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Creating Is Just the First Step

30/9/2019

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I realised the other day that as part of my creative endeavours, a lot of time is spent in processes. Sequential activities that in themselves do not require much inventiveness but are necessary to get the job done.

With my current book, for example, a reflection on growing up in Tokyo in the seventies, I was able to complete the first draft relatively steadily and smoothly, writing a an hour or two a day. I finished the first draft in five months. The writing flowed. I let it.

I wasn’t trying to impress anybody, do anything too challenging. I would just write whatever came naturally - thoughts, feelings, memories. It felt good not to pressure myself and I think that the easy, honest approach is reflected in the finished manuscript.

Once the first draft was done, the processes began. In order to print it out at the library at college, I had to save each chapter on my iPad to a PDF and then email it to my school account. Once I had sent off all eighty emails, I went into the library. There, they had to be opened, downloaded, printed, numbered and collated. A process.

Red pen next. Corrections on paper. Then re-inputting, with the amendments and improvements into the computer. Which then needed to be individually copied and pasted from eighty seperate chapters into four documents of twenty - to make it easier to eventually input it into inDesign - the software that will format it for professional printing in book form.

And on it goes. You get the idea.

In some ways the actual ‘creation’ part is easy!

Once the cover is conceived and designed and the book has been proof printed and corrected a few times, I will do a small digital run of a couple of hundred.

Then I will begin the process of attempting to find a publisher in Japan. A huge process itself, I am sure.


Does it sound like I am whinging? I’m not. I am lucky to be doing something I believe in. To be able to make efforts to manifest projects of my own devising. Things sparked from passion and inspiration, things that are personally relevant and meaningful.

I suppose I am more commenting on the awareness of how much time and focus is necessary to realise various projects - books, exhibitions, music releases.

It’s (almost) work!

The fun and games part - the experimentation, the invention, the playful creation is only the beginning of an extended journey towards completion.

It’s the same thing with my music. Getting a track down in it’s raw form - weaving all the sound strands in and out harmonically, throwing in splashes of accents, controlling and releasing the beat - can be euphoria inducing. But once it is all put together, each sound in it’s place the job is only sixty percent done. Editing, refinement, equalising, mixing and mastering. Processes that must be attended to with equal focus and diligence.

All this I-doting and T-crossing has it’s own feeling of accomplishment and reward, too. It requires more discipline, sure, but their is a payoff in satisfaction. Not only have you done justice to your initial creative impulses and creation, but you have pushed through the demands and met the requirements of the task before you. ​
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Aspects of Self Expression

26/6/2019

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Through my writing, I investigate the inner workings of my thoughts and feelings, using words to steer towards discovery, understanding and a degree of enlightenment. ​

I can site down with nothing particular in mind and let the words flow - in the form of a poem, a short story or a short essay, such as this, to reveal what they will. Leapfrogging from thought to thought at times. Sometimes more like sitting on the bank of a gently running stream and observing leaves float past, recording each ones peculiarity as they pass.

I do much of my writing when I land at the cafe, after an hour at the beach where I stretch, walk and swim. So I am invigorated, at ease. The cafe is right nearby and outdoorsy. I have come to get to know most of the staff, who are a particularly good spirited bunch. This adds to my feeling of comfort and belonging - which in turn invites free flowing writing.

My other form of self expression, the most recent addition, is music. I have been attending a creative college called SAE studying music production for the last few years now. The campus is delightfully low key and has wonderful facilities. Each day I have access to any of six studios, in two hour slots, in which I can hide away and focus on my song creation. I use a Berlin based software called Ableton Live, considered to be the best in the world, to craft my tunes. Ableton has a steep learning curve and although I was making sounds pretty quickly, it wasn’t until after two and a half years of study and practice that I felt confident enough with my creations to begin releasing songs. I spend six hours, six days a week in the studios experimenting with new sound combinations and structures; basically, playing around having the time of my life. I say that, but at times it is challenging and takes dedication and commitment to see a project through - especially because sometimes they go awry - like a pack of wild horses - and have to be corralled into some level of obedience.

The third way that I express myself is through my artwork. I first attended art school in Sydney a full forty years ago and I have no stopped making images, in some form or other since then. I have had studios, on my own and shared, over the years working on big canvases and have had twenty five solo exhibitions of my work over the decades. These days, almost all my work is digital. I use an incredibly versatile app called Autodesk Sketchbook on my Samsung Note 8, using a tiny stylus on the screen to create, using collage, an array of textures and brushes as well as Photoshop style adjustable layers (average around fifteen per image lately) to create new images. I spend one to two hours every day on these pictures; usually three new ones per day.
It is fun and relaxing; an exploration of colour, shape and image manipulation. I earnestly seek out fresh thrills - exciting juxtapositions and dynamics. It’s an exercise in free experimentation and thoughtful positioning and ordering of levels. I explore mood and atmosphere. I strive to innovate and create visual excitement. Again; it’s play.

Spending time every day involved in all of these forms - usually eight to ten hours - gives me purpose and fulfilment. Although I have at times made money in each of these areas, I would not call any of it lucrative. My motivation is pure. I just love the act of creation. Writing this now, I realise how lucky I am to be able to exist in this manner.

You could say that I am expressing myself, and in a sense I am, but mostly I just feel like a conduit, allowing the creativity to pass through me - onto the page, into the picture or into sonic wave formations. One can detect ‘my style’ in each of the forms but it is not something that I am consciously aware of.

When I review my work, I can learn a little about my internal workings, but it is not really something I do or am that interested in. I am just happy to be able to get busy with the next project. Like now. I will finish this and immediately embark on some fresh image making. Then I will head into SAE and into the studios to work on some new songs (I usually have two or three going concurrently). What a life, eh!

Simple, serene, expressive.
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Effortless Effect

13/4/2019

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Is coming to terms with one's insignificance a good thing or a bad thing?

Not sure. But it certainly frees up a lot of time. 

Regardless of the ultimate futility of it all, I have been voraciously spending six hours a day in the studio working on new tracks. 

Nourishment, it appears, comes from creative expression - same as always - but now add the tasty sauce of productivity satisfaction and you've got yourself some chewable results.

Not one to neglect my art, I spend a minimum hour a day on making new images. And the same goes for my writing: minimum hour a day.

I can almost feel death coming. Not yet. But I am aware of it's eventuality more profoundly than previous. 

It's what we are all racing towards.

I ask myself - am I doing all this stuff to leave a mark? No.

Why then? Cause it is rewarding, feels good. It's how I relate to life. Like all creators; I am compelled.

Fills in the time. Masks the pain. Distracts from the struggle. 

Creating new stuff, for me, is fun because there are no rules and I can be loose and try new things and not worry about outcomes or opinions. It's a relationship with an open minded giver.

It builds internal layers, adds pieces to the puzzle, lubricates thought; centres you.

Discipline is adopted willingly. That's something special right there. 

You can do whatever you want. Putting effort into effortlessness. It's an art. 
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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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Up, Up and Away

25/8/2018

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​Used to be a time when, if I was waiting for a plane to depart, I’d grab a coffee, pull out my iPad and immediately start writing a poem. I am at an airport now, Gold Coast, heading to Sydney and I am writing - but I am writing about how when I used to do be in this situation I would immediately, habitually start expressing myself lyrically. I am writing, in a self observational way, about how I have observed in myself a different energy and behaviour to usual.

How? What’s different? (A chorus of other in the Departure Lounge spontaneously chimes.)

To be honest, I think that for the moment at least, it appears my romanticism, my idealism, have waned slightly. I used to feel compelled to express my emotions through creative prose. That was kind of a barometer for me. Right now, I don’t feel that. It’s not that I feel bad or lacking, it’s just that the thoughts and feelings are not making their way to the front of my consciousness, requesting (or demanding) to be released, expressed.

(The chorus is silent now, uninterested in the bard’s introspective monologue. They return to their personal devices - tune back in to interior diatribes of their own.)

What I do feel is more of a calm. Less immediately compelled to visit the muse. It’s not that I don’t feel like being creative - it’s just that, I guess, I am not in the mood to do it with rhyme. Instead, I am writing this confessional (what a weird, loaded word!) - so still writing but in a more perfunctory manner. So, what am I confessing? Do I feel guilty for not sprucing poetry? Not really. But it is unusual. Although, if I consider where I am at in my life, it does make sense.

To explain: six days a week for over a year now, I have been spending four to six hours in the studios at SAE where I am studying electronic music production. So I have been awash in audio magic. Actually, not all magic. Quite a lot of process. Trial and error. Exploration. But what I am saying is that my focus - a new language has been found - and my new language has been sound, noise, melody, beats.

And, quite frankly, it has been surprisingly engrossing and rewarding. It began three years ago, when I discovered a new joy playing with Garageband on my iPad. I soon became addicted and committed to creating all kinds of crazy songs using loops and vocals recorded directly into my iPad in cafes, in my car, wherever. I made something like 140 songs over a year. They were pretty raw. Sometimes I would have beginners luck and smash out something kind of OK - I wasn’t even doing proper mixing, not even volume levels! - I relied more on concepts, lyric content and enthusiastic inventiveness to push things through. Naively, some might say delusionally, I went through the steps and brought out an album - releasing a proper CD with fancy cover, illustrated lyric sheet and even had a launch night at a local cafe (Rock & Roll Coffee Company, Mullumbimby). Sold like five copies! Actually, not like five: five. The thing is here: I did it. Completed the cycle.

Fate took care of the next step by calling to my attention an open day at SAE. Why not?, I thought. I always drive by, curious about the inside. Having traditionally been more of a film, images guy, I never really considered pursuing audio but when I turned up, I was curiously enthralled by the studios and got some good vibes. Tentatively, I signed up for a twice a week course in Ableton - electronic music production. Fortuitously, I was eligible for a scholarship that would cover 90% of the cost. Nothing to lose. Even then, when it came time to fully commit to commencing, I got the jitters. Did I really need to do this? As a big lover of routine and a commitment-phobe, I got very close to not going ahead. But something kept me in there.

A couple of times, after the first two classes, I felt out of my depth. I had no idea how to even make the most basic of drum beats, for heaven’s sake. All the others were experienced performers, most with active and dynamic SoundCloud pages, song releases, band experience.

So what kept me in?

One was the software itself. Ableton, despite seeming somewhat overwhelming at first is like a magic playground. Each new toy is like a puzzle to be worked out but once you have cracked the code and can use the new element it adds an exciting new layer to your production capabilities. And the best part? The possibilities are endless! The kid in me (never far from the surface) is continually delighted by the fun factor. Playing with sounds - making stuff up. It’s like sonic Lego. Phonic papier mache. Audio art class. Love, love, love. After getting over the first mountain of challenging newness and confusing complexity - which for me took about 3 or 4 months of solid application. (So worth it!)

The other thing factor in my sticking with and becoming an Ableton advocate was my teacher/mentor. For me, someone who never took easily to the teacher/student relationship, he was the ideal leader. He led by example. Chilled. No pressure. But always patient with us newbies, attentive to individual rhythms (figuratively and literally) and generous with his time and in sharing his amazing skills. I am certain his easy style and low key, natural encouragement helped me hang in there during the make or break early stages. And beyond. Like a flight instructor he got me to the stage where I could fly solo. And I am up in the sky as often as I can be. I salute the squad leader, ever grateful.

After I finished the Music Cert III, I signed up for the Diploma in Music Production. While there was still some Ableton in that one, it was more expansive - with some excellent music theory and studio technique stuff. Another teacher appeared who would adeptly educate and inspire me. A highly motivated, passionate Scotsman, also with a vast knowledge and lots of talent. I am still there and still learning. It’s awesome to be in an instructive and productive environment. Starting on ground level and making the slow ascent. Back to school at fifty seven. Who would have thought!

So, what am I really saying here?

(As much as I enjoy and advocate just going with the flow with writing - like I am doing here - I like, whenever possible, to consider what I am going on about and to share something that may be of value; a whisper of insight, a summation of substance of potentially applicable relevance to those in the chorus who may still be sticking around. In this case: thee.)

What I am saying is: taking on a whole new strain of creativity and starting right from the beginning has had it’s challenging moments but, at the same time, there is a wonderful freedom in coming in cold, being totally green, a beginner again. If I review my own path from the start, three years ago, to now - I have gone from being a curious novice with an interest and passion to now being someone with a pocketful of skills and some sauce sachets of knowledge who can - on his own - a build a decent tune from the ground up - from beats, to bass, to chords and melody to effects, levels, mix and mastering. I’ve gotten pretty good at something new. On a leap of faith, a bit of luck, providence, professional guidance and self belief. I recommend it. When life presents you with the opportunity to expand - take it. Or not. Sometimes it’s a waste of time. Luckily for me, this one was a good one.

Where it may lead, I cannot predict but for now, I am enjoying the ride. Less poem writing at airports but, hey, not a big price to pay.

You can listen to my recent audio creations here: www.soundcloud.com/lewiejpd
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Whoever 4 Ever

9/3/2018

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Communicating is one of my things.

Just not so much by talking.

Rather than use dialogue or conversation, I share my points of view in other ways - randomly alternating an arsenal of creative proficiencies - art, music and writing.

It’s an every day, many hour activity these days. Actually, it always has been - but as time has gone by, I have definitely become more focused and dedicated. Part of the reason is that I get a deep satisfaction from losing myself in what I’m doing. It’s a way of really getting into life. Like an athlete does, lovers do, and scientists. Dedication and application get results. And one of the delightful benefits of the creative life is that one continues to improve and advance with age (not ‘forward’ advance - it’s more multi-dimensional). There are no limits. Lovers break up, athletes lose speed and power but an artist just keeps going and going. Often we start slow, seem lazy or unmotivated at times, appear temperamental, are irregular in our output in both quality and quantity - but we keep on keeping on. The rewards are rarely material or financial - which can make enthusiasm hard to muster at times - but they are, especially when one has persevered for decades - soulfully rewarding.

I have been write things here, in this artist’s journal, steadily for the last five years. It used to be more often - and sometimes I feel like I am being neglectful of it. But the thing is; other pursuits - poems, collages and new electronic music tracks are taking up my time and energy every day. So, to set aside some time to delve into my headspace and express it in writing - not through a poem (which I love doing) and is like a tasty snack - but in stream of consciousness straight forward prose (going with the flow form)  is rarer. I never really know exactly where these journal entries are going to lead - exactly what is going to come out - and to be honest I find it easier to work on one of the other creative forms - they are more inventive and engaging.

The other thing is, I don’t have to do as much introspection. I don’t have to self reflect, open up, be raw as I whisper and wispish as I roar as with the other formats. Writing for this journal is more like going for a long run. It takes commitment. Especially right before starting. The payoff is usually there - it can be cathartic, revelatory, amusing or insightful - but not always. I don’t allow myself to edit of judge what I have written - either as I am doing it - or afterwards. I just let it all out. Keeps it real, keeps the flow. When I read back on these, down the track, I want to know what I have expressed is not only honest but un-sculptured. I just want pure transcription of mind space.

So, I am here now; doing one. And what I was thinking was - what is it exactly that I wish to communicate? Is there anything that is going to make a difference? To me or anybody else? Is making a difference even my goal? Life is such a turgid, ever shifting, momentum that no one thing, nothing is really of much lasting relevance in the long run.

So why bother, eh? Especially with something like this that is non-essential - that is just the blurting out of one little human, one artist fellow who lives in a rented room in a small town and essentially does the same thing day in-day out: sleeps in/goes to beach/goes to cafe/writes/makes new artworks/goes to studio to work on new tracks/comes home/makes giant salad/surfs the net/does more writing/watches stuff/goes to sleep late/then starts again.

Creature of habit.

Essentially, I am just existing in a most basic way. I have tried to work things out so that I don’t receive many (or any) phone calls, very few emails and get no visitors where I live. I have streamlined my simple existence so that I perform the basic functions necessary for survival - to make it through the day - and then the rest of the time I fill with either nature time (meditation and exercise), coffee time (stories or poems on my iPad), art time (on canvas or digital) or music time (Ableton explorations at SAE , where I am studying - in one of the studios).

Stuff like socialising, going to an office/job, participating in group activities - are no long part of my routine. I have gone from minimising these things to eliminating them altogether. Not sure if this is ideal - now that I am saying it - but it must be what I need for the moment - otherwise I wouldn’t be doing it. (Flawed logic - I know. Self delusion has got me into all sorts of strife in the past.)

Part of the reason I am conducting my time in this way is because I find some common things quite taxing. Although I can function perfectly well in any and all social situations, as time has progressed, I find them less and less rewarding. Of course, there are exceptions - like family. I always have time for my loved ones. (But I do live away from them - so the expectations are naturally limited.)

I have heard the monikers ‘hermit’ and ‘recluse’ used in reference to me recently.  When I get home to the share house, I usually just go in my room and stay there - concentrate of working on my stuff. I’m not a fan of lounge rooms in general - most definitely not if there is a TV on. I hate feeling like I am wasting time - unless it is intentional - and sitting around shooting the shit is not something I chose to participate in. (Luckily my two housemates have their own blend of quirky habits and seem OK with it. Slightly puzzled, at times maybe, but accepting.

Should I be saying all this? Ha, ha. Fuck it - it’s true! The truth will set you free, it’s been said. (A relief - let’s hope it’s right.) But no, I don’t have any fear around saying it like it is in this forum. It’s all just temporary. Interpretation. Could even be fiction.

Labels are only labels, concepts and opinions ephemeral. Obviously, my life is much more intricate and abstruse than this brief account may reveal. I CAN act ‘normal’ (conforming, placating other’s expectations) - but I CHOOSE not to have to. It does not serve me or my mission - which is feeding my spirit and mind, fully creating new stuff all the time.

Did some one say ‘obsessive’? LOL. Again - just a word. And nothing wrong with healthy obsessions. You have to do something, right? No one is getting hurt. Confounded, maybe.

Although, it is totally beyond my control as to how this is interpreted - I do hope that for some readers, it opens up and sanctions new behavioural possibilities. Shows that it’s OK (I say!) to follow your own intuition, forge your own path - even if it puts you in the ‘outsider’ or dare I say - ‘weirdo’ - category. Truth is nobody else is keeping score. Everybody is fully consumed by obstacles and developments of their own - whatever that may be. Every one is doing what they must to navigate through this crazy (and occasionally partly sane) realm we inhabit.

Saying that, what is the crossover on a perception level? Say between me and you? There is much we have in common - interpretation of things - of everything - must be so different. We are all the sum of our inputs/experiences/upbringings and much of what we are is essentially just a reaction to what has been forced upon us up to this point - mixed in with a whole lot of other things, of course. It’s all so random!

Just thinking about it now is kind of blowing my mind. Not an atomic bomb level - but, you know, a hand grenade, at least. How can I even be writing this - and you reading it - and what the hell am I talking about? What am I trying to say? And why? Makes me believe that, despite what we may believe that we are all much more connected and entangled than we may think.

We all know life is freaky. Every day brings new examples. We want to keep on living - even though if you really assess it - it’s kind of hard work, mostly. Thankless even. It seems more that way, as continue to get older, anyway.

Every age has it’s own stages, it’s own challenges and rewards. When you get past fifty, there’s an undeniable shift in your relationship to life itself. It’s not only me - others have confirmed - youth and all it’s trappings are over. Many of the things you relied on to keep you interested and engaged are no longer in your spectrum. If they are they are fading. New attitudes, new behaviours become  essential. I say all this like it’s some sort of revelation, surprise. And that’s because it kind of was - for me at least. It’s like the fun part of the game is over and while the game itself continues on and you remain as a player - there are parts that are no-go zones. And some of those parts may likely have been your favourite bits. The bits that you were not only good at but enjoyed.

It takes adjusting, let me tell you. (If you are around my age, you’ll relate.) At a certain point you have to do a total reassessment and work out a new approach - physically, mentally and spiritually. Mortality is a bigger consideration. Bigger picture things need to be considered. Health becomes vital - requires more vigilant attention, maintenance. Ignore it at your peril. (Some do.)

Fantasies - of great success, of perfect love, of enduring romance, of fool proof security, certainty, of changing the world - lose their muster. They are harder to sustain. As you grow and become more substantial, realistic, perhaps even of more social value - you realise more clearly how puny you and your aspirations really are in the scheme of things.

This revelation is two pronged. It can be rather depressing, distressing. But in another way, it is strangely comforting. The pressure is off. Self expectation can be corralled. After all, what is the point? Of anything?

It’s insane. But it’s also sobering.

What a journey it has been, I find myself thinking. So much! But where has it all gone? You can’t hold on to anything. Memories - they are fine and enjoyable (with a degree of payoff) but they can also be quite maddening because some of them include lifetime peaks - things that can never be recreated or relived. They can be reminders that you’ve had your go at being young and wild and reckless - and it’s over! There are still things you can do, of course, with effort, that will be rewarding -  but the pay-off is reduced to 71% (estimate). They are not as prevalent or as flowing freely anymore and - I don’t know - it’s just not quite the same.


It may sound like I am complaining - but I am not. I have more or less come to terms with it all. Life has beaten into submission! (LOL. Cry. Wipe tears and shrug.) A long and slow, relentless assault. White flag!

The other prong that I mentioned - the positive one - comes once you have found acceptance. Some hoity-toity, altruistic qualities start floating around. Stuff like dignity, wisdom, endurance. You don’t immediately get any of these but, in tiny increments, they find their places in your existence. Some consolation! (It is.)

Just being a survivor is something. Connecting on deeper planes with others of your age (and all ages, in fact) brings some comfort. You are able to make conversations and connections more substantial, meaningful. Empathy is up.

A resolution not to give in too early or without profound resistance wells up in you. Sure, there’s plenty that you can’t change - but with focus and effort you can sustain what remains. You can work with what you’ve got - and by now you know well what that is - to hone it, perfect it, squeeze out whatever juice is in it.

Maybe you will become a teacher, an advisor, a mentor. You can give to your protégés the information, knowledge and encouragement that you wish you had received along the way on your own journey. You can make your life less about you and more about others. (This is a good one - natural for parents, of course - but available and rewarding to all.)

So - there you go. There I am. Here I was. A verbal ablution. An unfiltered declaration, a semi-spiritual sound off.

See what I mean? I just start writing and let it all pour out. There’s nothing particularly profound or even insightful here but it is where my head is at currently. I share because I can, because I choose to. I do it because I know myself that reading another’s truth can be illuminating, comforting. I have committed to sharing mine, as best I can - not as often as I wish, lately, as I mentioned - because above and beyond anything else we all need and want to feel connected.

The fact that I am able to share my vulnerabilities, ambivalent perceptions and my unresolved feelings without censorship is subtly uplifting. By necessity, out in society, we feel compelled to present our strongest selves but underneath, inside, we are all susceptible to a ceaseless flood of challenges and demands. If nothing else, we are versatile creatures, for sure. Each uniquely individual - but probably more alike than we realise.

So, it’s unlikely you will find yourself seated beside me at a dinner or engaged in a D&M phone convo like we may have done in the old days, so this is what you get instead - a slice of headspace to mull over and interpret in a way that best serves you. Whoever you are.

Sincerely,

Whoever I am


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Listen Hear

7/1/2018

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So I am sitting in the cafe working on a new poem.

And two ladies walk in and shuffle around with the waiter in tow, trying to decide on their destination table. They chose one close to mine, just a metre away.

It’s always interesting how the proximity to others will effect or not effect my writing flow.

Sometimes, I purposely don’t look at people, not more than a passing glance as they approach perhaps, so that I don’t have a detailed visual of them and thus can find it easier not to be distracted by them.

But sometimes, a certain voice, certain conversation - either it’s dynamic or content - will be hard for me to completely ignore.

A part of my brain analyses what I hear, the nuances, the emotions in the voices, the dynamic of the interplay between the players.

In this case, right now, these two are not overly distracting. They are reasonably somber and self contained. Some people do a bit of showing off in public - which I find irksome - others are more relaxed, discrete.

What I did notice though - without so much listening to the content of their words - was the ebb and flow of the conversation - the way that they each influenced each other’s mood and response.

It made me realise how any pairing of two people is going to be so completely different, depending on the individual energies. And how, if you were making a film, for example, the chemistry of the two players is so crucial. I suddenly realised just how much difference it makes. In the direction of the interchange, the dramatic levels, the mood.

They are talking a little softer now and with a more flowing to and fro.

Wait. No. One has gone silent for a while.

I like that. Means they are reasonably comfortable with each other. I can detect forced conversations and they are not rhythmically as pleasant. The slight unease is palpable.

I am not listening to. the actual sentences being said, their voices are of a reasonably low register, so it is almost a hum I am hearing.

I think it may be mother and daughter. I am not going to look. Sixty/forty it is, though. That kind of dynamic. One voice is definitely younger, the other offering advice like suggestions, it seems.

Other sounds I can hear are the traffic outside the window behind me, a low volume pop song from the far corner of the room, the shuffling of the sous chefs at the bench to my left, an occasional ‘bing’ from the bell when a dish is ready.

Some random snippets of conversation coming from people passing by outside. Cutlery crunches. The low hum of a bus engine. The clamouring lid of a large pot. The scrape of a wooden chair leg on the concrete. The tap of the espresso handle from the barristers corner. Plates ringing as they are stacked. Another chair is pushed along the floor, this time more vehemently. A small motorbike passes by, then another.

I have been studying music production for the last year and a half now, so I realise that I have been training my self to listen with more acuity. To accurately pick out select sounds and frequencies and to pay attention to them. This is part of what I do when making a song.

I just finished a new one today. It’s not mixed yet, but the main body is there. I like it. I like most of my new songs immediately after they are done. Generally speaking your latest is your favourite. Not always, though. Sometimes you will luck out and make a really beauty that stays at the top of the list for three, four, five songs forward.

I haven’t written much in these journal entries about my musical production. In some ways this is because it is so special to me. It’s a whole new area, a completely new domain for me to learn about and explore, create in. So I have kept it kind of sacred, been silent about it, not wanting to quantify or examine it because it is still precious and fresh. I haven’t wanted to dissect or discuss the process - just to get on with it and into it.

But now, after having finished probably fifty or sixty original tunes, I finally feel ready to release three or four into the world - make my debut as a musical artist.

I can listen to them and feel happy with them, that they represent who I am. I have by no means mastered the art of song production but I have found my own way through it to the point where the sounds that I am selecting, refining and juxtaposing into a coherent piece are an authentic representation of my feelings, my head space.

Through a mixture of dedication and focus, daily application and experimentation, I have found my groove, eased into a style that is uniquely mine, a sound that pleases me in it’s inventiveness and it’s sonic signature. And there is a coherence in the most recent pieces, the ones that I will release, that unites them harmoniously, even though they are individual tunes. This is a good thing, what I have been patiently aiming to achieve.

So, I am now almost at the first level of being a music producer. My first representational works are nearing release. It is exciting.

They won’t change the world. My expectations are realistic and humble. For me, the greatest pleasure is in the production itself. What happens with them, where they go and how they interact with the outside world is not up to me and quite honestly, is not my concern. I have been an artist and a writer of prolific output for four decades now and have yet to have even drawn the average of a standard wage from my creations if you add up my time spent and materials outlay. Whatever early fantasies I had of making money, or even a basic living from my art output, have dissipated completely. I am not being defeatist, just realistic. Self promotion has never been my strong suit. I like to just get on with making new things. It is likely, I could have been more financially successful if I had put the time in to translating my stuff into money, but it is not in my nature. So be it. So, I hardly expect any dollars flowing in from songs - not at any stage. And I am totally cool with it.

I am dedicated to creating new stuff. That’s what I do. Everyday. It’s what I am good at.

The ladies are still here, chatting away. They are slightly more animated now, aloft with their second caffeine shots.

I completely zoned out of them for a while there, when writing this. That’s what happens. That’s what I like about writing, making art, making music. That detachment, that immersion.

The blissful escape, the transcendence. Worth far, far, far more than money. ​
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P.S You're A Master

1/7/2017

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You know what, Paul Simon
I thought about you this morning
About the grace and depth of your lyrics
The zest and acuity, the spirit
And the perfection with which you performed them
Hat's off, Simon
You're a true class act

A tunesmith myself
What I have synthesized so far is
You need to get out of your own way
If you really have something worthwhile to say

Streamline your message
Add frills sparingly, alliteration daringly
A touch of madness in your method
Surprise and comfort, elicit emotion and energy
In a perfectly baked assemblage

It's all about the timing
A deftness of delivery
An seemingly effortless seamless rhyming

And you know what
I'm sitting here in my favourite beach cafe
And guess what album rides in across the waves
Graceland
How perfect
I love coincidences like that
Time and place, man
And they play the whole album
How random
Just what I needed to accompany me
On my journey across a new lyric landscape
The man himself
For Garfunkel's sake!

I'm certain that countless accolades
Have long been thrown your way

Lobbed in the air like grenades of praise
Like bravo bouquets
But I just wanted to say something personal
Cause I admire you in spades
The way your declarations cascade
With such clarity
No disparity between intention and invention
Transport the listener to a whole new dimension
Uplift us, enlighten, leave us teary
From the first phonetic to the very last letter
So, thank you
Sincerely

P.S - You're a master
​
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Whtevr Yr Srchng 4

27/6/2017

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I wrote a card the other day to my teacher, Tyler, at SAE where I am studying electronic music production. It was a brief note, thanking him for sharing his expansive knowledge with a selfless patience, empathy and his own easy style. I bought it from the Op shop for 50 cents. It had penguins on the covers, about 20 of them, 6 of them saying 'Cheers!' ​

What I noticed as I jerkily dragged the pen up and down and sideways across the glossy white rectangular paper to form the words is how out of practice my pensmanship is and realized that, apart from filling in a rare form here and there, it has probably been a couple of years since I've actually written anything on paper.

It's all iPad and computers these days, texting on the phone (Samsung Note), emails and poetry, essays and short stories in Pages. My typing speed is probably up there in the 40's by now. With delete, copy, paste, highlight and move, easy access to online dictionary, thesaurus and rhyming apps; using technology is smooth and productive.

It used to be that I kept hand written, hefty journals. Carried them around with me everywhere and wrote in them daily. Somewhere storage, stashed in boxes, they still exist - comics scrawled, ideas jotted, poems composed. From about 1980 to the mid 2000's. I'm not sure how many - fifty, a hundred?

Now my stuff goes straight to the cloud. I churn stuff out much faster, more consistently. I love it. The process has been streamlined. After decades of scratching and scribbling, I am happy to be speed tapping and screen reading.

Then there is this blog, Art Gets Me High. My forum for art/life/creativity related thought and feelings, like this. It's an outlet that I started on a whim and has now been ticking over for going on four to five years. I would not have written the contents herein in my journals. The immediacy of the connection - from my thoughts to immediately published online incites a directness, an enthusiasm and encourages off the cuff expression.

Truth is I don't know who exactly reads my stuff but it doesn't really matter. It's just nice to connect. To have a voice. To fill the void (my void, our void, the void.)
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One thing I can find out is how many weekly visitors and page reads the site gets. There's some graphs and some numbers. I like to check them every few days just to see. The numbers have been steadily growing over the years and sometimes a sudden spike will surprise, perplex and mildly delight me. Someone is reading it. I'm not wasting my time. (Not that I ever thought I was. Numbers don't lie. Not like words can. Ha ha. Of course they can. It would be funny if actually they were randomly generated all this time and in fact the whole site was never even uploaded!)
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The info page also tells me the origins of the visitors and pages landed. The other interesting thing that I noticed the other day is Search Terms. This month's one was pretty funny: theo single bed frame cream. What the?!

As best as I can work it out - the tag from Theo came from the name of the headmaster of the National Art School I attended in the early eighties. Single: my relationship status. Bed: where I love to spend much time. Frame: they hold my artworks. And cream: hmmm... with my ice coffees - but did I tag that?
Anyway, quite a search term. I wonder what that person was actually looking for. And when they landed on my site - did they read any of it. Get into it? I like to imagine they did. And that it liberated their minds - changed their lives forever. That's what it's for. ​

It's changed mine.
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Echoes Inside Us

25/9/2016

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- You see, what happens is I get the rhythm in my head, the rhythm of their words. The rhythm of their words and the atmosphere and direction of their retelling of their journey. And it stays with me for a while after I have bent over the little paper corner and folded the page chunks together - to trap in all the good stuff until I next venture in.

Just like with people that you meet, you connect with varying intensities. With this guy I am connecting strongly. It's not so much about similar experiences - it's more about his expression of his perception of his recollections and the easy going, dot-connecting retelling - that is comfortable and familiar. He has a poet's flow, a writer's eye for detail and an outsider's clarity of the bigger picture, told from a vantage point of complex feelings mixed with a slightly amused detachment.

White Out is the book and the dude's name is Michael W. Clune. I read his previous book - A Gamer's Life - and truly enjoyed it's honesty, perceptiveness and originality. Nothing showy, just his soul talking. I asked the library to get this one in and they did. On the same day that it arrived, so did Dave Eggers new one about an intrepid woman in a bomby campervan with her two young kids in Alaska and I started reading that first, having relished all his previous publications, especially Zeitoun. Alas, Alaska left me cold. Fifty pages in I started skipping. By ninety I was out of there. Open White Out and mmm.... yeah... inviting and familiar. I am a quarter way through. Savouring. (Which doesn't mean reading it slower.) 

The embodiment/mimicking/temporary inhabiting of a character also happens sometimes with movies. I suppose it's not an uncommon thing. The voice gets in your head. It's not unpleasant. Like a visitor. With reverb. It lingers, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. 

It has prompted me to transcribe my thoughts right here, now. I have not been as regular as usual with my logs. (I don't mean poos.) Truth is, I have been busy. I have been seduced in a way. Drawn away from my painting and writing for a time. And what has captured me? Kidnapped my imagination and siphoned off much of my creative output time?

Music.

Over the last six or seven months I have been building tunes on Garageband. Every day. In my usual focused, tunnel vision way, I have devoted myself to the audio invention process and completed over 120 new songs. It's been my little secret. I haven't wanted to speak of it, less it's power be dissipated. But now it's cool. My first CD has been pressed and will be released next month. It's called Lolipopman. Twenty tunes. A mixture of folk, pop, punk, spoken word, old white fella hip hop and ambient. It's a new work of art - just in musical form. The writing is still there - it's relatively abundant in lyrics - but the colours are now sounds. The concepts are compositions. For me, as a comparative novice in the music field it has been a delightful departure. 

It has interfered with my comic, painting and writing output - but you can't do everything all at once. And these songs are like my newest fling. I am captivated. 

There. Confession done. No more sneaking around, making excuses for my infrequent blog appearances. To apologise is unnecessary, but I have felt a little guilty some days. I like being here, translating my up-to-date thoughts and feelings and observations about art and the creative life. Free flowing the little white words on black background from my mind, through my fingers and onto the screen. I like communicating with my friends in the clouds, across the skies, who are, like me, swimming in alternating turgid and serene oceans of their own. I like our conversations. Even though they are more like monologues. But they're not. I can hear you listening. I feel connection. Just like when I read the words of Eggers or Clunes or Carver or Salter or whoever gets through to me and finds a welcome place in my evolving consciousness. I know I am at home with you sometimes. And it feels comfortable, even comforting. Echoes inside us. They lead us closer to our destination. Our every changing destination.


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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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bluebird generation

22/8/2014

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I woke up this morning and suddenly remembered, completely out of the blue, performing in a Japanese TV commercial back in the early eighties. Don't know why it popped into my mind but it did. Of course there was no internet back then, no USB sticks, not even DVDs. I may have received a betamax copy or a VHS of the ad, but maybe not even that. Thirty one years after the event, I realise I may be able to find it. A bit of digging on YouTube and - voila - there it was.

It was a big deal at the time. I was living with my then girlfriend from art school (who would eventually become my wife, then my ex-wife) in Tokyo. We were both on the books at a modelling agency and she got a call to come in and audition for an ad that required dancing. She had written down dancing as a skill. (I hadn't. Mine were 'heavy thinking' 'abstract expressionism' and 'space invaders'.) I tagged along with her. It was in a dance studio. There were hundreds of people of all nationalities trying out. I may as wel join in, I figured and asked our manager to put my name down - said that of course I could dance! Any style! They shrugged and figured, why not. If he gets in too, it's an extra commission for us. Everyone loves an easy 20%.

Bianca did a great job, she looked great busting her moves in her leotards and long socks. (Guess what dance movie was a massive hit that year. Starts with 'Flash...') She got in on the first round. Easy. They told us it would be a three day, away shoot. All expenses paid. Plus a significant daily rate. My keenness was amplified. They only needed a few more from the callbacks. What I lacked in formal training, I made up in wild abandon and goofy charm. I made it in. I was the last choice. Yahoooo!

Break dancing was only just starting then in the US. They brought out four of the best from LA and NY. And they were amazing! I remember watching their moves, popping and locking, and being in complete awe. It was super cool and inspiring. 

The shoot, for the new Nissan Bluebird, starred a Japanese singing superstar. I forget his name now. Maybe Saijo Hideki or Julie. He was a nice guy. Wore a cool gold suit. Don't remember much about the other dancers. It was a fun few days, though. Being on set in this kind of ad usually is. Got to stay in a nice hotel with Bianca too. And everything was paid for. 

As well as the TV commercial they did some massive billboards in Ginza. I remember seeing it, towering about us, at the main intersection, as we exited the subway one afternoon. You could just make out the top of my head, jumping up like a popping Sex Pistol, and Bianca's right breast. We were famous! Well, at least rich. (Compared to before the shoot anyway.)

When I found the ad on my computer this morning, I was delighted. How funny. I had to rewatch it multiple times to even find myself. You can catch just a glimmer of me, twice. The one in the yellow singlet slightly left of the left side headlights around the 2' mark and again at the 22' mark. Bianca is behind me around the 4' mark, in her glorious purple sequined  one piece. I laughed when I saw it. Good times. Funny. And how cool to be able to wake up, remember it and be watching it minutes later, thirty years on.
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cat n me

13/7/2014

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"Miles from nowhere
Guess I'll take my time
To reach there..."

Cat Stevens was a guiding force in my formative teen years. I learnt every word on the album Tea for the Tillerman and would listen to it (on vinyl; end of side A, flip it over and put the needle back down on side B, rpt - a process unknown to more recent arrivals on Planet E) over and over. So many incredibly soulful, meaningful, spiritual songs. All of them as relevant and poignant today as they were when first released in the early 70's. 

Father and Son
Wild World
Where Do The Children Play
Miles From Nowhere
But I Might Die Tonight
On The Road To Find Out

That's just some of them. I'd have a favourite for a few months and then move onto the next. As a rebellious teen, I didn't get any guidance from my parents or school. I was pretty much left to my own devices to work things out. Real world experiences, friends, a steady flow of books, and a few select albums. Cat was number one. He had it all - the inventive, pure, melodic music with the meaningful lyrics. Other faves were Elton John (Yellow Brick Road) and Jackson Browne.

"Be wise, look ahead
Use your eyes he said
Be straight, think right
But I might die tonight!"


Cat was an anti-establishment, anti-authoritarian guy. He seemed, in his mellifluous, calmly charismatic voice, to be talking to my young teenage self, saying, "you are right not to buy into all the bullshit, find your own way." Some of this I had worked out myself, it was innate, but having Cat back me up, with his wisdom, quiet charm and self assurance sure helped.


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could be anyone

10/6/2014

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He's come alive through facebook. It's his form of creative expression. He posts pictures of wonderful sunsets and beaches, advice on health and well being, funny slogans and ironic comics. All stuff sourced from other facebook pages. 

Most of it is pretty good. I don't know him that well but have come to know him better by his posts. They don't directly connect with me but generally they are of reasonably good quality. I can feel his joy in posting them. So I keep him on my feed. Why not. I care about the environment, eating healthy, and enjoy the positive slogan, too.

He used to have an ordinary job, then he got an inheritance and now he travels the world, in a modest fashion. (ie not fancy or wasteful, less Vegas more Nepal.) His girlfriend used to be a lesbian before they started going out and before that, when I first knew her, she was going out with a talented and somewhat mystical/deranged saxophonist dude. I saw him down at Bondi a few years ago, after a decade of not seeing him and he was even weirder than before. Still wearing lots of medallions and big rings and still with unusually configured facial hair. I went to see him gig once in a boutique hotel in Double Bay.

Come to think of it, lots of people I used to know are now just characters in a narrative in the recesses of my mind.

As well, many of my life's most formative and memorable experiences are now also just stories. Many, many of them, never told. Not yet, anyway.

My favourite post from the original guy I was talking about is a quote from OSHO. It's this:

'You are nobody. You are born as a nobodiness with no name, no form. You will die as a nobody. Name and form are just on the surface; deep down you are just vast space. And it is beautiful.'

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touched

1/3/2014

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Such a beautiful song. It suddenly came to mind last night, forty years after I first heard it. It reminded me of a girl I shared significant, wonderful feelings with. She really liked this song, too. We heard it together when we were kids, in a department store. Maybe we held hands. I was only twelve at the time but I was beginning to realise emotions like longing and desire were more powerful and ran deeper than I had thought. 

This song was so full of feeling and such a strong comment on and mirror of feelings of intimacy that like a magic tune that opens the cave doors that lead to a tunnel that ends up in the candle lit cavern of love itself, it seduced me, made me short of breath, made me aware of a unexplored and expanding part of my own psyche that would blossom over the years to come.

The girl remained a friend over the next half a dozen years. We didn't see each other much but stayed in contact. I had a handful of girlfriends and shared some fun times, but none of them captured my heart.

Six or seven years later, fate brought us back together and we renewed our friendship and eventually become lovers. It was romantic and enthralling. Time had strengthened the bond and the eventual physical union was inevitable and glorious. It lasted most of a year until I went away for a while and she betrayed me. She begged forgiveness on my return but the damage was done. I had to walk away.

Like the reality of being in love and it's eventual demise, there's a haunting sadness to this song. Would I do it all again? Of course. And I did. A few times over the next three decades. But none were ever as sweet or as pure as the first.

Nowadays when I lie in bed in the morning or pre-slumber, alone, I will sometimes spontaneously recall profound moments from my past and get up and write them down just like I have this entry. Funny how it goes. From un-initiated, wide-eyed, innocent romantic to world weary, hardened, veteran romantic.

Will love be coming back around to disrupt my blissful solitude once again? Perhaps just one final time? Ahhh, we'll see.
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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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