Steve Parish: 50 Years Photographing Australia by Steve Parish Publishing

STEVE PARISH 50 YEARS PHOTOGRAPHING AUSTRALIA

CONTENTS Front cover: A large lizard that roams much of Australia seemed to be the perfect choice to represent my life’s work. Swaggering across their home ranges, goannas (or monitor lizards as they are correctly termed) project a wonderful sense of belonging. I always get excited when I encounter these wonderful creatures in the wild.

INTRODUCTION

MY JOURNEY – how it all began

1959 MARINE FISH – in pursuit of a dream

1967 MARINE INVERTEBRATES – unravelling mysteries

Pages 2 & 3: I had photographed the towering sandstone parapets in Limmen National Park, Northern Territory, from the air before, but this was the first time I had seen them from the ground. This photograph was taken at dawn in heavy mist, which acted as a reflector, illuminating the landscape’s deep shadows. I have been wandering around Australia for many years, and can say that revisiting a familiar place holds as much excitement as visiting a new one.

1975 POSSUMS – moving to dry land

1975 WOODLANDS & FORESTS – so much to learn

1976 BIRDS – lessons to last a lifetime

137

1981 LANDSCAPES – a long and emotional journey

187

1982 REPTILES & FROGS – getting ”down and dirty”

209

1983 ROOS & WALLABIES – an enthralling mob

225

1989 URBANSCAPES – bringing wilderness to town

241

1994 WILDFLOWERS – that healing feeling

259

2000 LAND & SEA MAMMALS – a pocketful of stories

279

2006 FLYING MAMMALS – making new friends

289

2008 SPIDERS & INSECTS – sheer flexibility

299

CONSERVATION – I am just one person

300

PHOTOGRAPHY – past and present

301

STEVE PARISH PUBLISHING – a short history

302

FIFTY YEARS – an acknowledgement

Pages 4 & 5: The faces of a young common ringtail possum and a grey-headed flying-fox. Our mammals are unique in the world and they need our help to survive the environmental changes affecting their delicate habitats. Pages 6 & 7: My relationship with the floodplains of Kakadu National Park goes back to the late seventies and this vast region has held a special place in my heart since then. Page 8: Australia’s only stork, the jabiru (now called the black-necked stork, a most unromantic name) has long been a favourite bird of mine. Standing over 1.5 m, they certainly have presence, especially when the males and females are performing a courting dance. Opposite & above: The mottlecah, a eucalypt found only in South-West Western Australia, is one of the flowering plants I cherish most; shimmering reflections in a rock pool.

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INTRODUCTION Above: In 1983, at the height of the struggle to stop the damming of the Franklin River in south-west Tasmania, I had just begun a year-long field trip gathering images for the book Australia’s Wilderness Experience. The month I spent with the “greenies” in Strahan and at base camp on the Gordon River had a major effect on me and has influenced me throughout my career as a publisher. I wanted to inspire the world to speak out in support of the environment. There, with my own eyes, I saw how many voices speaking as one could work. The Franklin River runs free to this day. Opposite: Australia’s top mammalian predator, the dingo. The only purebred strain of this animal is said to exist on Fraser Island, Queensland. The needs of visitors, residents and dingoes are often in conflict on this WorldHeritage-listed island — the largest sand island in the world — presenting a challenge for wildlife management and conservation, and posing a real threat to the genetic viability of this species.

As a naturalist, photographer, publisher and promoter of Australia and its natural history, I have immersed myself in the natural world for the past five decades. Fish, invertebrates, possums, waterbirds, bush birds, plants, habitats, frogs, reptiles, mammals and, most recently, insects, have all cast a spell on me at some time. As each new fascination developed, I gathered the photographic collections and knowledge required to use the images in publications for toddlers, preschool children, primary school kids, and adults. However, on my journey, at both a business and personal level, I wrestled with what my contribution should be to the protection of the plants, animals and habitats I was photographing. After all, I knew well that human help was required to conserve these places and their wild inhabitants. Early in my career, while employed as a nature photographer, I saw how a government agency, the then Queensland National Parks and Wildlife Service (QNPWS), dealt with politics and public disapproval when unpopular decisions were made. At the same time, these organisations had, and still have, the difficult task of producing the environmental science that enabled wise management of the flora, fauna and landscapes under their care. This experience, combined with later years of wandering Australia, helped me develop the company objectives Steve Parish Publishing upholds today. I realised that, unless I was to become a politician or a researcher, my only real contribution could be to build a publishing enterprise, based on sound commercial principles, that would ignite in others a passion for the natural world. I chose to target children of all ages. I soon found that I was able to create, produce and sell products that celebrated nature and inspired a personal connection with its beauty and fragility. I knew that my young audience, having made a connection, would grow up believing in the magic of nature. When environmental issues arose, these children, now adults, would lend their voices to make the collective environmental consciousness stronger. This is my drive and has been my reason for being for the last half a century.

This book presents many of the natural adventures I have dived headlong into over the years. I have sequenced my flirtations and fascinations into the order in which they occurred over my life. The chapter years do not indicate the year I began photographing certain species or events, rather the period in my career when the fascinations truly grabbed my attention and I consciously began investing my time and resources into developing catalogues of images on those topics. Over time, the transitions between each area have intrigued me the most. Usually, an event or a series of events plants the seed, the seed grows into what I can only describe as an obsession, which, in turn, branches into other related areas of the natural world. While wanting the images to speak for themselves, I wrote the text to explain my observations, musings over natural history, photographic techniques and the emotions I associate with each image. The overlap of these topics — where nature meets art and emotion — has given me the means with which to interpret nature for myself. I have always been a person who prefers solitude, but in creating this book I realised I have been heavily influenced by several rewarding encounters with others. In most cases, these have been very brief — so brief that some of the folk who inspired me may be surprised at having played any role at all! Nonetheless, if I have learnt anything, it is that even the smallest gesture of kindness can have a monumental effect on another human being’s life. Looking back over five decades of observing nature and “telling stories” about it, I find it amazing that my fulfilling journey began with just a little silver fish and a chance relationship with a man who reached out to me and steered me towards a lifetime of celebrating nature. Through this book I wanted to return that act of generosity — to reach out to others and, in doing so, make a connection and pass on a voice with which to celebrate and conserve our most precious wonders. Steve Parish

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MY JOURNEY – how it all began Above: At 22 years of age I returned to Adelaide from Jervis Bay to show off my new underwater housings to Igo. He was still using the same camera and housing I had used for my first picture six years prior! Opposite: In 1961 pioneer photographer Igo Oak introduced me, as a shy sixteenyear-old boy, to the wonders of underwater photography. His gentle guidance directed me away from spearing fish and towards photographing them. This photograph was taken just before I made my first in-focus colour underwater photograph. Search as we may, Igo and I have never managed to find a copy of my first image, which is still clear in my mind. Pages 16 & 17: Surface reflections create a natural abstract as a bottlenose dolphin speeds past.

When I was nine years old, my father gave me a face mask, snorkel and fins for Christmas. By the time I was twelve, I was swimming way offshore, spearing fish and dragging them back behind me attached to a plastic float. Of course, it did not take long for the bronze whaler sharks in South Australia’s gulf waters to pick up the scent! I frequently had to defend my catch. At the time, I did not consider sharks very dangerous and shark attacks were rarely reported in the media. However, before long a personal encounter with a 4-m white shark — which munched up my entire catch and the large plastic float — caused me to review the idea of spearfishing offshore. In the same area where my fish were seized, a succession of attacks on spearfishers occurred, some fatal, which reinforced my decision. Dangerous sharks or not, I was besotted with the underwater world and excited by the adventures it offered. When underwater images began featuring in National Geographic magazine, I plastered my bedroom wall with tear-outs. These wall decorations were a constant reminder of my connection with sealife and, I am convinced, motivated me (or brainwashed me, if you like) into being passionate about natural history publishing. On my fourteenth birthday, my father made good with another gift

— the first commercially available underwater camera. I was overjoyed, although the camera was little more than a toy. It performed very poorly, and soon flooded! Thankfully, before long another life-altering event occurred, one that would spin me in a new direction. During a trip to Kangaroo Island with the South Australian Museum, I dived as a fish collector with pioneer underwater photographer Igo Oak. On one dive, he handed me his camera and gestured for me to take a photograph of a small silver fish. Leaning forward, I brought the fish into focus through his twin lens reflex rangefinder and pulled the trigger. The large flash bulb erupted and, for a split second, the fish sparkled silver. At a reunion some weeks later, Igo screened images from the trip. “This silver fish image was created by Steve Parish,” he told the audience, “and it is the lad’s first in-focus colour photograph.” The audience spontaneously applauded. I am sure it was the applause that did it; after all, I was a shy boy and here I was being noticed. I had found my voice at last — photography.

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1959 1960 1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 ...

MARINE FISH – in pursuit of a dream Above: In 1965, with my first large-format underwater camera, a Yashica-MAT twin lens reflex. (Photo by Louise Parish) Opposite: A juvenile hammerhead shark. Sharks get a lot of bad publicity, but their behaviour is not malicious, only natural. Pages 20 & 21: A lionfish and red rockcod, just two of over a thousand species of fish I photographed in the wild.

Low self-esteem plagued my adolescent and teen years; however, thanks to the encouragement I received from marine scientists at the Australian Museum in Sydney, this soon changed. In the late sixties and early seventies, senior curators of marine fish and marine invertebrates were rarely divers. As a result, they were thrilled to receive living specimens or colourful, detailed photographs of these difficult-to-study creatures. Most marine fish lose their vibrant colours when they die, and many differ in colour between the sexes or undergo several colour variations throughout their lives. Now it is widely accepted that fish colour variations and the multitude of sizes, shapes and behaviours they exhibit are often first documented, or most extensively documented, using colour photography or film. In those days, we were pioneering this field. To think I was doing “pioneering” work did wonders for my self-esteem. Despite this, being able to effectively describe the behaviour I was observing and to pronounce Latin names and scientific terms remained a challenge. I gave several scientists some good laughs as I trudged my way up a very steep learning curve! Looking back, I can see two things that motivated me in a recurrent pattern — naivety and passion. In 1965, at the peak of my interest in marine fish, the Royal Australian Navy (my employer between 1963 and 1974) transferred me from Sydney to Jervis Bay, New South Wales. The military had got it right — they had drafted a young, water-fit diver-photographer and budding naturalist to one of the best diving localities in Australia! My underwater photography adventures began in earnest. After diving all around Sydney and Port Hacking, Jervis Bay’s clear waters were sensational and the marine life was simply breathtaking, especially in waters more than 30 m deep. I had plenty of opportunity to explore the shallow and deep reefs, seagrass meadows, and sandy and muddy bottoms of this vast temperate marine wonderland. It was a wild place that, in those days, was unknown to all but a few divers. What these cooler temperate waters lacked in species diversity, when compared with the northern tropical waters, they made up for in the unique and bizarre submarine animals they did contain. Fish like the butterfly

gurnard, the pineapplefish with its tiny headlights, boarfish and the beautiful eastern blue devil had a tremendous visual impact. Before long I worked out the best sites for taking photographs. Being airborne almost daily in my work as a navy search and rescue diver gave me a great advantage, and I often planned my next dive from the air, seeking out the calmer waters. Along with honing my photographic skills, in 1967 I began to explore my abilities as a writer and naturalist. With my father as editor, I ploughed headlong into writing about my experiences. Fortunately, my inexperience and a lack of other publications to compare with (there was no Google in those days) protected me from criticism. It was not until years later, after the publication of my first book, that I received some critical comments from academics. My first book, Oceans of Life, was reviewed in the Sydney Morning Herald: “While containing excellent photographs, the text could be described as a classic work of anthropomorphic writing”. I had to look up what anthropomorphic meant in the dictionary! I was shattered. In those days, writing about animals from a human perspective or bestowing them with emotions or recognised human behaviours was a naturalist’s greatest sin. I did not write for two years. How easy it is to allow criticism to dash your dreams, especially when those dreams are in their formative stages. I decided to develop my writing skills, and also to photograph every Australian marine fish in its natural habitat, little realising there are more than 4000 species! How sweet naivety is! Still, I pursued my dream and took every opportunity to photograph fish. The addition of other animal groups to my list of fascinations soon began to curtail my initial objective, and I can admit to you that I have not photographed every single Australian fish species, and probably never will! Today, I appreciate that it does not matter how many species I have photographed; what matters is that the life stories of Australia’s fish are told, so that others respect their position as living wonders and care about fish sustainability and the health of our oceans.

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Above & left: The senior curator of fish at the Australian Museum, Dr John Paxton, had an interest in pineapplefish, also known as knight fish. His studies focused on the symbiotic bacteria that inhabit a depression on the fish’s lower lip. When the fish withdraws a thin, concealing membrane, the bacteria glow red, becoming a “headlight” that can illuminate prey on the sea floor. After receiving a tip off,

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and with the hope of winning John’s favour, I captured four specimens and handed them over to the museum. I was a mere twenty years of age and my aim was to “get inside” the museum, learn more about how it functioned, and have my pictures identified by experts. The strategy worked!

Above & left: During the sixties and early seventies as a navy diver, I had all the time in the world to spend hours watching fish and trying to get as close to them as possible. Having been trained in breath control, I was pretty good at sneaking up on fish in those days. As a result of my submarine stalking, the beautiful butterfly gurnard became the first animal I developed a picture story about. The butterfly gurnard is usually seen resting in the sand, well camouflaged from its enemies.

When disturbed, its colour intensity increases, it raises its dorsal fin to reveal a false eye (a trick device that lures attackers away from the fish’s vulnerable head region), and then begins to slowly “walk” away on its extended ventral fins. If threatened further, it spreads its pectoral fins to create a false impression of size. If all of this is ineffective, the fish darts away with alarming speed. I wanted images that told this story in entirety and, with time and patience, I got them.

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Above, left & opposite: Australia has two endemic seadragon species â&#x20AC;&#x201D; the common seadragon (above) and the leafy seadragon (opposite). To my mind, they are as characteristic of Australia as the kangaroo or the koala and they have remained my two favourite fish species for many years. The leafy seadragon dwells amid Macrocystis kelp (left)

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and is the marine emblem of South Australia. It is also arguably the most bizarre of all fish. Unusually, male seadragons and seahorses care for the eggs. Seahorses carry them in a pouch on the belly, while seadragons attach the eggs to the underside of their tails.

Above: With such intriguing and colourful animals dominating my fish pictures, it stood to reason that before long I would widen my interest to include marine invertebrates. This pink anemonefish is snuggling into the protective tentacles of a bright magenta sea anemone. The two species share a special, mutually beneficial relationship in which the anemonefish lives among the otherwise stinging tentacles in return for keeping away the anemoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s predators.

Left: A sponge-encrusted sea squirt. Opposite: A blacksaddle filefish, a mere 3Â cm in length, swims through a garden of vivid, sponge-encrusted sea squirts. This tiny fish mimics the colours and markings of the poisonous blacksaddle toby. Perceived as poisonous by other predatory fish, the little filefish is left alone.

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LEARNING TO PLAY The element of “play” in my work came to the fore in my thirties. A friend gave me a little book written by artist, printmaker and teacher Desiderius Orban entitled What is Art all About? My friend, Irene Amos, herself a noted abstract artist, inscribed it with the words, “Read between the lines”. Orban wrote: “…Competitiveness and the desire for success should be eliminated. We are happiest when we are most unaware of ourselves and of what we are doing, but enjoy doing it. This process leads us through the wide open gates to creativeness”. He goes on to say, “If the play brings results without conscious effort, that is excellent”. This stopped me dead in my tracks. I began to understand Orban’s idea — art was a process, not the preconceived notion of an end result. With that in mind, I began to cultivate a more playful approach to photography. I created images that were meaningful to me, images that allowed me to express areas of my work that had more to do with “art” than science. Whether I used them in my professional work was irrelevant. Playing with my camera or modifying images using my computer had the added benefit of furthering my technical skills. In “playing” I also developed a fascination with juxtaposition and pattern. Today I still become easily mesmerised by reflections

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in rock pools, movement of shadows, the repeated markings on butterfly wings, or the scales of fish or reptiles, and the list goes on. Nature is filled with gorgeous patterns, shapes and forms. Most look wonderful as they are, naturally, but can also be accentuated in montages or triptychs. Left & opposite: The many species of angelfish are adorned with wonderful colours and patterns, so they are ideal to “play” with as elements in design; the striking blues and yellows of the angelfishs’ markings are presented as a repeating pattern to celebrate the beauty of their design. Similar experimental montages are shared throughout this book.

MARINE INVERTEBRATES – unravelling mysteries Above: Working with a designer in Sydney during the early seventies, I developed an underwater housing for my 500c Hasselblad cameras. One had an 80 mm lens and extension tubes for close-ups; the other had a 50 mm wide-angle lens for fish and larger scenes. The results were stunning, even by today’s standards. (Photo by Igo Oak) Opposite: This image marked the beginning of my fascination with marine invertebrates. It was taken in 1967 and was of a new species — the tiger anemone. This marine invertebrate lives in deep water on sea whips, sea fans and other organisms that protrude from the sea floor. It prefers a steady, open current so that it can feed on passing microplankton.

During my days of diving along the steep, seaward cliffs of Jervis Bay, I experienced a sense of discovery similar to what I imagine Australia’s early explorers must have felt when they set out for places unknown. The heads of Jervis Bay, and the points north and south, vary greatly in structure. Some cliffs drop vertically to the sandy sea floor, while others descend in steps; yet others twist into giant arches or are strewn with boulders or pocked with caverns. Each descent offered a new adventure — with a capital A! The structure of the rocky reefs and the sea floor’s geology also dictated the types of invertebrates I would find. Deep, still water supported abundant sponge growth. Large, calm surface areas encouraged encrusting algae, sponges, ascidians and bryozoans. The deeper I dived, the larger, more colourful and more diverse the invertebrates became, especially in the case of sponges and gorgonian corals, which, in the colder waters, are especially vibrant. Information about marine invertebrates was scarce in those days. While I often managed to identify at least which phyla the invertebrates I photographed belonged to, I was having some difficulty classifying them into classes, especially the sea squirts (ascidians) and encrusting sponges (calcareans). Most other taxon, including genus and species, remained largely a mystery. Like many marine naturalists of the period, I referred to WJ Dakin’s classic book Australian Seashores. Published in 1952, the book contained mostly black-andwhite pictures of accessible intertidal species. In 1966, Isobel Bennett’s The Fringe of the Sea was released. It was a classic book filled with highly detailed, full-colour photographs by FJ Meyer and Keith Gillett, mostly photographed in aquariums or intertidally. Nonetheless, the timing of its release was spot on and it further fuelled my passion for submarine photography.

I developed housings for my underwater cameras and, when friend and colleague Neville Coleman set off on a trip around Australia to photograph and collect marine invertebrates, I remained in Jervis Bay to focus on the eastern temperate species. Neville and I both dreamed of publishing books in the future. He went on to become one of Australia’s most prolific underwater photographers, naturalists and authors; I diversified and included terrestrial animals in my repertoire of nature images. With time, practice and lots of research, I discovered that most of the marine invertebrates I was photographing fell into nine phyla. I also began to understand which animals I would find in the temperate part of the ocean. My underwater experiences excited me so much that they lead to my first book Australia’s Ocean of Life. Published in 1974, it was my first attempt at interpreting animals in a way the general public might understand. I had not accounted for the fact that the public had never seen these creatures before. Motivation to buy a book featuring such unfamiliar creatures was low, and with a print run of 5000, years passed before they finally sold out. I did not recognise it at the time, but it was my first lesson in marketing — while I may be passionate, the rest of the nation may not always share that emotion! Today, I maintain my enthusiasm for publishing books that expound the wonders of these creatures. Using some of the pictures I took in those deep, dark waters, I have been able to create books for children and adults that help them appreciate the complexities of marine invertebrates — some of the most astonishing creatures on planet Earth.

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Variations in colour, pattern, shape and texture abound in invertebrates, as seen in the images on these pages. Corals receive their bright colouring from algae that live in their tissues. Left: A magnificent tunicate sea squirt from temperate waters â&#x20AC;&#x201D; one of the most delicately patterned animals I have ever encountered. â&#x20AC;&#x201A;

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Above, left to right: Sponge; feather star; gorgonian coral. Opposite: The sea floor off Lizard Island, Queensland, is often covered with numerous invertebrate animals, especially in the shallows, where light can easily penetrate.â&#x20AC;&#x201A;

THE ART OF MARINE INVERTEBRATES Something that has long amazed me is how the shades and patterns seen in the surface tissues of molluscs, sea slugs and anemones can be so aesthetically “perfect” in their design, at least to my eye. Even when the colours fluctuate within a pattern, they always seem to work. The best artist would find it impossible to achieve so many visually perfect variations in a lifetime. With my photographer’s eye, I tend to

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choose subjects based on their design appeal, because I want to make eyecatching images that hold a viewer’s attention. Left: The mantle of a giant clam displays a magnificent design. Opposite: The tentacles of this anemone appear to be replicas, yet each differs in its minute, intricate patterns.

Above: Echinoderms, such as feather stars (above) and their relatives the sea stars, sea urchins, sand dollars and sea cucumbers, inhabit tropical and temperate waters around the continent. Each fits into different niches and over the aeons they have evolved extraordinary colours, forms and textures, not to mention lifestyles. I find these creatures irresistible, especially feather stars, which are usually seen attached to the sea floor, their wispy arms undulating in the currents in search of food.â&#x20AC;&#x201A; Opposite: Imagine a stomach that left your body when you dined. Incredibly, sea stars like this multi-coloured firebrick sea star actually have this odd digestive system. Some are able to evert a stomach out of their mouths, on the underside of the body, to cover their food. Page 38: I took this photograph of blubber jellies at midnight (hence the inky background) while diving in the centre of Jervis Bay. I loved to dive at night, especially during rain when the surface waters were calm. 36

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When photographing sea jellies, it pays to know which species are capable of inflicting painful, or even fatal, stings. Sea jellies have delightfully delicate colours and textures, and come in a multitude of shapes and sizes, but they all employ stinging cells, called nematocysts, to kill prey. Some are so venomous they can kill a grown man within minutes.â&#x20AC;&#x201A; Page 39: During mating season, giant Australian cuttlefish can be territorial and aggressive. These two male cuttlefish are in the early stages of rivalry. Once, in very deep water, a giant male about a metre long charged out of the gloom directly at my camera and wrapped its tentacles around it. Cuttlefish are capable of changing their colour and texture within minutes, either for camouflage, to escape predators or to communicate during courtship or when dominating a rival. Relatives of squid, nautiluses and octopuses, these creatures are thought to be the most intelligent invertebrates. They have certainly intrigued me throughout my career.

This Beautiful Hardcover book has over 300 pages and can be purchased online from our webshop: www.steveparish.com.au/product?code=101624

Steve Parish sees himself as a storyteller with a camera. His career behind the lens began in his teens, when he photographed fish. As his passion to photograph all of Australia’s habitats and fauna evolved, he acquired the skills to capture diverse subjects and styles, from documentary to abstract. Today, he is one of the world’s most versatile, prolific and widely published natural and social history photographers. Now in his mid-sixties, Steve keeps busy collecting new images for his wellestablished publishing company. He spends around half of each year in the field and the remaining time assembling books from his home on a bush block in Brisbane, which he shares with his wife and business partner, Catherine, and with Quincy, a demanding shorthaired pointer. Steve likes to approach his work from both a naturalist’s and artist’s perspective. In 2010, he set out to “re-photograph” Australia with some of the world’s most advanced digital cameras. His challenge now is to expand on previous work in terms of content, style and quality. He has also immersed himself in the ambitious “Art of Land Project”, which involves creating major new image collections that tell the story of this continent’s unique flora, fauna and ecosystems.

Left: Temporarily exhausted, a sea-lion takes a well-earned rest between fishing expeditions. I see something of myself in this image. At sixty-five I now reflect excitedly on the next chapters in my life’s journey.

Published by Steve Parish Publishing Pty Ltd PO Box 1058, Archerfield, Queensland 4108 Australia © copyright Steve Parish Publishing Pty Ltd

Some pictures in this book are available as photographic prints for your home or office. Please visit the Steve Parish Publishing website via www.steveparish.com.au/image-library for more information or to place your order.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. Every attempt has been made to contact the owners of any copyright material produced herein. Any copyright enquiries should be directed to the publisher. ISBN 978174193624 7 First published 2010. Photography, text and layout: Steve Parish

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Design: Leanne Nobilio, Thomas Hamlyn‑Harris, SPP Editorial: Karin Cox, Michele Perry, Cathy Vallance, SPP Colour management: Greg Harm, SPP Pre‑press: Dwayne Smith, SPP Produced in Australia at the Steve Parish Publishing Studios