From Krystle Ricci:
I first became aware of my family’s difference when I was 5. We moved from a small country town in the outback of Western Australia to the capital city of Perth. People were constantly pointing it out to us. They remarked on our peculiar country accent which was mixed with the native aboriginal language. And the way we dressed, we weren’t used to the cold climate and would be wearing winter woolies when the weather was seemingly warm to others. I’m still not used to the cold 28 years later.
I, too, started to agree my family was unusual. It didn’t help that my dad was a typical country character who didn’t care about people’s judgments. He thought nothing of collecting the morning paper from the front yard in his underwear for all the neighbours to see. I longed for a normal, non-embarrassing family. It wasn’t until I was thirteen I met my lifelong friend who came from a big crazy Italian family. Our friendship opened up my taste buds to international cuisine (I think I ended up marrying an Italian man because of this) but I loved being around a family that was just as, if not more, outrageous than mine. We still laugh about the shenanigans we got into to this day. It was the first time I started thinking that maybe there was no such thing as a normal family – some are open about their craziness and others just hide it better.
Having photographed many families now, I have noticed the more I document my own family’s tomfoolery the more people connect and trust me to document theirs. They are more confident in letting their own silliness out because we are all the same. Be it Italian, two dads, no dad, or embarrassing country dad who doesn’t wear pants in public. All families firmly base their roots on insanity. Bonds are formed from a comradery of growing up in complete madness.
The following is the documentation of a typical afternoon game of football in my backyard. Notice my sons lack of pants; it must be hereditary.