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Human Connections

22/10/2018

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     As I walked along the beach today, I thought about how I have been lucky in my life to have been able to spend chunks of time with very diverse groups of people.

I came to be thinking about it because of a friend of mine, Colton. We’ve just been friends for a year of so and although we haven’t really hung out that much in actuality, the bond is strong. It’s based on a positive outlook on life, a love of music. self expression and spirit. I answered an ad for a Korg Electribe rhythm production sampler on Gumtree and ended up at a boutique studio tucked away in the hills of Wilson’s Creek. I was met by the sound engineer, a Canadian with dreads and an easy manner. I didn’t buy the sampler but a few weeks later I invited him to a electronic music jam session in Byron and our friendship was formed.

He is one of a handful of musicians and music producers I have come to know over the last few years since I started doing my music production diploma at SAE. There are many top quality people like my teacher/mentors, Tyler from San Diego and James from Scotland. As well as them, there are the audio techs at school, fellow students and numerous DJs and local musicians who I have come to be friends with.

Spending time and interacting with these peeps has been a wonderful side benefit of my decision to studying music. Being around musos, I have come to know the breed from the inside. And I must say, they are a quality ilk. Easy going, considerate, and talented. Before I found myself enmeshed in the audio world, in my decades previous as more of a visual - art and film - person, I have to admit, I kind of always considered audio studies to be less desirable. It didn’t seem to offer the same vitality and energy that say, shooting or directing presented. I never considered it as something I would choose. Ironically, now that I am in it - deeply immersed - I have come to realise that it is a fantastically rewarding pursuit - in some ways the best ever. It’s like I stumbled into an entire world of wonder and magic that was always right there - I just never knew. It has been a revelatory experience, one that seems like it will continue to engulf, thrill me and pay me creative dividends way beyond expectations.

As well, it has connected me, more tangibly, with a new group of excellent people. Audio people are a true cool breed and I am very happy to be part of this exciting new subsection of creators.

I recall feeling a similar thrill when I was just nineteen and in my first year at art school. I looked around and thought; Wow, everyone here is kind of a weirdo! I found a place to belong! Previous to that I had tried two universities - Sophia, Tokyo and Sydney and found the whole academic world to be far too passive - too rote - too dry - and mostly unrewarding for me. At art school it was all about doing - expressing who we were - as honestly and intensely as possible. Not about being fed a whole bunch of old, preexisting concepts from books. We were there to discover and find meaning by making stuff - images, drawings, paintings, sculptures. I was lucky, cause back then National Art School was 95% practical. Just doing. There was an art history class - but it was just looking at slides after smoking joints and casually discussing images together and with the teachers - who were all practicing artists. Indeed, in third year of the painting major, we were each given a small studio space on the top floor an old sandstone jail and instructed to go for it. Teachers would drop by now and then for a chat, but really it was about allowing us to forge out own ways. A lot was learnt from each other. I loved being friends with and hanging out with artists back then as much as I do hanging out with musicians these days.

Back in high school in Tokyo, the group I eventually became part of was twofold. One was a couple of guys from the year below me. I was young for my class and although I did have a few friends it wasn’t till I somehow started hanging out with a Canadian, American and Brazilian guy from the class below (Richard, Kurt and Ricky) that I really found a place to belong. It helped that we were all non-conformists, rode motorbikes and liked partying. The other group I found place with was with the girls from the girls school. They would all go to a tiny basement cafe called Comos, in Hiroo, and drink coffee, smoke cigarettes and banter. Somehow, I became part of the gang. There were a few other guys, as well, but it was mostly the girls. A Hawaiian, a Texan, a Korean and a Japanese Brazilian were the stand outs. I learnt so much about life from these chicks. The Hawaiian girl, Jenny, and I became best friends eventually. She was one of the best people I have ever met. At the time, I was a little over weight and kind of an outsider, but through humour, a love of casual hanging out, and a willingness for explorative mischief in general - I became an integral member of the group. I was privy to some amazing stories and inside info! At school I was a non-achiever, not into sports or any extra curricular activities. I had trouble with authority and an efforts by teachers to order me around would get my back up. I mostly avoided trouble (by not getting caught) but did not find much value in the system - other than it supplying my clan and opportunities to facetiously rebel.

Another group that came out of this time was the night life people. I used to go out to discos and nightclubs and became friends with a number of Japanese nightclub workers, owners and partiers of the time. I also got to know some hostesses, high end call girls and members of the yakuza (tough but honourable). Being fluent in Japanese at the time was unusual and having lived there since the age of ten, I had insight into and respect for their traditions and mannerisms. I was a friendly, fun-seeking teen and was quickly able to become a kind of mascot to a number of interesting characters. In a few Roppongi nightclubs I was more than just a regular, I was availed special treatment - like being able to hang out in the DJ booth, sit in the VIP areas on occasion, and supplied with plenty of free drinks. It was pretty awesome. My preferred garb of the time was the full disco regalia - wide collared open shirt, vest and jacket - with heeled shoes or cowboy boots. I was as close to John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever as there was. It was an awesome time. A few times I almost got into some trouble, but somehow always managed to avoid anything serious. And again, it was because of my proximity and connection to the group that I was able to find meaning and satisfaction in the scene. I had incredible access to the Japanese ‘mizu shobai’ (nightlife world) of the time and got to witness and experience some dynamic and exciting things thanks to my proximity and friendships with key players.

A decade later, in the 90’s, it was all about film. A group of us used to hang out at the Tropicana cafe in Kings Cross - actors, writers, directors - and talk about projects and dreams. This was a fun bunch, too. I had found a new gang. The Tropfest was born in this time. I was there when it was first discussed - just an idea. John took it up and ran with it. My friend Rob Mac and I each had our short films in the first two - screened at the cafe itself back in those days. Rob and I went on to make a TV show called Coo-ee Australia for Japanese TV on spec. Many of the actors from those days have done well and we’re still friends. I continued to be involved in the film business for a decade, working on mostly Japanese TV commercials, TV shows and documentaries around Australia, New Zealand, the US and Japan. Film crews were my new family. Another fine bunch of people. Grips, DPs, art directors, runners. Lots of free spirits convening on projects. Like a circus troupe. Hard workers. Hard players.

After that I tried my hand at screenwriting, studying in LA. That was pretty solitary. I spent about three years immersed in that world. Studied at various places, read a thousand screenplays. One by one, I wrote six features. None of them got picked up. Maybe if there had been a gang, I may have endured.

The next group was poker players. What started as a casual tournament down at the local ended up lasting for a decade and over 3,000 tournaments. In the end I was semi-professional, making a few hundred a week, playing most nights, travelling around to wherever a good game was. Poker players are another strange breed. Itinerant, quirky, strong personalities. I got to know some good people, making friends from Lithuania, Germany, Britain and the US, as well as plenty of Aussies. Shared some good adventures and laughs.

So… it’s all about the people. Forming connections, bonds. Finding your tribe, or tribes that fit with what you are doing. Sharing pursuits, passions, techniques, goals, dreams. And now that I consider it all, it is the friendships and those special connections that endure. Memories were made. Some I will never see again. Most. But it doesn’t matter. We shared some good times together. It’s good to be part of a gang, affiliated with and immersed together in a common pursuit. We humans are good for each other.

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Meditations On Writing

25/12/2017

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You can access alternative reality planes
Without the use of substances or drugs
Your mind has powers beyond the limit of your imagination
And when you journey towards the edges
You can peer over
Keep on going
Your choice
There is no limit
Go as far as you desire
In any direction
Beyond temporal, space constrictions
As far as your imagination desires

You can do it by reading, by just thinking
Daydreaming, meditation
Or you can do it by doing something creative
(And there are other ways, too; music, sports and science to name a couple)
But for now I will concentrate on writing

Because I have an intimate relationship with writing
I get lost in my writing sometimes
Quite often
I find myself again, always
Slightly changed
Renewed, redefined
Enigmatic the effect
Not tangible exactly
Not easily explainable
But I will try

By forming words to describe your headspace
You are actively sculpting
Something that you are not sure of
Your instinct and intuition guide you
After some practice
You just keep going
You move out of your own way
No judgement
No editing

Word after word
Become phrases, sentences, paragraphs
Then eventually you have something of substance
Something with meaning

May just be a description
May be a collection of opinions
May be an astute observation
Or a combination of them all

You get into a rhythm
You fingers syncopated with your breathing
Your blood euphorically pumping
Because it knows that you are leading
With your heart and mind
Creating
Something that your soul responds to

But also being lead
Somewhere
Somewhere different to where you started
A short distance from your your departure
But increasingly further the longer you continue

It is very much like going on a journey
Without physically going anywhere
It involves trust and exploration
Invention and imagination
What is coming up?
What’s next?
Impulsiveness and consideration go hand in hand
Personal opinion and universal understanding
Side by side
Integrated

There are moments of pause
Quick decisions, choices
Go this way or that?
Swerving, scaling, chasing...
It’s just a game
Best not to be too serious
About anything
But put your heart into it
Commit
And carry on

I like to write in cafes
Look up
In the moments in between
Get distracted momentarily
By a beautiful figure passing by
An alluring waltz in her step
Perhaps
A ragamuffin mutt
Distractingly cute
Or
You will pick up
A voice that can’t be ignored
The curious glance of a stranger
Soft toned enquiry from a waitress

Grab an instant out of reality
Integrate it, maybe
But usually not
Just dive back in to the river
Continue down the stream
How sweet it is to have access
To such a silky self created dream

I really do recommend it
To everyone, to all
It’s a wonderful, simple pleasure
No discipline at all, really
Just practice
Practice, practice
And more doing, doing, doing
But when it is like this
Something that you love so
It’s enlightening and rewarding

And how many things
Can you say
Provide you
With both of those at once?

Without getting to preachy
I do believe
That we need to aspire
As human beings
To loftier heights
We are born to explore, extend
Elevate ourselves and each other

And writing is such a simple
Magnificent
Process
Available to all
No rights or wrongs
Say what you want
The way you want
When you want and how you want

Whether or not
Someone will read it
Does not matter
The act itself offers the greatest pleasure
The purest reward

It allows you to ask the questions
To consider unthinkable options
To shake up existing notions
Pull the covers away from rustling theories
Buried deep beneath
A pile of daily distractions

It allows you to delve deep
To hypothesise
Envisage
Suppose

In some ways it offers
So much freedom
That it can seem overwhelming
So what to do?
Don’t worry
Start with anything
Just get going

As you carry on
You will discover
That what needs to be revealed
Will be

It’s mystical
It’s magic
Spirit is involved
Soul accessed

I am doing it right now
Nothing fancy

And I want to encourage you
To do the same
Write anything
Give yourself a chance
To discover the sweetest of nectars
A most noble of enterprises
An entree to self expansion

It’s exquisite
Let it take you
Where you may otherwise
Have never gone
​
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golden years

30/10/2015

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I was talking to a couple of guys last night at poker. I've met them before and know their names, but I don't know much else about them. Turns out that one of them is a year older than me and one of them a year younger; 53 and 55.

In between calling bets, folding and raising we mumbled a comment each about 'getting on a bit':

"Time is no longer unlimited. It makes for greater focus."

"I've been through a lot, survived all kinds of situations. I don't worry about little things anymore."

"It's not too bad. I preferred being younger."

I think one of these was really said. I just made up the other two. No one really talks about anything meaningful at a poker table. We're all trying to win the hand. If nothing else, it is a game that demands concentration (for optimum play).

But what of getting older? Hitting the mid fifties?

It is a surprise somedays, to look in the mirror at myself and notice that my face and head have aged. Of course, I know that decades have passed since I was young. I was there. But at the same time, it doesn't feel like that long. 

If I was to still look 35 or even 40, I would not find it discomforting or strange. It's as though the ageing of the body kind of rushes on ahead, on it's own volition, at a certain point and then calls out to you, 'Hey look! This is you! You've got grey! You've got wrinkles now! Less hair - on the head - and more inside the ears!'

Acceptance is the only option, of course. A cynical surrender. A dissassociative shrug.

On the inside remains the sterling will, the sharp focus, the tuned awareness. In fact, over time, some of the internal mechanisms have actually improved. Experience is the greatest of teachers. Lessons have been learnt. Dues paid. 

And then you start to consider people who you have know or have met or interacted with over the last while who are in their sixties and seventies. You don't feel quite as distanced from them anymore. You understand the slight slowing down, the laid back attitude, the inner quiet that some possess.

You realise that you are on the verge of joining a new club. You are also on the verge of leaving an old one. Younger people aren't seeing you as one of them any more. They haven't for a while probably. But you are noticing it more. It's fine, it's alright, because you have been in the club for long enough. It's activities don't interest or inspire like they used to. You are seeking something different. Something with new rewards. 

It is not all about more, more, more anymore. It is not about being as extreme as possible. It is not about affectation. It is not about talking up your game, seeking attention.

There is no time for these things. Time has become more precious. You want to fill it with things of true value. Things that are meaningful and enduring. 

If you really think about it, you realise that it is all laid out for you. The process. The sequence of a life. It has been done by all before and will be done by all after. Your perception shifts in an age-appropriate way. In a sense, there is no option. You realise the limits of being. But you also realise the miraculous wonder and grace and beauty of it all. You realise that you are only a tiny player in a massive game. You, in truth, are of little consequence. You will, whether you like it or not, be leaving before too long. It may still be a few decades off but what's a few decades? Weren't you just 35 yesterday?

And time goes faster, too. That you can attest to. Days whiz by. A year isn't long. This has it's benefits, too, though. You know that you can plan things in advance, work towards things and that the future will bring reward if you do. You have seen how things work. You have made the mistakes. And you have learnt.

So, it seems, a life is just that. It is something to experience. A complex, intricate sequence of events that connect together in the form of days lived and things done. All the emotions generated and spent, all the people that have come and gone, the places visited, the experiences lived through. All that. And what? Here you sit writing about it all, and it's as though it was just a story. There is no proof. No one else cares, not really. It has all amounted to nothing - in some ways. And yet - there are feelings of, I don't know, accomplishment, achievement, value, dignity, honour, amusement, bewilderment, satisfaction, acceptance....

It's like... OK. Hmmm... OK. Let's just keep going, then. I kind of get the idea now. I'm past the middle, heading into the third act. I still have some options. I shouldn't waste them (like I have in the past) (as you do). 

I have become someone. I have an identity. A past. I can work with it. There is a level of comfort, familiarity. I know what works and what doesn't. I'm going to gather up what remains available to me, take a clear and honest look at my current position and situation and see what I can do to create something interesting, something of worth. 

Yeah, I'm still here. I'm going to give it a shot. See if I can't surprise myself, outdo myself, extend myself beyond limitations set in the past. If this is me now, who is the me that I am going to be in ten years from now? Who do I want that to be? Pretty sure no one else is going to make it happen. I'm going to step up. Yeah, I'm going to really start living. Not the kind of living you do when you are young and it's all presented to you, tank full and no limits. No, a new kind of living. Decidedly different. A take-control but let-it-go kind of thing. A new awareness. A new care. A new gratitude. And with all that - a new chance to fully discover and perhaps even become one's truest, true self.

​Sounds like a plan.

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Truth in all it's variations

17/8/2015

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As well as self expression, through images and poetry, as well as notations of the artistic experience, I have been utilising this space as a record keeping venue. Somewhere to express my memory of experiences from my past that had impact and meaning to me.

Over the past decade or so, my reading has become almost exclusively autobiographies and memoirs. I just finished Kim Gordon's book, Girl In A Band. I had no idea who she was before picking up the book but it gave off a good vibe. She is a lucid writer and observer and I found it engaging and enriching. I had never heard a Sonic Youth song before, but once I got half way through the tome, I hit You Tube and checked a few of them out. It enriched my reading experience to have done so.

I think an artist's life informs their creativity and creative output. Of course it does. Der. But what I am saying is that it's not only stuff about art and making things that is interesting. The details and situations, the feeling and experiences of a person, not necessarily ostensibly related to creation are, in and of themselves, equally as nourishing and informative as the artistic stuff. 

If you think about it we are actually all living works of art. Works in progress. What we do, what we choose, how we elect to express our personalities through our behaviour and actions are not only intriguing but they also add up to form a picture of a human's being that can broaden the outlook of and inform, inspire the observer in their own lives. 

That's why I like to read memoirs. At the moments I am reading about a mercenary in Afghanistan. I've been reading the true life account of Shirley Maclean's daughter, snippets of Julia Bishop's personal story, the highs and lows of a mountaineer, a drug loving chef from Newtown, photographer Sally Mann's erudite tome...

These are lives vastly different from my own. But what I love is hearing their voices, reading about their choices and the consequences. Understanding their feelings and motivations in important moments. it is comforting to connect. I acknowledge that they have taken the time to open up - some more than others - and to share what is meaningful and cherished to them. 

Some of my favourite memoirs are the more obscure ones. A guy that grew up in orphanages around Queensland, a woman who fell in love with a Columbian coke dealer, a man wrongfully imprisoned in Lebanon, etc, etc. If it rings true and feels real, it has an impact and value for me.

So, that's possibly one of the main reasons I have chosen to share some of my stories in this blog. Because, frankly, also, if I didn't then there are things that no one would ever know. Huge (to me) life experiences that would be just blow away like leaves in the wind. Of course, there are many, many such experiences that will never be revealed - ones that I choose not to share for whatever reasons as well as ones that simply do not come to the forefront of my consciousness when I am in the writing mood. 

If you really think about it, probably 90% of our internal lives - including the stories we make up about our real life experiences and the meaning we give to them - are never to be uncovered, never reach the surface. They make up the smouldering flame of our deepest, truest selves. They give warmth and flavour to our personalities, they mould our characters.

I remember when I was younger, more social, my friends and I would share our stories. Tell of what formed us. Certainly, my closest girlfriends from over the years have heard some of the most poignant, shocking, elucidating true life tales from my childhood till my 50th. After that, I have gone solo. My new girlfriend is my blog. 

Maybe not. There's no cuddling or sex. But my blog has become my confidante. 

Don't I worry about these things being read by people I know, people I don't know? (Which is better/worse? Hmm...)

No, I don't. We are all the same. My story becomes yours and yours becomes mine. There is no shame in being a human. We do what we can. We do what we must. 

And sometimes, some of us get to share the juicy bits. Like a repast. A delicious meal. Served up and ready to devour. The best food comes from real ingredients cooked by a chef with the right intentions. One who wants to share, one who wants to brings joy, knowledge, passion to anyone who cares to listen/read.

And this blog sometimes serves as my humbe kitchen. My life experiences the raw food. My words the oil and spices.

Feast.
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hidden treasures

5/4/2015

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There's a lot of implied pressure and expectations these days from mainstream society to be ambitious, aggressively proactive in pursuit of career and financial success. It has always been present, growing since the eighties, but with the massive increase of numbers of strivers, step-uppers and wanna-be-famousers it has become even more competitive out there in every field. It is a way that many people, in fact, measure their self worth.

The downside of this is that for every winner there are many losers. As well, the make-it-at-any-cost attitude does no favours for the moral integrity of the game players. Egos battle, feelings are disregarded, the non-achievers are scoffed at and relegated to the fringes. The whole game is one that gives massive financial rewards to the top of the pyramid and a pittance to the bottom. Obviously, it is not fair. In fact, it is blatantly unhealthy and unethical. 

There are other options to partaking in this ruthless hunger for gold, however. There are other ways. Better ways. It means first seeing beyond the noxious and infectious fumes of capitalism and materialism. It requires one to see the big picture, ponder on the finer points of existence and choose an alternative that is uniquely suited. The choices are vast, though, in some cases they may require some contemplation, as well as a pinch of courage, a glint of resolve.

It all begins with you. Who are you? What do you believe in? What are your natural instincts, passions?

By listening to yourself, your inner voice and paying it heed, you will start to find your direction. Ignore the calls and shouts of the outside world - family, school, the media - this is a very personal thing and the answers come from within your self.

Whatever you choose to pursue - and you can chop and change as you feel the need - or pursue multiple paths at once - do so with commitment and integrity. If what you are doing makes you happy, feel valuable, feel worthy, feel empowered - then you are on the right path.

I don't know why I have started to sound like a self help book. So, I'll curb it. I guess, though, what I am trying to say is that there are unlimited options - helping your grandmother, kayaking, salsa dancing, sewing, cooking, volunteering, spontaneous travel - and that they exist across a wide spectrum. One needs to not be narrow minded. One needs to question. To seek answers. To acknowledge one's own internal struggle and not look away. Stay with it. Stay with yourself. Invest in yourself.

Oh, no. Self help book lingo returns. Ich! Sorry.

I suppose I am speaking to the young. I am trying to encourage the rewarding journey of self creation. Climbing walls and peeking over. Going too far sometimes. Getting lost. Feeling the pain of existence. 

A lot of the best things in life are not written about in magazines. Or online. They are secret treasures. They are precious and personal. They are yours to seek and discover. There is no map. You need to trust. You need to keep searching - for that thing - that thing! - the whatever it is that only you know.... 

Reality is only limited by your imagination. And your imagination knows no bounds.
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    ART GETS ME HIGH

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    Author & Artist

    Lewie JPD 
    Blog Mission Statement: 

    "I am taking this opportunity to openly and freely express my simple truth in a relaxed, stream of consciousness manner, without self judgment or editing while transcribing and celebrating the process and practice of being an artist.

    My goal is that I will have some fun recording sentiments and thoughts as they come to me, coupled with my recent imagery. As well; to learn something of value and share something that may inspire/offer insight to other artists, creatives and sentient beings."


    Disclaimer: He's high!
    Er, obviously.

    Pass the paint brush!
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