stills but actual videos. Where did this originally come from?
Yes. Honestly, this was one of the first residencies I had done. When the opportunity arose, I thought, "OK, what have I been working on? What have I been circling around for a long time?" I have a background in film my major at university was film, specifically screenwriting. That's always been in the back of my mind, the idea of working with moving images again. I realized, "This is the project to do it." So, why not combine still photography with moving images? Also, I’ve always been fascinated by dance. My sister is a dancer, and that's something that has really influenced me.
Maybe a little bit before that I can imagine you lying in bed, thinking, "My house was just flooded. Maybe I should create a photography book," you know what I mean?
Right, sorry. Let me answer more directly. Honestly, when it happened, I was really thinking rewinding a little bit I hope this answers your question directly.
My body of work, my profile before this, has always been somewhat diaristic. I don’t particularly like using that word, but it fits. It’s like a visual diary. I’m constantly shooting there are themes, elements, things I capture regularly. I'd been circling around the idea of wanting to create a fully fledged project where I could focus on one thing, shooting it with a complete idea and concept in mind.
When the flood happened, I thought, "Wow, what an incredible opportunity to create something from this." I don’t think there was a specific moment where I was lying in bed having that thought, but I kept coming back to it: "There’s a story here," you know?
Probably the defining moment was when I went back to Australia and saw the house or what remained of it. I had my camera with me and started taking photos: my old childhood bedroom, destroyed; my parents’ room, in ruins. That’s when I thought, "What if I could take this concept of the house and thread a story through it?"
At the time, I imagined having three dancers in that space it would’ve been incredible. I even considered making a music video there. That’s when it really hit me: there’s a story here that I can recreate, very loosely, and tell. So, if I had to pinpoint a moment, it was seeing the house for the first time and feeling that there was something I wanted to say, a story to be told through my images.
Can you take me through your thought process on how you bring an idea to life? When you decide to rent a place and create a script, is there an original idea or feeling you want the viewer to experience from the start? Is it based on what you felt, or what you’d like the audience to feel? Was there a specific goal or ending you had in mind?
Yes.
I'm always cautious about projecting how I want the viewer to feel. I believe my role as an artist is to create the work, and beyond that, it’s up to those who engage with it. Their feelings are entirely personal. If I had any end goal, it would be just that.
I wanted the story to be told and to exist. When I started, I thought, "How am I going to do this? How will I create this?" In the end, having a tangible object that tells this story was the goal. Holding the book for the first time a few weeks ago, I felt incredibly proud. It’s the result of all the effort, time, and passion poured into it.
As for how I want people to feel, again, it’s a personal story, but it touches on universal themes climate change, siblinghood, loss, grief, and displacement. These are experiences not just for me and my family, but for many others. I approached it with the belief that there’s a beautiful story to be told, and I wanted to create something meaningful and beautiful from such a tragedy.
In our previous conversation, you spoke about finding beauty in the mundane. Did Graceland push you to see things differently, given its emotional weight and the scale of the climate disaster?
Yes.
There was a phrase that kept going around in my head when I was shooting it "beautiful violence." I wanted to stay connected to my own perspective, to the way I see things, but I also wanted to introduce elements that I might not typically use.
In some of the images, there are elements of constriction a knife stabbed into an orange, for example. My images are often light, airy, and soft, but I wanted to create a contrast, a juxtaposition between my usual style and something darker. This isn’t something usually attributed to my body of work.
What was most exciting about this project was the opportunity to experiment with themes and elements I hadn’t explored before. Having the space, the time, the performers, and the story allowed me to delve into areas that I wouldn’t have previously featured directly in my work.
So you come to the scene with an idea and then let it unfold, or do you start with something more staged? Like with the orange did you put it there to symbolize something specific? Is it the same with the crew, the actors, or the people you photograph? Is there input from their side that helps push the project in a certain direction?
Yes.
Absolutely. I think that touches on what I mentioned before the fluidity of working with the cast. Often, I’d come into a scene with a clear idea: "This is what we're going to shoot, this is the concept." We’d play with that idea, but gradually, like unraveling a thread, we’d discover something new.
I remember shooting with one of the performers when another actress just walked outside. She started picking leaves from the ground. We had this bandage we’d been experimenting with, but it wasn’t quite working. Then she began wrapping it around her head, creating this little helmet with the leaves. I thought, "Okay, come over here, let’s start shooting that." It evolved into a moment we hadn’t planned.
It’s always a dialogue. I directed, of course, and I’d come in with the core idea, but being around other creatives who are all amazing they’d suggest, "Why don’t we try this?" I’d say, "Great, let’s shoot it." That was the most incredible part: feeding off each other's energy. You might enter through one door and leave through another, discovering something unexpected along the way.
Do you feel like the final body of work has something similar to movies, like the three-part act the setup, the middle, and the end?
Yes, absolutely. That's the way I saw it, and that's also the way I edited it. When we were designing the book, we literally structured it into three chapters. That's the way I wrote it as well. We divided it into three chapters, which made the editing process easier because I knew where we started and where we were going to finish.
In between, it was about crystallising and ensuring that every image included told part of that story and guided the viewer to that endpoint. It was very much done in a three-act structure. It's interesting because I think that's my background in film coming through. It's funny thinking about creating a book in this way because when I look at a photo book, I don't typically think of it as having chapters. You usually embark on a story or an adventure with it. But this one was quite classically structured in that way.
Okay, now that you’ve gone through everything from pre-planning, planning the execution, sequencing, putting the book together, and printing it, and now you’re distributing it what advice would you give yourself back when you decided to start? What would you maybe do differently?
I think the biggest thing I’ve had to learn is patience. Patience is huge. It’s interesting because we shot this in September and October of 2022, and now we’re almost halfway through 2025. That feels like a long time to me. But when I’ve spoken to other photographers, printers, and artists, they’ve said that in the grand scheme of things, a body of work or a project can take years.
Certainly, one thing I had to learn was patience. After the project was done, we spent a long time pitching it and looking for funding, so it was a lengthy process.
As for something I’d do differently this was produced with the production company I worked with during the residency, which has been incredible. They’re called Wooden Labs and Wooden Studios. We really only decided at the end of last year that the best way to do this was to self-publish. Perhaps it would’ve been better if we’d reached that decision a bit earlier. I was really adamant because I had a list of publishers I really wanted to approach.
It was tough a very long process with lots of conversations where people said, "We love this work, we could potentially print it," but they had a backlog of projects. It took a long time.
The joy of self-publishing was that I had full creative control over it. At the end of the day, the pride I felt from having done it with a small group of people, doing it ourselves, was really rewarding.
Is there something - ideas or concepts you carry over to your future projects? It can be difficult to advise someone to "just be more patient" because that's a bit broad. Is there something specific you do when you want to conceptualise an idea into art?
By the time I start shooting a project, I've done a lot of research. I’ve written scripts, conducted six to eight months of image research, and collected a bank of thousands of images that I reference or find inspiring. This preparation allows me to approach the project fully ready.
When I say the process is fluid and adaptable, it’s because of all the groundwork I've done. I don’t just pick up a camera and think, "Alright, I’ll just stand over there." Pre-planning is critical. I spend a lot of time ensuring that, when it comes to the actual act of shooting, everything is already in place mentally. I know exactly how to tell the story and which images I want to capture.
I have books filled with notes things I’ve written down, ideas I’ve collected. This wealth of information from my research helps me execute the project effectively. So yes, thorough preparation and research have definitely benefited me.
Does anything specific inspire you? Do you watch YouTube, open Instagram, read books, or follow favourite artists whose work you take notes on? Do you sit down and prepare formally, or do you jot down ideas during your day-to-day activities? How does it work for you?
Obviously, like everyone, I check Instagram to see who's shooting what and the kind of images they're creating. But lately, I’ve been turning more towards photo books as well. Photo books have always been a significant part of my life. I’ve moved around a lot, so I’ve had to build and rebuild my photo library, but sitting down with a photo book is always a wonderful experience.
I also find inspiration in other ways. One thing I created was a playlist of music around 100 songs and I’d sit down, listen, and write little scenes and thoughts. That was incredibly helpful. I found a lot of clarity through a few key pieces of music that helped me visualise what I wanted to express with my images. That was a huge influence.
Did you play music on set?
We did, yes. I had one key track that encapsulated the mood I wanted to create. During some scenes especially the longer takes we’d play that music in the background. It was amazing because it set the atmosphere perfectly.
I vividly remember the first moment when the music was playing, the dancers were in front of me, everything was set. I gave them a few notes on what to do in the scene, and it all came together right there. That was a real moment of, "Okay, we’re making it."
And you also mentioned you made a video from that project. Did you film it yourself?
No, we did something remarkable. I was obviously handling the stills, and we had a cinematographer operating the camera. One of the producers assisted me as well because while I focused on stills, I was also directing two cameras simultaneously.
So you were like the director of photography for the movie, something like that? Does the movie complement the images, or is it more of a continuation?
Yes, exactly. The movie is still in the production stage. We're deciding what we want to do with it. It will be a short film, but we also want to incorporate elements of it into a potential exhibition.
Short film as in five minutes, 15 minutes, or half an hour?
No, it will be quite short about two to three minutes. We had access to a Phantom camera, which was incredible. We shot some wonderful slow-motion footage, and that was an amazing experience. The final result will be a short film, and hopefully, we can use some of its elements in an exhibition.
Perfect, looking forward to it.
Yes, I’m very excited to share it. The stills and the book were always the priority. The video is incredible, but we decided to hold onto it for a while. We’re very much hoping to release it later in the year.
To discover more about this intriguing body of work and how you can acquire your own copy, you can find and purchase the book here. (Whooden Studios)
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