Breathhold

Whenever I'm in conversation with someone about how I freedive, the first question I'm always asked is "how long can you hold your breath?" And they're missing the entire point.

Freediving isn't a party trick, a test of willpower or an adrenaline pursuit. The question itself - how long can you hold your breath - reduces something profound to something measurable, something vast to something small.

I want to reintroduce freediving and showcase its diversity. For some, it's a meditative escape. For others, it's time with friends, time in the water, time with the ocean. Maybe it's a blank canvas to create art, or a sport they've fallen in love with. Freediving is free for our own definition.

I love the quiet moments of weightlessness. Energetic play that moves through your body. I love the adventure and unknown in deep sea exploration, that every intimate interaction with marine life celebrates an exchange of trust. The underwater realm is entirely immersive. As a photographer, it's my backdrop, my collaborator, and sometimes, my ultimate decider.

Sure, freediving involves holding your breath. The better you get at it, the more relaxed you are, the more present you become, and the more you learn about your body's amazing capabilities. But that's just a part of it, not the entire point.

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Breathhold debuted at the Australian National Maritime Museum for a three-week run in November 2025, as part of Head On Photo Festival's Open Program. Nine images, surreal underwater landscapes, marine life, intimate moments with friends and herself, printed to fine art standard with the support of Canon, and hung in a national institution. Every frame was captured on a single breath, using only natural light, the first time Maddison had ever taken a camera underwater while freediving.

On Sunday, November 23rd, 2025, she gave an artist talk sharing the stories behind the images, before moderating a 90-minute panel discussion entirely of her own concept and curation, titled "The Future of Freediving." What made it remarkable wasn't just the calibre of the guests: Adam Stern (freediving icon), Sheree Marris (marine biologist), Tash Childs (Manly-based freediver), and Sara Tai (underwater model). It was that this was Maddison's first ever public speaking engagement, her first time hosting an audience, and over 150 people spent their sunny Sunday afternoon indoors for it. Adam traced freediving's evolution from competition to education; Sheree spoke to its role as an essential tool in marine biology; Tash explored the biodiversity and ocean access of city living; Sara discussed the underwater world as a blank canvas for creative expression. The museum regarded the event as a significant success, both for its content and its numbers.

Lunar Studios, Sydney's premier photographic studio and creative imaging hub, approached Maddison to hang the works in their atrium. The series expanded to fifteen images and ran for eight weeks from December 2025 to January 2026, finding a whole new audience.

To mark the residency, she hosted an intimate evening on January 29, 2026, a celebration of art, creativity, and community, open to all. Over 100 people came, mostly from the photographic industry, and galleries, curators, and press approached her on the night with interest in showing the work next

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During the birth of this project, I was working toward my Level Two freediving certification, something well within reach, until I got in my own way when expectations formed roadblocks. The more frustrated I became, the further it slipped. So I pivoted to photography instead: no plan, no experience shooting underwater, no certainty I was making anything meaningful. An approach I'd never take. 

The more time I've spent with these images, the more I've realised they hold more than my relationship with freediving; they hold the emotional journey underneath it. This series became bigger than freediving itself. You don't need to dive, or even go near the ocean, to know these feelings — letting go, finding community, staying curious, seeking new adventures, caring for something beyond yourself. That's been the most beautiful discovery of Breathhold: it was never really about the ocean at all.

This project is a candidate for PhMuseum 2026 Women Photographers Grant

Learn more Present your project
© Maddison Woollard - Release | The moment after the moment
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Release | The moment after the moment

© Maddison Woollard - What On Earth | 80-plus freedivers performing the viral 'crab dance,' except for one lone diver who missed the memo
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What On Earth | 80-plus freedivers performing the viral 'crab dance,' except for one lone diver who missed the memo

© Maddison Woollard - Between Worlds | An intersection of the marine realm, human presence, and historical remnants
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Between Worlds | An intersection of the marine realm, human presence, and historical remnants

© Maddison Woollard - Image from the Breathhold photography project
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Revival | Decades after this Japanese vessel fell to aerial attacks in WWII, coral has transformed the wreck into a thriving reef

© Maddison Woollard - The Vortex | A sardine bait ball, a strong aggregation yet fluid formation, is only felt through experience
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The Vortex | A sardine bait ball, a strong aggregation yet fluid formation, is only felt through experience

© Maddison Woollard - Into The Blue | Front row at one of nature's greatest shows, chaos becomes choreography
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Into The Blue | Front row at one of nature's greatest shows, chaos becomes choreography

© Maddison Woollard - Unworldly | Sculpted by ancient lava, a limestone staircase rises from its lake depths back to where it all began
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Unworldly | Sculpted by ancient lava, a limestone staircase rises from its lake depths back to where it all began

© Maddison Woollard - Landing | Inside the crater of an extinct volcano, cave-like pillars rule this underwater landscape
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Landing | Inside the crater of an extinct volcano, cave-like pillars rule this underwater landscape

© Maddison Woollard - Image from the Breathhold photography project
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Visitor | Suspended beneath a living ceiling, alone in the company of thousands, the boundary between observer and observed blurs