These images come from a photovoice study about community, care, and connection Community members, service providers, and health practitioners were invited to photograph what helps people feel connected to their communities and what gets in the way Each picture is a small witness Together they map how community exists in everyday places
Photovoice is a research method that hands the camera to participants so they can show, rather than simply tell, their experience. The photographs were discussed in interviews. Researchers then analysed these stories to identify common themes across many voices
Alongside each photograph you will find a short poem or piece of prose written by researcher and writer Dr Simon-Peter Telford These writings are a type of research called “creative analytical practice”. After the interviews were thematically analysed, the writing was created to communicate a collective story. Creative writing allows research findings to be felt as well as understood, translating research evidence into human experience
This exhibition is a part of a social prescribing project, which explores how health and wellbeing are shaped not only by medical care but by connection: groups, creativity, shared spaces, and relationships. The photographs show the conditions that make these connections possible, and the barriers that need to be overcome – collectively.
You are invited to enjoy slowly; feel, don’t just think Read the words beside the images Notice which scenes feel familiar Reflect on your own experience
The research asks a simple question with a complicated answer: What helps a person feel part of a community? Every image here is part of that answer.
locked gates rust faster than the children grow some slides of concrete others are of gold
playgrounds built from memories stand the test of time wrapped in softly spoken words connected by threads like gossamer
in a great nest of seesaws and swings we sit and know of the day when they too will dive through clouds and build flocks of their own
what they see is a story unravelling our hands on the pen draw lines marking out the boundaries of life like great trenches in the earth
will they lead us across this map will they take us under their wings will they fly if they see us flying who will show them the way
?
inheritance
from blade to blade a tickling of flame burning and curling that which cannot move out of its path laying waste to our best intentions impulsive unknowing an erratic smouldering that resists contemplation but instead, is driven on by the chaos the uncontrollable halting the hopes and dreams of living things whipped up in a twirling spinning dance the ruffles of bright orange reaching out and consuming
n t a n g l e
in an endless hunger leaving behind scorched and blackened soil and promises of potential of a possible springing green shoot of life being made anew through salted rain and gritted teeth waiting for the next ember to form and start fresh an unending convulsion that shakes free the repetition of days bathing in smoke and clouding the eyes that strain to see the coming of a new dawn
equilibrium
Many hands make light work, but gentle hands are needed to build a house of cards Stable breath. Together we pick the right piece, feel its weight and place it with a soft touch.
Our eyes strain as we resist the urge to blink We swallow exhaustion, exhale intent The stories that each card tells swim amongst the deck, holding years that are pressed down into paper like a rose pressed into a book Some cards are bent and others are stamped with the ticking of a clock
Is fragility a failure, or is it a reality that shows the beauty of a stained-glass window? Rebuilding becomes a ritual. Trust becomes the beams that hold us in their precarity because we know that steel is too harsh What cards will you show today? What remains in your hand?
undulation
we take a moment hear the sea roll in smell the salt crystalise in the air and feel the sun’s golden touch on our skin
the blue horizon is an endless streak of paint which blends into the sky overhead it swallows our entire being a dazzling refraction in the shining water in that moment we are light we are joined just like the countless grains of sand so too have countless eyes watched
the sun rise and set over the waves countless lives building together making castles in the sand having the seaweed wrap around our ankles as we run in shallows together
the shore reminds us all that we are like the fish that swim in schools all in this together
side by side
how susceptible are the laws of physics? how can the whole world shrink down to these four walls? like ghosts drifting through an endless maze our footsteps make silent sounds of pain
whether it be a stumbling shuffle to the front door or the odyssey of a thousand steps through thorns to find a table and chair in some café to meet with a hand that holds on tight
pang
clasping fingers slick with tears are we not deserving of life’s little treasures? we hold on together and hold out for hope that like lighthouses on some misty shore
we may turn our eyes to the horizon on our search to land on warmer sands to feel the sun on our glistening skin and find a place where we belong
rhizome
a flower blooming is a beautiful thing a little miracle of petals and colour how quickly these miracles can fade these splashes of splendour rise and fall
and how little do we see under the soil the roots and tendrils working hard like an industrial machine stretching out and absorbing it is a hidden world opaque in its mysteries and to expose the roots brings a tumbling vulnerability
who, then, are the gardeners that can peer into the incubating soil? how do they tend to these fragile heartstrings?
to hold a seed in one’s hand to feel the joys and aches to wrangle the ropes of an ecosystem with a caring and gentle touch with roots, nothing is wasted every limb has a purpose and if the flower does not bloom there is always next spring
Movement is good for the body and the mind but sometimes I feel so exhausted I’ve worn deep grooves into my shoes and although I know I can buy another pair, I also know that those too will crumble
Forty-eight patients today, and tomorrow is booked out too
My biggest fear is getting to that point, as happens so many times, when I look into my patient’s eyes, and I don’t know how to help them. A throat infection is easy, another broken toe
“I feel like I have no one and I just feel so alone…”
What can I do to change that?
“I have a specialist appointment, but the taxi didn’t come last time…” How can I help?
“My wife died three weeks ago, and I don’t know how to pay the bills…” I am so sorry
soul
It hurts to see them hurting, and it hurts when I cannot help. My job is to help, and not only that, I want to help, but I just don’t know how I can So, I take my lunch break off, and I drive that patient home I spend my weekend looking into some referral options.
I look down at my shoes, and my sole is wearing thin
Sometimes I feel alone. Sometimes I don’t feel good enough. I wonder if I belong
But then sometimes it all just works I feel like I’m helping where I can When you come in again, you’ll see me smiling and we will work together to help because that’s what I’m here for, that’s who I am.
community is a plate of food shared between those we love community stretches out into the streets crosses over fences and walks down sidewalks
floating on the smells of oil, garlic, fresh bread ringing through the creaking of corks or the flowing streams of clear water poured into many glasses and raised to mouths that speak words of generosity
community is a shared experience of a common language nurturing and nourishing
What is in a name, a country, a nation? I carry many stories within me, many journeys across many seas
I find myself stretched across identities, in a gliding dance over and under and through in a dizzying and breathtaking spin that lifts me higher into the air I am held by solid arms, like being passed over a crowd I feel the warmth and security of each palm as it presses against me and passes me to the next.
It is only I that can know the moves that are to come Sometimes they are like a song that played in a summer now long gone, a fading record that sings out from the back patio and I strain my ears to pick the notes Other times it is a roaring wave of thumping bass that beats through my day and through my mind.
kindred
My feet make the movements I have performed a thousand times, and I am joined by others who move at their own rhythms. Together we bend and move, sharing one breath and one common energy that flows up from the boards and into our legs and hearts Though I may not know their dance, I smile at their elegance Though they may not know mine, they applaud as I leap
And as I leap so too do my thoughts, settling amongst those who have not been given the chance to join in our performance, those who have not shared their spirit, those who have not been allowed and my feet faulter as I feel the sorrow of not feeling their songs, not breathing one breath.
And so, I move along the aisles and up through the doors and out into the streets with their lamps glowing in fuzzy softness and I continue my dance on the sidewalk, across the grass and into a searching that will take me to someone who is waiting to spin and collide and dip and leap with me
wisdom
i love them so much each wrinkle that etches its way through their skin every memory that is held in every grey hair on their head all the ways in which they have loved me over all these years i can never thank them enough for all they have done even in those twilights years they still press on they water their gardens that feed our souls and we turn on the tap because their hands shake just as they have shaken hands with countless others and laughed and cried together so that we could learn to laugh and cry to share a cup of tea to have them hold us in their wisdom so, we mustn’t forget that they are still here with us because one day they will no longer bring a smile to our lips or a tear to our eye just as we too will see the lines of laughter get deeper in our skin and our hair will grey and disappear we too will water the garden for those who will take us there
ABOUT THE RESEARCH PROJECT
Across Australia, many people experience loneliness, social isolation, and difficulty navigating the supports and activities available in their communities At the same time, healthcare providers, local governments, community organisations are working to strengthen health, social connection and wellbeing – but these efforts are often fragmented or hard for people in the community to access. Social prescribing is an approach that responds to this challenge by connecting people from healthcare to non-clinical supports, focusing on strengthening connections between people, services, and community resources to support wellbeing
At Flinders, researchers from the Centre for Social Impact and the Caring Futures Institute are leading an Australian Research Council funded Linkage project (LP240100242) that brings together state and local government, healthcare, social and community partners to co-design and evaluate a locally embedded social prescribing model for Southern Adelaide.
Coming Together: A Social Prescribing Photovoice Exhibition showcases key findings on what helps and hinders community connection and access to community support
Research Team:
Prof Svetlana Bogomolova, Dr Candice Oster, Dr Ashleigh Powell, Dr Simon-Peter Telford, Chrissie Roberts, Dr Ying Xu, and Dr Sahar Faghidno
