When a group of rural photojournalists formed an Instagram account – Beauty in the Bush Collective – to inspire and motivate each other, the cascade of images and stories proved so powerful they needed a permanent home, somewhere tangible, forever. And so, Bush Journal was born.
Bush Journal – funded by a calendar made by the group – published its first, 40-page edition in 2021, a visually-led collection of evocative stories produced on high-quality news stock, in reverence to what was once a permanent fixture on kitchen benches across the bush – the newspaper. “It has that newspaper feel,” editor Jessica Howard says, “there’s something special about holding it.”
Credit: Self-portrait by Jessica Howard Photography.
Jess, one of the Bush Collective’s members, grew up on a cattle property near Biloela in Central Queensland, before working in TV production in the UK. When she returned to Australia and settled on the Sunshine Coast where she now lives with her English-born husband and two young sons, the now freelance writer and photographer found herself drawn to rural stories, craving renewed connection with the place she was born, the indisputable sense of home.
And while she hasn’t made rural Australia home to live, Jess has found her ties in the pages of the Bush Journal, in the stories of station managers, wool producers, chopper pilots, their words of joy, sorrow, and survival. “I left home knowing the family operation wasn’t for me,” Jess says. “But I figured out the long way that this is where I find connection and value.”
The Chalkers, a wool-producing family near Cowra in the Central West region of New South Wales featured in Vol.1.
Image by Elena Chalker, commissioned by Bush Journal.
The stories in the quarterly publication are beautifully told by contributors across the country; writers and photographers, who are also farmers, mothers, and graziers. Jess too shared pieces of her own story in the first volume. ‘Documenting Dad’ explores her relationship with her father, fraught at times, though founded on a deep love. The response was affirming.
“So many people emailed me saying ‘this is me, this is my country dad who I never really got until I was older and could understand the stresses of farming and what he goes through for his family’,” Jess says.
“You often think your feelings and story are unique, or you’re alone in it, but to hear it’s universal is so wonderful.”
As it approaches its first anniversary, there’s big things on the horizon for the publication that sits somewhere between a magazine and a newspaper. Bush Journal is partnering with the 2022 Birdsville Races, with hundreds of copies set to grace trackside stands. Finding a ride for a photographer on a long haul cattle truck across Australia is also in Jess’ sights.
Image by Ellie Morris, commissioned by Bush Journal.
With Vol. 04 about to hit the shelves of both rural and city stockists, Jess reflects on the passion project she weaves together during her toddler’s naps, the ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ school hours, and long into the night.
“I think if I believed in it even two percent less it wouldn’t happen,” Jessica says.
“But there’s so many opportunities to tell truly evocative stories from the bush that make people really feel something, and we want to create a place for them to be told.”
Each edition of Bush Journal features a ‘day-in-the-life’. Here’s Jess’s.
I crawl out of my two-year-old’s bed where I’ve been sleeping because he’s been sick this week and it’s the only way I can get any sleep. I try to get the kids to school. One of them is not a morning person. Crying and drama ensues.
I spend the morning writing, at my best when I’ve had a coffee and my head is clear. I’m also the distribution woman so I wake to a few orders in my email. I’m always processing orders. We’ve been doing a lot of events lately so there’s lots of packing journals and trying to organise the logistics of getting them to the really far-flung places that couriers don’t want to go. We also have a print shop so I deal with printers, doing test prints and making sure everything’s okay on that front. For the last few months I’ve been working on a book project so I talk with publishers and designers.
The afternoon is a scramble. I watch the clock and come 2.30pm I jump in the car and pick up the kids. We try to get homework done, the kids are crying because they’re tired, and I try to make a dinner that doesn’t come out of a tin.
Once the kids are in bed I go back to work for a few hours, organising our social media and scheduling posts. Just as I drift off into a deep sleep, ideas about stories I want to write pop into my head and I jot them down in my phone. They often don’t make sense in the morning and I know I’ll see them and think ‘is this why I’m so tired?’. And then, I collapse in a puddle.