AbMon Photography

Name: AbMon Photography
Address: Villa Studios, Tauranga, 3112, NZ
Telephone: +64221761992
Price range: $$
Rating: 5

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AbMon Photography

Photography, Words, Art, and Mentoring. "All stories are worth sharing; I capture everything 🥺"
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10/06/2026

Life has been testing my artistic resolve lately, pressing against the edges of what I thought I could hold. And all I can say is this: the deeper it tries to bury me, the deeper I surrender into creation.

There is a strange divinity in pressure, a shaping force that asks me to become more than what I currently am. Life keeps pushing, and I keep turning it into art. It feels like life is experimenting with me, unaware that I translate everything into story, into image, into breath made visible. Stories and art are the things that keep me here, the things I return to when everything else dissolves. I am not resisting anymore. I am responding. And in that response, I find meaning unfolding through me.

I just wish my nervous system could handle all of this becoming.

08/06/2026

Sit and see what comes when you look at this.

03/06/2026

Tennis on a Sunday. I brought my camera to witness my brothers Tym and Nic moving across the court bodies repeating patterns that felt almost predetermined like life rehearsing itself. I felt detached at first as if meaning had slipped away between frames.

Then I turned to in camera multiple exposure layering moments collapsing time into a single seeing. Boredom dissolved into observation. I stopped watching tennis and started watching existence thinking itself through motion becoming

01/06/2026

Swipe and step into a turning season. Autumn has always been my favourite season of the year. The colours feel like the universe and Bob Ross in heaven painting directly through the trees, each branch a living stroke of fire and gold. The air carries a warm invitation, asking as the leaves surrender their grip what within you is ready to be released as well?

(Fancy caption typed - WHAT THE FCK! these have be some of my favourite captures to date! WTF! I took these? Me? A sand-grain in the existence of time captured this beauty!!!)

29/05/2026

To witness harm unfolding among those you love is to feel the limits of belonging. You are not vessel of consequence, only observer of trajectories already in motion. The self fractures between care and helpless knowing, and the task becomes staying present with what you see without dissolving yourself into what you cannot control. You learn that seeing clearly does not always grant the right to change what is seen.

26/05/2026

I have both lost myself and rediscovered myself these past few months. For most of my life, I thought becoming meant staying close to the light: staying productive, optimistic, untouchable. I kept myself moving so I would never have to fully sit with fear, grief, or contradiction. If I focused hard enough on the sunlight, I believed the shadows would eventually disappear on their own.

But they never did.

What I’m learning now is that avoidance does not create peace: it only creates distance from yourself. The shadows don’t ruin the light; they give it depth. Integration makes the sunlight brighter because it is finally authentic.

Anyways, here’s a poem that found me while I was throwing images together in Photoshop.

I wish to fly away but I finally like this tree.
I used to mistake avoidance for peace,
distance for freedom,
silence for control.

I wish to fly away but I finally like this tree.
But there is something sacred
about no longer abandoning yourself
at the first sign of discomfort.

22/05/2026

I looked after In Good Company on the 17th of May and somewhere between the stillness of the gallery and the work held on the walls, inspiration found me again. So I did what I always do when that feeling arrives. I stopped trying to think my way through it and simply played.

These images came from that.

There is something almost unsettling about how art travels through us. How a piece can enter you once, disappear into memory, then return months later as something entirely new in your hands. It makes me question what “original” even means. Is anything ever really starting, or are we all just continuing something that was already in motion long before we arrived?

And if that is true, then where does a piece of work actually begin? In the moment it is made, or in the moment it is remembered? In the artist’s hand, or in the observer’s mind when it resurfaces without warning? Or does it exist somewhere in between, waiting for us to notice it again and again in different forms?

In Good Company is on until the end of King’s Weekend, and I will be in the gallery tomorrow too, assuming I have not completely mixed up my dates hahaha.

21/05/2026

In Good Company opened on the 8th of May, and somewhere within me, something exhaled. There are spaces in this world that do more than hold people. They hold becoming. Exhibitions have always felt that way to me. A temporary sanctuary where art and humanity stand beside each other long enough to remind us we are not alone.

At first, the anxiety arrived as it always does, circling the edges of my chest, questioning whether I belonged there at all. Yet slowly, through conversation, through colour, that heaviness softened. Community has a way of returning us to ourselves. Art has a way of reminding us that survival can become expression.

I think there is something deeply healing about realising you are allowed to take up space. That the things you created in moments of loneliness and or wonder can resonate beyond your own hands. So much of what I make comes from a fear of disappearing, of drifting unseen through life. To witness fragments of myself reflected back through other people’s eyes felt sacred. Proof that what saves us privately can sometimes touch others publicly.

Exhibiting alongside artists I consider powerhouses in their own beautifully unique ways healed parts of me I did not realise were still carrying wounds. Gratitude hardly feels large enough for that feeling. To stand among people whose work carries such honesty, depth, and presence reminded me that art is never simply decoration. It is evidence of existence. It is memory given form. It is vulnerability refusing silence. It is connection in a world that so often teaches isolation.

It has never been just art on walls to me. It is people leaving pieces of their spirit behind so others may feel less alone.

In Good Company has one more week at the Peoples Gallery, open from 10am to 3pm. I hope people wander in and allow themselves to find their own connection with the work, because sometimes healing arrives quietly through the simple act of witnessing another human being honestly.

18/05/2026

This is not a painting. It is just emotion spread across the surface, asking to be seen without explanation.

I have spent months carrying weight that was never assigned to me, lifting it as if it were proof of worth. I asked for stronger shoulders, deeper breath, wanting to become an oak in an ocean, unshaken, yet I never asked whether the ocean was mine to hold, or whether I had mistaken burden for meaning. Somewhere in painting, my body began to think instead of endure. My shoulders loosening, breath returning, I felt a question rise: why do I carry what was never mine? In that asking, childhood patterns surfaced, where worth was measured by capacity to hold everything. Yet as colour moved across the surface, something softened within me, and I remembered that healing is not addition but return to what was always enough.

When the work was done, I chose fire, allowing it to leave the world the same way it arrived, briefly and completely.

15/05/2026

Am I the cat or am I the bird being eaten alive?

The deeper I travel into myself, the less stable the ground becomes. There are cathedrals built from devotion beside ruins shaped by impulse. My spirit shifts like tectonic plates beneath water, entire emotional continents colliding against one another without rest. I can feel compassion blooming beside destruction, creation standing arm in arm with collapse. Every version of me believes it deserves permanence, yet life keeps rearranging the throne. Perhaps the self is not a singular creature but a parliament of hungers negotiating existence beneath one fragile skin.

Who really knows! Maybe nothing is being eaten or surviving at all, only transformation rehearsing itself through the illusion of separation. God, I must put this pen down. The mind is becoming fatigued.

Address

Villa Studios
Tauranga
3112

Telephone

+64221761992

Website

https://www.instagram.com/abmoncreative/

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