There’s something about Kelly Warden’s work that makes you pause — maybe it’s the way she captures moments somewhere between documentation and emotion, or how her images feel like little stories she wants to keep for herself. Her photography is also a love letter to nature — and to the quiet, unguarded beauty of being human. “When I have the opportunity to spend time immersed in nature, it feels like I’m coming home to myself,” she tells us — and you can feel that truth in every frame.
We talked with the Australian-born creative, now living on the road across Europe, about finding home in movement, the patience film photography teaches, and why love and purpose are her guiding lights.
Kelly, your Instagram feels like a dream journal — misty forests, barefoot moments, slow mornings on the road. What does home mean to you these days?
Home has always been more of a feeling than a place for me.
My parents emigrated when I was two, and by the time I was seven, I’d lived on three continents. I grew up in Western Australia, but I moved to Switzerland three years ago, where I met my love, Quentin. Just over a year ago, we moved into a van, and we’ve been incredibly lucky to travel throughout Europe while working on the road.
Living in so many places means my relationship to “home” has always been soft around the edges — it’s always been an ebb and flow through different places.
In saying that, I think the idea of “home” is so much deeper than just a physical place; it’s a feeling.
I’ve come to realise that home is wherever I feel I have a relationship: to the people there, to nature, or to my own sense of purpose.
Sometimes that means feeling fulfilled working in the local community; other times it’s finding connection with the land itself. As a kid, I grew up on a bush block surrounded by trees and Australian wildlife — so, from a young age, being in nature became my way of connecting.
When I have the opportunity to spend time immersed in nature, it feels like I’m coming home to myself — whether that’s the way a forest helps to ground you, or the sea reminds you to let go.
Living in the van has deepened that. We move through so many landscapes — windswept beaches, rolling hills, mountains drenched in light — and in that process I’ve surrendered even more to being held by nature in all her diversity.
But I’d be lying if I said I don’t envy those with strong roots. Intergenerational belonging to a place is something I deeply admire — especially First Peoples who have been the custodians of their ancestral lands since time immemorial. We would all do well to respect and learn from the wisdom that comes with that.
You call yourself a “human bean.” What’s the story behind?
It started with my friend Julia — we met while working at an açaí bar together when we were teenagers. She’d call me “bean” or “beanie,” and it stuck. I liked it. I carry so many labels in life, but at the end of the day, I’m a human bean trying my best.
“To love and to live with purpose. In a world of so much division, to love is a truly radical act.”
You are based in Ireland, right? Living with nature all around — the sea, the woods, the wind — how has that shaped your relationship with your body?
Travelling around Ireland was a beautiful and unexpected opportunity to reconnect with natural healing and traditional medicine. The land there is so abundant, and I’m lucky to have met an amazing community of young people who are reclaiming the practice of foraging and natural remedies! Learning about how to support my body from the land has really opened the door to having an even deeper connection and appreciation for nature.
I also spent more time outdoors — trail running through endless green forests, cold plunging in the Atlantic, floating down rivers, and even soaking in a hot seaweed bath for the first time. I felt like my body was constantly in conversation with the elements, which is a connection I was craving.
I love your travel photos — they feel so spontaneous. Even though we’ve all seen so many pictures from the road, yours are still a joy to look at — there’s something special about them. How do you decide when a moment is worth capturing?
Shooting on film taught me patience. I don’t want to waste a frame, so film forces me to think before I take a photo — especially since I have to “ration” my film when I’m travelling. I also take time to analyse the images every time I get a roll back, so I know what worked and what didn’t. I think that process helped me develop my eye and get a good sense of what I like. So, now when I click the shutter, it’s a mix of intuition and experience.
When you photograph people, they always seem so relaxed and natural in front of the camera. How do you create that kind of atmosphere?
Honestly, I think I’m just the biggest hype girl when I’m photographing someone. I love portrait photography, and I’m so happy when I get the opportunity to take beautiful photos of people, so I’m often behind the camera with so much excitement, and it makes them feel stoked on the whole experience as well.
“The light is my teacher; I’m still working on being a better student.”
Do you see photography more as storytelling or as a way of remembering? Or something else entirely?
For me it’s definitely more for storytelling. I’m a journalist and a social media content creator, so I am either photographing with a story at the back of my mind, or with a vision for how I would share the content on socials — even if it’s just photos from a holiday or travelling.
Some people might find that superficial — but storytelling is my calling, so it tends to seep into everything I do.
What role does light play in your work — are you chasing it or waiting for it?
Honestly, if there is one lesson I need to learn as a photographer, it’s how to chase the light and wait for it. Too many times I’ve run out of frames right before golden hour and been so disappointed to have missed the perfect light. I’m really spontaneous, so my approach to photography tends toward bringing a camera everywhere and snapping when the moment is right — regardless of the light at that moment. But I know some of my favourite images have come when I planned for it — especially those gorgeous shots at dusk and dawn. So yeah, the light is my teacher; I’m still working on being a better student!
“Home has always been more of a feeling than a place for me.”
How do you navigate the balance between photographing the moment and simply living in it?
Again, I think film forces a balance — 36 frames a roll means you can’t shoot everything. In saying that, photography doesn’t necessarily pull me out of the moment anyway: often it deepens it. I wouldn’t spend hours poring over the veins of a leaf, or awing over the raindrops on a window, if I wasn’t photographing it. Sometimes the act of photographing something drives me to appreciate it even more.
What’s the most unexpected thing that has brought you joy lately?
I recently started a documentary project with my partner that has me flowing with so much passion and purpose. It’s such an important story, and I’ve been manifesting the opportunity to do a documentary on it for years. It came into fruition in a really unexpected way a few months ago, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunity.
The most important thing in life is?
To love and to live with purpose. It sounds totally cliché, but I feel that in a world of so much division, to love is a truly radical act. bell hooks’ book, All About Love, really nailed this home for me. I also think it’s really important to live with a sense of purpose. I’ve worked hard to shape a life that lets me work for organisations that make a positive impact in the world. I know how privileged I am to work in a way that’s perfectly aligned with both my values and my passion — so it keeps me anchored and driven to keep working hard.
www.instagram.com/kellywarden.jpeg
Sheila O’Callaghan, Writer, actor and model living on the most westerly island of Ireland
