Photographer and stylist Kara Rosenlund spent a year traversing Australia, towing her trusty vintage caravan to homes to photograph based on word-of-mouth recommendations.
The result is Shelter, an exquisite coffee table keepsake with a whole heap of heart.
Shelter wasn’t the book Rosenlund was supposed to write. She had a contract to create another book altogether about vintage caravans (she was into these caravans long before they were cool). But a wrong turn in rural Australia put paid to that: Rosenlund spotted a dilapidated house and was curious about its history, its residents, and how it came to be in the rundown state it was.
By the time she’d found her way home, she was convinced the book she needed to produce was about how Australians live. And she managed to convince her publisher of that too.
I’m generalising, but I think that those of us addicted to Pinterest (I’ll wholly admit I’m included in that group) tend to pin images of houses and apartments from other regions in the world. My own feed is full of New York, Swedish, and other all-white, architecturally designed spaces styled to within an inch of their lives.
Shelter departs from this aesthetic, showcasing real, lived-in homes and their broader, contextualising landscapes. They’re not homes that would necessarily appear in house and garden magazines, but I mean this as a compliment. They’re the homes we haven’t known about and for which images aren’t readily available to pin.
They also depart from the stereotypical ‘outback’ Australian imagery we’re used to seeing. For too long, it’s felt as though our landscape and our lifestyles had to occupy a truly urban or quintessentially outback identity.
Nor did Rosenlund, despite her background, ever style the spaces. She captured them as they were and the book is better for it. Unlike those Pinterest images I tend to pin, which are comparatively sterile or at least impossible to actually live in lest you muck up the aesthetics straight up, you get an unmediated sense of how people live.
As someone who rather fancies becoming a hermit (Seriously, I said that was what I wanted to be when I grew up as early as Year 2. Suffice to say, it didn’t wash well with the teacher I told and I sensed quickly it wasn’t an appropriate thing to say), this book speaks to me.
The bespoke homes, be they made from an old tram or shipping containers or simply an old cottage built from gathered materials, and surrounded by nature, seem absolutely heavenly. Some are lived in full time, while others provide humble getaways. Still others seemed like short-term shelters that have come to be long-term homes.
As a photographer and stylist, Rosenlund has an eye for creating and capturing composition and detail that is almost unrivalled. Her images are textured, detail-rich artworks in and of themselves. The book is wholly hers too. She put together the images and words for it, with the text containing brief tales of how she found the building’s owners.
To encounter Rosenlund (as I did when I attended one of her book launches recently) is to realise how warm she is. She writes in the introduction that she wasn’t sure how she was going to convince people to let her inside their homes. I’d argue that was never going to be the issue—I doubt anyone ever says no to her—and that finding the properties was more likely the challenge. Australia is, after all, a vast continent and the kinds of homes she was keen to photograph were not clustered together in easily accessible urban locations.
That’s evidenced in the continuing theme in the book that many of the homeowners who ended up in the book rarely go into town, have the internet, or check email. Regardless, through persistence and the occasional old-fashioned asking at the local pub, Rosenlund managed to track these people down.
From there, she often found herself often staying overnight and spending time with the homeowners—a far more personal and in-depth approach than most styling and book production practices entail. She writes in the introduction that she would come away from the experience ‘happy, and topped up with human spirit’.
That’s kind of how I feel encountering Shelter. It’s a tribute to lives lived deeply and a brief peek into, and inspiration for, those of us who’ve been seeking out inspiration for new and fulfilling ways to live.