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Didn't End Well

12/6/2016

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I watched a funny little movie called Eddie the Eagle the other night about a kid who dreamt of being in the Olympics and would just not give up. He was rather fearless, bumbling and extremely tenacious - which is, I suppose - a pretty good recipe for making your dreams come true. Not the only one, of course, there are numerous variations such as quite detached, amazingly focused and very lucky. Or somewhat ambitious, overwhelmingly passionate and knows the right people. (Note to self: continue to concoct these combos at a later date instead of eating custard and watching Masterchef.) (Note to self 2: change 'instead of' to 'after'.)

The film quotes Baron de Coubertin’s foundational ethos for his modern Olympics: “The important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win, but to take part; the important thing in life is not triumph, but the struggle.” And, I guess, in many ways I have to agree with the Baron. The struggle is where the fun is. I mean winning is great - and I especially love doing it at poker, for example - but what it is really about is playing the game - and giving it your best shot. There are always elements that you cannot control - ones that will sometimes determine final outcomes. All you can do is turn up and try.

I've had more than a few big projects that I spent many hours and much effort on that lead to nowhere. At the time, when something fails to meet your expectations, it can be rather glum. But after time, in retrospect, it's like; 'fuckit, I learnt a lot and enjoyed the process, nothing I could have done, really, to avoid that.' Shrug and carry on.

A few of my blazing 'failures' spring to mind immediately. They are not hard to forget because each involved at least a year's work - and amounted to essentially nothing - sometimes less than 'no gain'... substantial loss.

In the early nineties I was involved in a TV show pilot for Japan called 'Coo-ee Australia.' It was a zesty, inventive travelogue style show (in Japanese) that presented a number of engaging and interesting events and activities from around Australia. Stuff like - the first big dance parties (RAT parties) held in Sydney, 'Mud Bash' racing in the outback, surfing safaris and interviews with young Aussie creatives. I was the host (which was a lot of fun) but also became equally involved with the producing, directing and editing with the other two partners (who became great mates) Rob Mac and Neil Sloane. We spent close to a year getting the whole thing together - doing deals for free equipment and use of editing facilities along the way on the strength of the show's potential. It was good enough that we had a big launch and press conference before heading off to Tokyo with the finished project in hand to try and land a deal with the Japanese networks. In retrospect, there were two main problems. One: we were creatives and not businessmen. The showings in Tokyo went well and we were buoyed by the response - but locking in a deal was beyond us. I was the only one who spoke Japanese but they had just watched me being goofy and wild on video. We should have had a Japanese business manager/partner. Also, the style of the show was just slightly ahead of it's time - by about two years. It was a little too colourful and loose for it's time. Eventually, the format we used became mainstream - but not at that time. It was too much of a leap of faith for the execs.

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Later, mid-nineties - I had a big solo show at a new gallery in Bondi, just off hall street. The owner was a Canadian guy I had known from around Bondi for many years and when he invited me to show, I was thrilled. I had a year's work ready to go, made up of twenty four or so large and medium canvases. I was working out my studio in Brighton Blvd (next to the old Brown Sugar) and it was my best work to date. Hanging went well, leading up to the opening night. The only problem was that I met his brother - and business partner - and got a bad vibe from the guy. He just felt wrong. My lovely girlfriend at the time, over coffee, also got a precautionary feeling and suggested I not have a show there. But what could go wrong?, I thought. It doesn't matter. I'll have my show, sell some works, get paid my share (70%) and get out. 

The opening night was a success and great fun. Six or seven pieces sold. And over the next few weeks a couple more. The work was taken down while I was away on a shoot somewhere to make room for the next show. I apologised for not being there (it hadn't been a set date), but the owner assured me it was no problem and they would store the works out the back, ready for me to pick up on my return. 

Then I got the call.

There had been a fire. Almost all my paintings had been damaged or destroyed. They were sorry. It was a big accident. But, no fear. They had full insurance.

It was pretty depressing, going to collect the remnants. What was left was charred and soggy. Not a single piece was salvaged. Apparently they had been stored near the kitchen up the back and somehow...

Anyway, the whole affair with the insurance dragged on for months and months. Visits, letters, phone calls. They were saying that the insurance company was stalling. After a while, something seemed very wrong. I went there to confront them. Turned out they had got the money (of which 70% was mine) - and spent it all! There was almost a punch up. The lies and the cover up had been piling up for months. The dirty weasels offered to pay me back some paltry weekly amount until I got back what I was owed - close to 20K. It was outrageous and insulting. They said they were bankrupt. I was gobsmacked. Before long, the gallery disappeared, as did they. I never saw a cent.

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In 2001, I published my first book, a collection of humourous writings, poems, haiku and short stories called 'All I've Ever Wanted Is What I Know I Can Never Have'. I was very happy with it and it sold quite well. So, pretty much straight away, I commenced work on the next one, tentatively called Karma-Rama. I moved up from Bondi to live in Byron and worked on it every day for a year and a half. Eventually, I was happy with the finished project; 250 pages - ready to go - input into Quark - print ready. The only problem was I didn't have the funds at the time to do a print run. So, I waited. Six months later my Mac (one of those colourful bulging ones) died. I lost everything. No back up. Oops.

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Cut to six years later. I was doing my radio show at Bay FM, 99.9 in Byron Bay. We were broadcasting out of what was basically a shed, by the side of the railway tracks on Butler Street. There was a wonderful camaraderie there, amongst the broadcasters, DJs and volunteers. I loved it. Hearing that the station would soon be moving to a much more modern and luxurious location in the new Community Centre, I decided to capture the new and the old, the transition and the amazing spirit of the place. Somewhere along the line, I met a cool dude from Austria, who had just graduated from SAE, as a director/producer. He and a partner had a small, local production company with all the equipment. I proposed my idea to him and we agreed that for 40% share of the project he would give me full access to the filming equip, plus the editing facility and a cameraman and editor (same guy) for the duration of the project. We shook hands.

We filmed a few days a week for about 6 months. Then we began editing - with more shoot days in between. Eight months into the project, the Austrian guy had to return home to Europe. While he was gone, the other partner turned up at the editing space and checked out what we were doing. He was very impressed and positive, liked what we were doing. Three months later (of shooting and editing four days a week) we had a rough cut. It was to be called Bliss Jockeys. Through a contact in Sydney, I arranged a copy to be sent to SBS. They said it showed promise and expressed initial interest. Around this time, the other partner, a South American guy, showed up and said he wanted to have a meeting. No probs.

He said that he wasn't happy with the 40% and felt that his company should be getting 50%. I wasn't thrilled with this ( a deal is a deal) but after contemplation, agreed that as long as the cameraman/editor (who was working for just a tiny retainer and had been wonderful to work with) got 25%, that I would be OK with it. All good. A few weeks later, the South American guy came back and said that he wanted 60% total. Oh, and also, that he wanted his name - not just in the credits but as top billing - as in 'A film by ....' (him!)

WTF. Right? He had had no involvement in the project whatsoever. He was working on things of his own - but nothing of any merit. Once he sniffed the possibility of being broadcast and some money (probably only a modest amount) - he became bossy, demanding and controlling. He said with the Austrian overseas, it was all up to him. 

We could not come to an agreement. I suggested we call in an outside mediator. There was a big serious meeting. I just wanted to keep moving, so I finally agreed to accepting 40%. But I would not accept this guy getting top billing. It did not feel right. Tension. Finally, OK, OK, he said. End of meeting. 

The next Monday, I got a call from the editor. The guy had come into the editing suite, removed all the equipment and taken all the tapes back to his place in Coffs Harbour. Weeks were wasted trying to get it all back. No go. It was one of the rare times I have actually considered going to find someone and causing them physical discomfort with direct connection between my fists and their face. The man was a lowly, dishonourable pig.

End of project. One year: wasted.

Eventually, I discovered by chance, all the Byron Bay based, non specific footage (aerial shots, underwater shots, shots of a mermaid, surfer shots, scenery shots, etc - that we had compiled and creatively composited) on this guy's You Tube page - claiming it all as his own. He got lots of hits and nice comments. Luckily for him, I never saw him again.

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So, back to Eddie and the original Baron quote. In these cases, at least - plenty of struggle, very little triumph. 

What do I take from it all? Am I still angry? Nah. I just kept going. What can you do? I wasn't going to waste time with the judicial system. It would have only made things worse. I felt a simmering rage at the injustice for a few weeks/months after the gallery/video projects but then just dropped it and moved on. I am lucky; I always have a new creative project to focus on. And it's what I love to do. Make stuff. Make shit up. I love the process. Sure, a rewarding outcome is desirable (and has been gifted many time), but in the end, I wouldn't swap the joy of making, being creative for all the money in the world. 



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The Factory is Open

1/12/2015

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Sometimes I start to write an entry and I just can't.

Maybe I will know my topic and find it too challenging to get into it, or maybe I will not know exactly what I am intending to say and things will not gel.

Sometimes I even begin an entry and then stop halfway, either due to lack of direction, lack of conviction or lack of motivation. 

These things do not happen often. But they happen. 

As one who questions things, I have to ask myself, 'why am I writing this?' And, if the answer is not satisfactory, I will cease. I don't like wasting time. Not mine, nor yours.

And when I say yours, when I refer to you, I, of course, do not even know who you are. I will know some of my readers personally, for sure, but others not. I also do not know who reads any given essay, even amongst those who I know sometimes pop in for a gander.

But it doesn't matter. Because I am actually, really, talking to myself. I am talking to an element of myself that wants to understand how I think, how my mind works, how I put the world together, take it apart. 

I am curious about every element of existence. Strike that. I am curious about the things that I am curious about. There is plenty of stuff that doesn't interest me.

I have strived for more than forty years to gather as much information and life experience as I can, at every opportunity, through interacting with people of all sorts, through travel, through absorbing books and music and art and films. I dive in deep when I am into things. 

In the late seventies and early eighties, movies were my passion. I made an effort to see as many as possible. I would go to revival theatres and watch double bills - movies like Performance, El Topo, Dog Day Afternoon, Midnight Cowboy.... Films by European masters like Truffaut, Bergman, Fellini... Japanese greats; Kurosawa, Ozu, Imamura... plus Kubrick, Altman, Lindsay Anderson...etc, etc - I just wanted to soak it all up. 

I was studying. I also did the same with books. Less the classics - more the contemporaries. And music - I recorded onto cassette thousands and thousands of hours of stuff. Art, too, of course; I could not get enough.

And my point? I realised today that I have been loading up big time for a long time. I have been a perpetual student of the arts for decades and decades. It's all self study, a vary loosely structure curriculum. ie. find what ignites my interest and get right into it. Go deeper and deeper. When it gets boring - move onto the next thing.

So what is to become of all this knowledge? Am I full yet?

No, of course not. I continue to stock up. But, what is becoming apparent now is a growing urge, need, to use what I have learnt to make some good things, some lasting things, some inspirational things. Stuff that will fire up the young meez of the future.

Naturally, as well as absorbing over all this time, I have been consistent with my output as well. But I believe I am yet to really reach my pinnacle. I am yet to bring it all together into something wonderful. But now, the time has come. I am getting nearer and nearer. I can feel it. My output - of paintings, of comics, of ideas and of writing has increased considerably. Things are taking form more easily. Purpose is becoming more apparent. 

Cause, seriously, let's face it - at 54 - I can't wait around too much longer. I've got to go for it. And I think I am ready. I am ready. 

I cannot say yet, right here, exactly what form it will take - because I am not precisely sure - but I do know the roads are converging. I am tuning in more accurately. I have created - through data input over my creative lifespan to date - a massive repository of all kinds of artistic and expressive notions and techniques and sensibilities. I have stockpiled, in fact. The warehouse is full. The factory is oiled and ready. Production has begun. Even I know not what will appear out the other end - but I do know something - it's going to be absolutely wonderful.
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On Photography

24/9/2015

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When I started at the National Art School all those lifetimes ago, first year was about trying a bit of everything before picking a major. We did drawing, sculpture, printmaking, photography and painting. They were all fantastic and I was so happy to be making art every day - whatever the format. It was such a refreshing and invigorating change from university (I had tried two - Sophia University in Tokyo and Sydney Uni) which to me seemed to be more about following and towing the line than expanding one's own thinking or awareness. In contrast, art school was all about self expression, experimentation, freedom and passion. 

When the time came to pick a subject to specialise in, I chose photography. Ever since my very first experience in the dark room, I was captivated. The process was mystical and magical. Go out, grab an instant in reality on film, process the negative (winding those spools in the dark! Oh, my!), then make a contact sheet (it was all B&W in those days), choose your favourites, then enter the red lit, moody, moist and fume filled dark room to play with the enlarger, the light sensitive paper and the chemicals to expose and develop an image. It was all so ethereal.

You could never be sure what you were going to get. It was taking a slice of life and transforming into a piece of art. It was based on reality but leaned towards interpretation, expression, personal vision. The challenge was to surprise yourself. Seek, seek, find, capture, push, push, process, manipulate and create a reflection of yourself in the form of captured light on paper. Blacks and whites and all the shades of grey. Fifty, one hundred, a thousand. Mood, mood, mood.

Armed with camera and lens, a few spare film rolls in their canisters, I would venture out in search of potential magic. It taught me to see. More closely, more broadly, to notice the light and the shadows, the lines, composition. How to frame an image. Whether to go wide or zoom in. The options were endless and the experimentation endless. Action shots, water shots, still lifes, portraits, night shoots.... I loved it all. 

It was about discovering the artist inside you - starting with how you look at things. How you learn to see beyond the obvious, to celebrate the delightful nuances of the seemingly mundane, to notice the games light plays - to chase it and capture whatever you can.

It was a great way to train. It was about self application, about expansion of vision, about appreciation of subtlety and boldness and the shades in between. Our class was lucky, we had a teacher who was just back from studying in New York. A passionate, devoted, inspired photographer named Arthur Georgeson who was relentless in pushing us to push ourselves and our imagery. He taught us much. He shared his love for hand colouring and a couple of us really, really got into it. Taking the pictures even further from the original. We also manipulated Polaroids, SX-70s, and drew and scratched and collaged our photos. It was a splendid year.

When I found out that for the photographic majors, it ended at year two, I begged the head of school to let me continue on into year three, to swerve into the painting major. I was in love with creating images, I was just beginning, I was ready now to tackle the challenges of canvas and paint. I knew where I was coming from. I had things to say. Let me, let me! I pleaded. None had ever asked before. Certainly not with such verve. He shrugged. There is a space...Tony dropped out... Tick, tick, tick.... OK!

Painting was just as thrilling and my foundation in still images gave me confidence and a slightly different edge amongst the other painting majors - many of whom I knew from first year. They welcomed me. There wasn't much structure to it anyway. No classes per say. We each got a studio space; a bit of wall and some panels. And we came in five days a week and worked, worked, worked. But it was fun, fun, fun. Just as it should be.
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The Collector

29/10/2014

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I have always loved collecting things. 

When I was eight and we lived near the bush, it was special rocks and twigs. And tadpoles. And marbles.

At ten and eleven, when we lived in Tokyo, my brothers and I would go to a tiny but amazing model shop near Roppongi. The owner was an amazing model maker and always had awe inspiring scenes set up in his window. Inside was stacked to the roof with a comprehensive selection of plastic model kits. We used to buy and make aeroplanes (Spitfire was a fave, and the Stuka with its bent wings), tanks, and less often, a battleship or a destroyer. I was never that keen on the toxic smelling and hard-to-get-off-fingers adhesive that came in a tiny silver tube but I would diligently assemble a small army collection. What I loved most was painting them and putting on the decals - which needed pre-soaking a shallow dish of water and very delicate and precise handling.

Around thirteen I discovered the splendid and rewarding joy of reading books. New paperbacks (in English) were prohibitively expensive but I soon discovered a shelf or two of English language paperbacks in some local Tokyo bookshops. Again, the shops were narrow and tiny and crammed with merchandise. My area of interest and focus were up the front on the right of the Hiroo shop, down the road from our house. Just two or three shelves worth, each less than a metre wide. I would visit often and study every new book, considering it's value and possible reward. I really disliked buying a book if I wasn't going to read it, so I selected carefully, often reading the first twenty or so pages while standing there, sometimes for an hour or more before choosing. Luckily, in Japan, tachiyomi (literally standing/reading) is common and not discouraged by shop owners whatsoever. I would get out my fifty or a hundred yen and pay for my new treasure. The library at school was OK when I was younger with things like the Hardy Boys series (much loved!) but had nothing that would fast track the development and maturing of a hungry and curious teen. A few authors that spring to mind are Alistair MacLean, Roald Dahl and John Fowles. I would also read some slightly raunchy and macabre B grade novels - about witches, fighters and promiscuous experimenters. I was well known for carrying a paperback everywhere in the side pocket of our school blazer. Two other kids, Zac Callahan and Chris Styles, also started doing this and we would often check out what each other was reading and talk stories. Most of the other kids in the class associated reading with school work and shunned it. For us it was a doorway to new and exciting worlds. I'll always remember the feeling of finding a really good new book in the shelves. And the joy of reading one - wanting it to never finish. The Magus by John Fowles was an especially thick one and satisfyingly lasted for quite a while. I considered it a masterwork of the imagination. He also wrote a book called The Collector.

Part of the satisfaction of collecting is the thrill of knowing your subject, area of interest well and becoming familiar with all the popular and semi-popular items within it's realm. Then what happens is every time you go out seeking additions it becomes increasingly harder to find something new and worthwhile. You either have everything good or at least know about it and don't need to acquire it for reasons of taste or space. When you collect you are honing your knowledge and developing a personal taste and quiet opinions about the things within the microcosm of your passion. It's a very healthy and nourishing thing to do. I learnt a lot about art and developed my taste through collecting comics and album covers. I never bought new ones of either of these groups, preferring the chance and thrill of second hand hunting expeditions.

Other things I have collected over the years: movie posters, magazines (especially early Esquires and National Lampoons), film scripts (ordered by post from LA), poker card protectors, hippy necklaces, stickers, caps, skulls and bottle tops.


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Shibuya

24/9/2014

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I lived, till the age of ten, in the bush, in a house my Dad helped build, on the edge of a National Park, in Wahroonga, Sydney, at the time one of the most outer suburbs of Sydney.  I went to the public school called The Bush School. I played up trees, under waterfalls, up and down cliffs, down tracks, by rivers. Basically surrounded by and immersed in nature.

When I was ten, the family moved to Tokyo, Japan. It was the complete other end of the spectrum. A sprawling, seemingly limitless city, brimming with buildings, packed with people. Electric, dynamic, pulsating. Criss-crossed by a massive, super efficient train and subway system full of an industrious, busy, kind and benevolent culture that was, in some ways, the polar opposite to my own, I found myself in a new playground of a new paradigm.

I'd always liked exploring, with my brothers, out in the bush. We would go for long walks, adventures, just the three of us, or with our mates from down the street. We would peg rocks, catch lizards and tadpoles, climb gum trees, leap over gaps in rock formations. Tokyo offered a whole new kind of exploration. We would cover ground on foot, by bus, by subway, on our bikes and on our skateboards. Then, later, by motorbike.

In the early years, Shibuya, Tokyo's zesty and youthful hub for fashion and entertainment, was where we would go to watch movies, play in game centres, have a cheap meal and peruse shops with the latest toys and gadgets. From our home in Nishi-Azabu, we could be there in half an hour. It was our favoured destination. It had a friendliness to it, an interestingness, an inviting accessibility. 

There was a wide variety of cinemas to choose from flash and modern to el cheapo dingy. The Shibuya Bunka Kaikan alone, housed four. As well, it had a rooftop game centre, a great bookshop, a supermarket for movie snacks (chocolate covered wheat puffs, coffee milk, dried squid and big fat, puffy twistie like cheese slugs called Karl - were the favourites) and a poster shop. Movies in Japan are always screened in original language with subtitles - a godsend for visiting westerners as all TV was in Japanese language. My brothers and I for many years watched one or two movies on a Saturday, then another with the P's on a Sunday arvo. There is no rating system (G,PG,M,R) whatsoever, so we had unrestricted choice. Watching Taxi Driver at thirteen was an eye opener, almost mind expansive. The same for The Exorcist, the Godfather, Lolly Madonna War and The Wild Bunch.

We loved playing pinball and video games and would spend countless hours at Game Centres. It wasn't till half way through our time there that video games were even invented. I vividly recall my first game of Atari's ping pong - a vertical line on either side with a bouncing ball between them. Green screen, ball accelerating incrementally with each return hit. Then of course, there was Space Invaders, Mission Control and Pac Man. Car racing, shooting games, Galaga. Still, we had an ongoing respect for pinball mastery and would alternate between format offerings.

Japanese people are very thoughtful and especially kind to children. At no time were we ever in any danger or did we come across any difficulty. We were all fluent in the language and humble and respectful in return to the people of our host nation. We always made friends with the twenty-something part-time workers in the game centres, joking around, and would often be rewarded with free games and tokens. It was an idyllic existence for three young Aussie bush kids. From Wahroonga to Shibuya - we were transported from the grounded dirt and big sky free style playground to the electrified, connected, built up, efficient, magnificent wonderland of the East.


                     --------------------------------

PHOTO: Shot by Naoki Leonard Fujita - a friend and maverick photographer and cameraman- who lives in Shibuya. See some of his amazing work here: https://leonardfujita.wix.com/imagemaker
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all the things I've never done

3/5/2014

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I was thinking the other day, while walking on the beach about just how many projects there are that I have conceived or started but not finished. There are so many! Ideas come to me fast and thick and are never ending. The ones that come to full fruition are only the tip of the iceberg. One in a hundred or less.

There are multiple reasons for this. Timing, circumstance, attitude... Even if I was a hyper achiever, I'd still probably only be able to execute 5% of what I cook up. Sometimes I justify not doing more by telling myself that it's just the kind of person I am, my destiny; to enjoy thinking things up - and then letting them go. I do very much find satisfaction in the conceptual part of a new project. It's all so potentially perfect, so grand, so unrestricted. Often, I will have an idea for a book/movie/creative project that I will see appear in the public realm five, ten years later. I'm sure this is not uncommon.

On the other end of the spectrum, many times I have attempted to make things happen, to manifest ideas - and reality has just not cooperated. For example, in the late nineties, after studying screenwriting at UCLA, I spent two years full time writing screenplays. I completed a total of six feature films - one for young teens, a chick flick, a feel-good indie, a fantasy film, a comedy and a coming-of-age action/drama. After they were done I spent a year trying to get interest/sell/get funding for them. I concentrated mainly on the last one - which I think is the best and has the most commercial potential. I am not, however, a great sales person by any stretch, and nothing came from any of it. They sit in a box in storage. It was disheartening, I cannot deny, and yet, I did still get great pleasure in the act of writing them. Of course, I have continued with my writing and had subsequent success with radio plays/ comedic monologues and short films. But screenplay number seven is yet to be.

I have also written full outlines for a three character one-man-show and a grand scale musical over the last few years, but they, too, remain concepts - unreleased, not invested in, scribbles in a notebook. 

Sometimes, I do the work to manifest something and it is blocked at the last stage of realisation or snatched from my hands. A documentary about Bay FM radio station, Bliss Jockeys, that I wrote and directed was snatched from my hands by a megalomaniacal/paranoid producer at the very final stages because of ownership disputes. After a deal with SBS fell through, he ran off with the tapes and chopped them into segments, put them up on his YouTube channel as his own. That was a full years work. 

In 2002, after self publishing my first book, 'All I've Ever Wanted Is What I Know I Can Never Have', and getting satisfaction and encouraging feedback from it, I embarked upon a follow up, 'Karma Rama'. I spent the next 18 months working on it. Once completed, I fully designed the front and back covers, and got it print-ready in Quark. While I was busy trying to scrape together some money for a first run, my computer died. Salvaging it from the hard drive would have cost more than I had at the time. The book never happened.

All sounds a bit sad, in a way. But it isn't necessarily. For me the best part of a project is in the thinking up and the creation. What happens with things after that is a bit boring. Of course, it is wasted effort and disappointing when they get so close to fruition, but I am so quickly onto the next thing that I soon forget.

As an evolving creative entity, my lessons and greatest joys are in the actual doing of things, the initial spark, the first rendering, the birth of ideas. From nothing to something. What kind of somethings they become and whether or not they solidify a place of any distinction in the world is not where I put my attention.

My journals are full of things that could have been. Books, movies, exhibitions, shows. It's not too late. Some may still find there way back into the process. Who knows. But most of them are just part of a wild and zesty creative machine gun process. Benign bullets billowing in the air. With a charged-up and staccato-laughing genius/madman alone on the beach with his never-ending supply of artistic ammo, filling the horizon with new thoughts and concepts that take shape and form for a time, then, like the clouds, drift off into the ether, the endless blue.

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input/output

27/12/2013

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I was lying on my mattress the other night watching a open-hand-size huntsman repeatedly navigate the upper levels of the four walls of my room. He's been around for a week or so now and we've decided on a mutually beneficial 'no provoke', silent, arachnoid/gentlemen's agreement. Still when he saunted up to the roof and crossed over into a space hovering directly above my head, I decided it would be wise to move temporarily to a different spot.

Lying there, I suddenly remembered that I used to read and collect National Lampoon humour magazines in the mid seventies. I used to really enjoy reading them. I don't know what happened to my collection - lost in transit, I suppose. I've lived in and moved out of thirty or forty abodes since then. I now live in a rented room with my computer, an open suitcase and a mattress. Streamlined, you could call it.

Since my teens, I have always been a high input person. Books, comics, magazines, movies, TV series, the net... I like to absorb - concepts, words, visuals, stories. I always try to find stuff that is quality. Stimulating. As a teen it was paperbacks found in the second hand store in Hiroo, Tokyo, by writers like John Fowles, Alister Mclean and James Clavell. Comic titles like 'Challengers of the Unkown', 'Sgt Rock' and 'Swamp Thing'. Then there were mags - National Lampoon, Reader's Digest, Time, Esquire, Details. Mixed in with all this was Japanese game shows, comedies and kickboxing shows.

Around 18, I discovered with great delight the art film, late night double feature cinemas and saw groundbreakers - and lifechangers - like El Topo, Eraserhead, Performance, Clockwork Orange and Nashville.

I also have always loved, sitting and watching people. From Shibuya station in the early days, to nights on the streets in Kings Cross in my twenties (observer, not hooker) to walking through neighbourhoods in the US, South America and South East Asia in my travels. To this day, I spend hours at a time in libraries, wherever I am, several times a week: absorbing. I also love their serenity and solemness.

Point is, it's little wonder my visual art output is voluminous. (3,000 plus artworks in the last 22 months).  A lot goes in. A lot comes out. It needs to. I really enjoy making pictures. From nothing to something. A simple magic. Soul soothing.


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got me some good ideas

28/8/2013

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I've always had a very busy mind. Sometimes too busy. I try to quieten it with activities, distractions, exercise and sleep with varying degrees of success. Of course, making art is a great queller.

When I was younger, I would very easily be distracted by women. What a glorious distraction they are! I was able to keep myself busy running around chasing them, trying to escape them and making whoopee with them in all it's wonderful varieties, sexual and otherwise.

These days I have quietened down somewhat. I'm not a young buck anymore and although the interest from my side has only waned to a degree the interest from the fairer sex has diminished substantially. A woman in her thirties is going to want a man in his thirties. Same for forties - it's only natural. Guys who are fifty plus can still be of interest but they need money, status or power. Personality alone will not get you across the line like it did decades ago.

I have accepted this truth and focus my energy on generally enjoying life, nature, relationships without the constant sex drive. In some ways it's a relief. My mind, too, has quietened down to a manageable level. I remember in my 20's and 30's it was at times like a wild horse. I was worried. I got did anxiety management courses, saw counsellors, did therapy, yoga. It all helped. There were some times I doubted I would get this far. 

Now that I am here I feel happy to have survived. I've seen and done plenty. Now it's time to concentrate on creative output. I have been an artist, writer and performer for over thirty years. It's who I am. I embrace it fully now and seek to use the wisdom and experience to create work that will exhilarate and delight. I want to reach my potential as a creator, fulfill my ambitions as an artist. Make the sort of stuff that I always dreamed of seeing - on a wall, in the cinema and in books and comics. 

The apprentice
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face to face to face

7/8/2013

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Just put together this compilation of portaits I've done over the last 8 months. I have always liked drawing/painting faces of different kinds. Started way back when I was 14 - copying them out of Newsweek and DC comic books. They are one of the most energy-centric, vibe-radiating subject matters that exist. Every head is a world. And that's just the outside. Imagine the inside!
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one step atta time

5/8/2013

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I remember the exact moment it started. My brother, Mook, showed me two photos of himself - one in a giant field of flowers somewhere in South Australia and the other abseiling down a cave hole. Both were taken while he was working as a production manager on a Japanese ad. At the time he was working in Tokyo for a local production co. I was working as a freelance illustrator, just back from a year and a half in Tokyo. The pictures stirred my hunger for adventure. You get paid to do that? I asked. Any chance I can come along and help out next time?It was the beginning of a decade of awesome experiences together. All across Australia and NZ. Got to captain a snow mobile in a blizzard rescue, reverse bungy jump, visit Whaling towns, sleep underground in Cooper Peedy, chase the Indian Pacific overland from Sydney to Perth... I consider myself very lucky. Met and befriended some awesome people, too. And all from a little tingly feeling, an intuition when I saw those pictures. I knew I should join in. One step. Just ask. You may well receive.
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pay to see

15/7/2013

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Whatever wisdom you get in life, you pay for it. We make choices, we make mistakes, we learn. We grow wiser and move on. Whatever you circumstances are, it's the same for everyone. Life is a series of struggles and triumphs, big and small (and size is relative and subjective). 

I was playing poker at Harbord last night across the table from a group of 20 year olds. It was fun. They were full of beans, joking around, almost jittery. Like pups. And there I sat, an ex-twenty year old. One who has travelled long and far and seen and done many things they are yet to know. I really felt it last night for some reason. The boys were polite and reverential and not bad players. It was a prolonged final table, with two of them versus me at the end. I kept steady and watchful, used my experience to guide me to victory. It was satisfying and felt fitting. The real joy I got was not in winning, though, it was in the interaction. The poker table is a great place for character to be revealed. 

I re-watched Mel Gibson's 'Apocalypto' the other night for the third time. I do believe it is a masterpiece of sorts. It's a dynamic, thrilling film about the eventual demise of the Mayan tribes in the rain forests. Made me think about tribal living, the basics of family, community, friendship, honour. How fragmented we are in this modern society. No big campfires with elders espousing their wisdom, no man vs nature trials of initiation, etc. Of course, there are plenty of great things about living in this present civilisation, but when watching this film, one can't help but to long for deeper, truer connections with nature and fellow beings.

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inlook outlook

5/7/2013

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Was thinking the other day about movies and about how they are all so full of action and violence and generally mindless behaviour. Made up people parading around acting most un-humanlike. 

They started out being like this as a brief escape but they have become such a massive and influential part of the culture and have continued along a misguided trajectory for so long that it is accepted as normal.

What we could be watching is films that actually explore the unlimited potential of wonderful sentient beings. Films that make us feel awe and wonder and joy in our very being. Films that celebrate love and compassion, kindness, service. That still have drama and drive but do not include graphic images of people hurting and killing each other. 

Movies that celebrate peace and ingenuity, braveness, exploration, grace and creativity. We need more movies like this, ones that will ELEVATE humanity. Assist in our spiritual evolution. In some ways, despite all the advances, we still live in very dark ages. Things are changing for the better, slowly, slowly but I think it is good to take a good look at the way things are and what can be changed to shift the outlook. Our time here is precious. We are precious. We need to acknowledge this truth and celebrated it appropriately. 

Clean our bodies, clean our minds, liberate our spirits. Focus on what is good and admirable, what is worthy of our true attention. A shift in the paradigm is coming - let's help it along  however and whenever we can.
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magicalmadness

15/6/2013

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There's freedom in wackiness. Art, theatre, writing, dance, music - all forms of release. We get to portray the selves within oursleves, the selves from beyond our selves - we reveal and release the spirits that possess magic and mayhem into reality so that they can have identities and become intergrated into our realities and be discovered, enjoyed and acquired by everyone. 


Superheroes, legends of stage and screen, cartoon characters - all conjured up at one stage from an artist's crazy inspiration. And dance - what is it if not a glorious exorcism? Music bubbles in and from our subconscious. Literature offers complete new worlds to inhabit.


Just think about how much of our lives are involved with these fantastic other worlds. We love to escape. We love to play and make believe. It unites us, liberates us. It is the delicious, tasty, nourishing sauce that covers the main meal of life. 


What is important, and to be encouraged, is our individual creations. Self discovery is boosted through expression in these forms. Don't just be an art consumer - make your own. Write your own truth. Dance and sing to the unique tunes that play inside your head. Let it out, let it all out. The more zany, joyous, cacaphonic self expression there is on the planet the better. 


Make art not war. 
Forget greed, do the jig. 
Write your truth. 
Let your fantasy flourish. 


When the unreal becomes real it's really unreal!

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all starts with a scribble

21/5/2013

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Picture
Freshly published interview from the scribble town blog. 
(Click image to visit the site and view full artictle.)
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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!
    *no drugs required

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