A conversation with Melbourne photographer: Pauline Klemm

We walk through the city as she shoots; the camera moves easily in her hands, as if it knows where to go before she does. This isn’t a performance. It’s familiarity. Years of looking carefully, of noticing people before photographing them. Portraits and events are her bread and butter now, but the work feels less like documentation and more like attention, the rare, generous kind.

Pauline came to photography later in life, after a sudden and devastating shift: the death of her brother. It’s not a story she tells for drama, and it’s not framed as redemption. It’s simply the truth of where the Sliding Door opened. In the quiet aftermath of grief, photography became a way to stay close to the world, to observe, to connect, to hold something steady when everything else felt uncertain.

That sense of connection runs through everything she does. Whether she’s photographing an event or standing face-to-face with a stranger, her approach is rooted in respect.

During this conversation with a Melbourne photographer, Pauline talks about trust not as a technique, but as a responsibility. 

Her work has taken her well beyond Melbourne. Projects in India left a deep imprint, not just visually, but spiritually. The experience reinforced what she already suspected: that photography is less about control and more about presence. About being open to what’s unfolding in front of you, rather than forcing a story onto it.

Every photographer, whether they admit it or not, has a muse. Pauline’s is Baba Desi, also known locally as the Belgrave Wizard. A figure both theatrical and grounded, mystical and deeply human. Through him, Pauline found permission to lean into curiosity, to photograph with heart instead of armour.

When the conversation turns to advice, Pauline talks about making work that matters to you first. About allowing your life to inform your photographs.

Watching her work, it becomes clear: photography, for Pauline, isn’t about freezing moments. It’s about staying with them a little longer. Long enough to understand. Long enough to care.