During the pandemic, Melbourne held the world record for the highest number of days spent in lockdown. That’s not really a record you want to have. My family – me, my wife Mariya and our daughter Mia who was four at the time – had done all the standard things: puzzles, daily walks, baked sourdough. By lockdown number six, options for new activities were scarce. But Mia’s obsession with space gave us an idea – to make her a spacesuit. My wife had trained as a costume designer and she thought it might brighten Mia’s day to show her how something can be created from scratch. The best bit was making the papier-mache helmet: they blew up a little balloon and then stuck newspaper cuttings around it.
At the time, we were allowed outside for only two hours each day, and we had to keep within a 5km radius of our home. Having this suit as a prop had a transformative effect on our outings, turning them into space exploration missions. Even as adults, if you put a bold piece of clothing on, you start to play the role of the costume.
It was never meant to be a photography project, though. At first, I didn’t even take a camera, I just took a few snaps on my phone. It was more about the adventure. Each day we would venture out somewhere different, talk about what we’d seen, then plan our next day’s mission on the map. It was always quiet on the streets but I like to think we made other people’s day more interesting – you could definitely spot people smiling at us from behind their face masks.
A favourite place to wander around was the fence of the nearby Moorabbin Air Museum, where you could see old aeroplanes sitting in the grounds. As soon as things started to open up a little, we took a trip there, and I brought along my big, medium format camera. As we were exploring, a massive thunderstorm rolled in. The best place to take shelter was inside this old bus – a 1972 CAC Comair. It was quite magical with just the two of us inside. She isn’t normally one for sitting quietly, but I noticed her on the seat, looking outside, waiting for the rain to pass. It was a rare moment of contemplation for her. I took a couple of shots. As I developed that roll, I was surprised to see the colours – they were much more dreamy and cinematic than I remember them being in real life.
Mia can be very silly when she’s playing, but this captured a deeper side. We tend to photograph children with exaggerated faces, making them grin and say cheese. I think they deserve better than that. When you catch them at the right moment, there’s so much personality to them. I put the images on Instagram and they took off. A lot of people saw themselves in my child. Others identified with a sense of feeling disconnected from the bigger world.
From a creative point of view, what I learned is how limitation can be the biggest enabler of creativity. When you have all of the tools and opportunities at your disposal, you don’t have to think differently or improvise. I also learned that you don’t have to stick to a plan. Sometimes Mia might see a lane that we’d never been down, so we would just take that turn. Those were the best times.
It’s mind-blowing to have won awards for this – including being named Australian Photography Magazine’s photographer of the year – because really, I still feel like an impostor. I dabbled in professional photography many years ago: I shot some celebrities for commercial projects, but nothing got much traction. Back then, I just liked to be able to name-drop people and move in those circles. This was totally the opposite. It was a very personal project – so it’s ironic that this is the one that has blown up and put me in the spotlight.
There were offers from publishers but the project was never intended to generate fame. With every opportunity that came in, I had to ask: does this fit the original purpose? I decided instead to put a Kickstarter up to try to publish this project myself. It has been very stressful and it took me nine months attending to all the details and trying to find suppliers who could do it justice. But at least this way, if you make mistakes, they’re your own. And fortunately the book has come out well.
Maybe it’s a bit of Stockholm syndrome, but in a way, I miss the weirdness of the world during the pandemic. I know many people had a terrible time, but for me, the silver lining was being able to see my daughter grow up. It was a privilege to capture the world during a really strange time – through the eyes of a four-year-old.
Andrew Rovenko’s CV
Born: Odesa, Ukraine, 1978.
Trained: “On the job, by a chance invitation to work for a magazine after the editor came across my amateur shots. Not very good ones, so me being cheap and hungry was a more likely reason.”
Influences: “My own childhood, in its late Soviet setting. Tarkovsky. Then Sally Mann, Jeffrey Smart.”
High point: “The nod of approval from my harshest critic, the now six-year-old Rocketgirl, as the first advance copy of The Rocketgirl Chronicles book was subjected to her fastidious examination. That was the only one that truly mattered.”
Low point: “Finding the dark slide still in the camera after the excitement of capturing the ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ moment. Classic little things.”
Top tip: “Far and wide are for taking in. Focused is for projecting out.”
• The Rocketgirl Chronicles is available now
