You Are Here finished last week. I had a blast – this year I:
Competed every day for ten days in the Artists Olympics (placing second overall – woo!)
Performed (with Faux Faux Amis) at Free Music For Rich Kids
Had a film (my 2nd short) screened at Zonk Vision’s One Minute Film Festival
Guested on the panel ‘Should You Art For Free?’
Photo by Adam Thomas
Which sounds like a lot, but compared to last year, was a breeze. What’s more, without having to dash home to edit every night, I got to experience more than any other year. Not including the many things I part-caught, I saw Unsex Me, I Sold My Soul For Rock’n’Roll And I Didn’t Charge It Anything, Glitoris, gRage with Anja Loughhead, In Canberra Tonight, Hexidecibel, Lady Lolz and The Mayfly Project.
I’d like to thank the producers, including Nick, for curating another amazingly diverse selection of works. It is one of my favourite times of year, and I have made and cemented so many friendships through my participation.
Fun Machine approached me about making a clip to accompany their upcoming tour. The catch was they needed it in three weeks time, and only one of the four members (uber-drummer Nick Peddle) would be available to be in it. The song they sent through – Shave – was tremendous; catchy, joyous, and riddled with tempo changes. It needed a visual concept equally punchy.
After wracking my brains for two days coming up with as many ideas as possible (most of which involved dressing Nick P in ridiculous outfits), I hit on making our limitations work for us. If the band couldn’t be in the clip, why not get everybody except the band to sing the song?
There’s an innocence and whimsy to Fun Machine (I imagine they all live together Monkees-style and eat fairy bread for dinner) that I strove to capture in the bright colours and kid’s party vibe of the video. All our videos have had a strongpalette, but this is our most aggressively colourful yet (the test shots I filmed featured an Andy Warhol doll, an omitted but obvious reference) – next, I’d like to try something muted but equally focused.
Making a video with this many people, set-ups and edits, in the couple of weeks we had, was fairly ambitious. We shot the clip over a weekend – Lou and I spent eight hours the first day filming all the cutaway shots. Coming up with these shots and then realizing them was heaps of fun – no idea was too outré. It was great to be able to try so many things (e.g. stop-motion) under the auspices of making a music video. Look out for some of my favourites, including:
A gorilla crying candy banana tears.
The world’s dorkiest Raiders Of The Lost Ark reference.
A hand with green nail polish strumming a carrot.
A stop-motion Hulk mug scaring away a group of espresso cups.
A sock puppet smoking a cigarette.
There was nothing hugely complicated in any of these, but set-up and lighting chewed up most of our time (throwing a balloon into frame so that it faces the right way and your arm doesn’t cast shadows is surprisingly hard. See also: sliding a fish from underneath a table while someone else blows bubbles). I love that some of these shots are only in the clip for a couple of seconds (or less) – my hope is they add value to repeated viewings.
The next day, 19 people descended on our house for their close-ups. We’d provided the lyrics and song a few days earlier, but I had no clue if anyone would be able to lip-sync to it all. Some people were so focused on singing it word-perfect they barely moved. Others threw caution (and the words) to the wind and just made love to the camera for three minutes. Most fell somewhere in the middle. All of it was great and different and special, and every take told you something about the person – the wide angle lens was inches from each face, so there was nowhere to hide.
Nearly everyone got thrown by the same line – “I’ve been inside my love and ah ven chaver”. That’s verbatim from the lyrics provided by the song’s writer Ramsay. I googled it to no avail, thinking it was a snippet of some foreign language (many others did the same). I could have made a whole video out of everyone’s confused scrunched-up faces when they came to that part. It wasn’t until Nick P arrived and texted Ramsay that the mystery was solved – it was just gibberish, a random burst of scatting. The truth was, to be honest, a letdown – I prefer Jesh Brand’s interpretation (which coincidentally perfectly lip-syncs), “I’ve been inside my love and haven’t showered”. Brilliant.
We also pinned a list to the wall with all the other crazy stuff we wanted filmed. Scrawled on it were things like “comedy moustache”, “shaving”, and “slapped by fish”. Unsurprisingly, no one was taking us up on “slapped by fish”, so I added the enticement, “with free tequila shot!”. The plucky Kat Beecroft accepted the challenge (but graciously declined the tequila).
The day after we wrapped filming, I went to Melbourne for a week. But I packed my laptop and began the edit that night. The split-in-four screen was in the back of my mind when filming (because I knew we would have a lot of footage to fit into three minutes), but it didn’t really take shape until the edit. It essentially quadrupled my editing workload, but it makes the clip for me.
Yet again, Lou was indispensable, working as prop gatherer, set builder, camera operator, people wrangler, test audience and all round voice of reason. She’s all through the clip too – her eyes, her dancing feet, her painted fingernails – she doesn’t get the credit she deserves (we need to find the appropriate poly-title), but it would not have been possible without her.
Fun Machine were amazing to work with – they gave me complete freedom and trusted in everything I did. 16 hours of filming, 20 hours of editing, 19 faces, one killer song = three minutes of beautiful pop-art. Enjoy.
The last two projections have consisted of found footage, which I’ve previously described as “kaleidoscopic pop-art sensory overload” (“tumblr vomit” works fine too). For this new piece, I wanted something cleaner.We cribbed some moves (and attitude) from Jørgen Leth’s 1967 film The Perfect Human (which like most people, I discovered via the excellent The Five Obstructions). There’s a stillness and formality to it that’s quite seductive. It’s the kind of imagery that might normally accompany glacial minimalist electronica. How it will marry up to our garage-punk racket is something I’m looking forward to discovering.
After shooting it, the beautiful close-ups put me in my mind of Dreyer’s Joan Of Arc. Which was never the intention – I just like faces. When I used to paint/stencil, faces were all I would do. The first music video I shot, and the last (the soon-to-be-released next single from Fun Machine), are composed almost entirely of head shots. It’s an idée fixe I doubt I’ll ever work out of my system. And of course, the telegenic charms of Chris and Kev cannot be overstated.
The projection will again be synced to Chris’ kick drum pedal. In essence, it will be a music video where each edit is randomised. No two viewings will be the same – how cool is that?
A couple of months ago I had a psychological evaluation. The psychologist told me I was in the acceptable range, but cautioned that I border on ‘manic’.
I admit, I like to keep busy. And creatively, last year has been my biggest. After returning from South America, I’ve put most of my energy into one project – the pilot of my sitcom The Real.
It’s a huge undertaking – essentially putting myself through my own devised course in television-making. I have learnt so much – from the writing, rewriting, casting, running rehearsals, set-dressing, location-scouting, organising props, directing, coordinating cast and crew, editing, post-production, and a thousand other things. I wanted to do as much as possible by myself. But of course, filmmaking is the collaborative medium, the one that incorporates writing, theatre, design, music, and photography. Even keeping costs and (production levels) to a minimum, 25 people have helped or worked on some aspect of the production so far. That blows my mind.
I am incredibly proud of what we have achieved and thankful I was stubborn enough to just plunge headfirst and not give up during the (many) stressful moments.
I absolutely love directing. But I never planned to be a director. I got a video camera and started filming things to cross-train and supplement my screenwriting. Rather quickly, it took over. The four years I spent running around with a DSLR prior meant I hit the ground running – I already knew a bit about f-stops and shutter speeds, the importance of light and framing.
I spent years reading books and blogs on screenwriting (and still do) – much of what I learnt, through repeated immersion, is now second nature, things I do without thinking, that I take for granted. My directing is not there yet – I still feel like I’m faking it. One of the main differences is screenwriting practice can be done in private – directing practice requires participants/guineas pigs. I need to reach the same level with my directing – to that end, I’ve reading several books on directing (I’m good at applying book-learnin’ – in my teens I taught myself to juggle from a couple of paragraphs sans pictures in an old book). I also spent three days last week in Melbourne at a ‘directing actors’ workshop.
And next of course, I need to find some more participants/guinea pigs.
In his excellent Supergods, Grant Morrison describes donning an “ink-suit” and entering the fictional world of his characters. It’s not a novel concept (though his use of it in mainstream comics was) – authors have been writing themselves into their stories since the beginning. A favourite example is the unexpected appearance midway through Martin Amis’ Money of “writer Martin Amis” (at whose introduction, Kingsley Amis allegedly gave up reading his son’s book).
I’m a sucker for these kinds of metatextual shenanigans (which explains my love of Borges and At Swim Two Birds), but in making The Real the opposite has occurred. Instead of inserting ourselves into a fictional world, we are bringing fictional objects into the real world. We’ve made ‘for sale’ signs for the make-believe Werner Real Estate.
There’s also a wood-and-glass (re: physical)award for our protagonist.
It’s as if we’ve journeyed across the divide (over to what Alan Moore dubbed a “unified field theory of fiction”) and returned with trophies. Like Coleridge’s paradisiac flower, they are tangible proof the fictional world exists. What I love most is how innocuous they appear, left propped against a wall or bookshelf, an incursion or seeping of the fictional into the actual.
It’s a mighty power, and we are accordingly judicious – I presume repeatedly bringing forth such artefacts would rip the fragile veil between the fiction-reality continuum and threaten widespread leakages. Because Fringe.
The video for Cracked Actor’s absurdly catchy Lemon On Your Lover dropped on Friday.
Nick came up with the amazing concept and script, and we shot it at my house/space station.
In the mix of banal and intimate moments between a couple, there’s a distinct voyeuristic aspect to the film. It’s accentuated by the zooming, the camera constantly pushing in, trying to get close enough to taste skin. It feels like an imagined Soviet training video, beamed back to earth from a possible future. I don’t know what Nick’s conception of the opening shots were, but I was immediately drawn to imitating the kitchen scenes from Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.
Nick mentioned he was shooting a sci-fi video clip to someone, who replied, “oh, so with lots of CGI?”. No, this is more original series Star Trek than Into Darkness. Chris Cunningham was a reference Nick cited early (alongside Blade Runner, Gattaca and Demolition Man), but the retro-futuristic aesthetic happily came about as a result of our resources and limitations. If we had the budget, it might have looked closer to Oblivion. The suggestive costumes (created and designed by industrial designer Julia Johnson – I love my friends!) recall Star Wars’ stormtroopers by way of Vivienne Westwood. The tools and set dressing (also by Julia) look unlike anything I’ve seen on film – beautifully freaky and fetishistic. Nick’s script was a shot list of striking images that we could shoot on a budget (the blue water shower is a favourite of mine – in answer to some question I had on set, Nick said “anything that makes it look odder”. ). It’s opened my mind to what is possible – normally I focus on what can be achieved with whatever’s at hand (or readily borrowed), but a couple hundred dollars and a lot of imagination dramatically expands the options.
The editing was driven by the track’s relentless drum pattern. The reference I brought up at concept stage was Nicholas Roeg and his editing style, particularly his use of foreshadowing (is there a term for this – when a future/following scene is intercut with the current one – premonition editing?). His cuts have a jarring tendency to get under your skin and I wanted ours to have the same appeal.
Camcorder video (it’s the first time I’ve shot on something other than my DSLR) and its ultra-sharpness also adds an unsettling veneer – the sharpness is an aesthetic unto itself – the first clip that sprang to mind when I saw the playback was Let Forever Be. Not for any similarities in staging or content, but purely the crispness of the images – I was like, “oh, so that’s how Gondry got that look…”. It also allowed the frequent zooms, an attempt to create (what I am coining as) clinical psychedelia. The dutch panning suggests zero gravity, and conjures allusions in my mind to Barbarella’s infamous opening (while there is derobing later, I like the subversion of Marc doing something as domestic and mundane as cleaning while the camera plays havoc with the spatial framing).
In many ways, it’s a throwback to the unnerving aesthetic we attempted with the fledgling Babyfreeze videos, but fullblown and in glorious (techni)colour. This is the first thing we’ve shot with such a focused colour palette (the PROM video was actually shot subsequently), and I absolutely love it. The white (so much beautiful white!) and blue work in interesting ways. Rather than suggesting an endless white landscape outside the frame, the reverse is true – there’s a sense of claustrophobia, of constriction within the sets, that’s reflected in the tightness of the costumes, the finicky and deliberate cleaning and food preparation. Blue, typically denoting calm, is inverted here to suggest a cool eroticism (I planned to shoot the amorous scenes with red lighting as well and cut between the two, but it’s all the stronger without it).
Marc and Ali were beautiful, magnetic presences, and a pleasure to work with. We asked a lot of them, and they brought so much more. It couldn’t have worked without them, and I can’t thank them enough.
However, if you find the video too psychologically extreme, and/or you prefer your music stripped-back, might I suggest the following video of lead singer Sebastian Field performing the song from the back of my car.
Central to Sipat’s practice is a level of audience engagement and interaction that clashes violently with Australian notions of comfort, consent and even safety. Attendees were made to enact nearly as many narrative moments as the actors, were frequently put into the role of Lover and were made to interact with their fellow audience in intimate, emotionally raw ways. There was a lot of chaos in their structure, but the moments it led to were some of the most undeniably potent I’ve seen from any live performance of any type.
Speaking of, the song that NickMc and I wrote ended up becoming the official anthem for LoveNOT and we performed it live at the end of the show. At four minutes long it was one of the funnest shows I’ve ever played. The song is called New Love Universe and I’ll post it to the blog soon.
The full title of the show was LoveNOT: This Is Not Yet A Musical. Just as it sounds, the idea was to precursor a musical titled Love. I’ve been not-so-subtle in attempts to audition as a songwriter for the work, and it looks like this collab might be just the first of many. I’ll post some of the things that we made over there as they’re edited and completed. This thing was a little to big to sum up in one post.
Photos by the Spectacular Sarah Walker, including this one of my Far East Husband Shane.
Over the last few weeks, things have started to take shape. Lou and I locked in our two main locations (the office where 90% of the action takes place, and the house where the penultimate scene occurs). Our sound recordist has visited the site, and our second camera operator has confirmed her availability. Discussions have taken place with kick-ass design company New Best Friend regarding the logos and signage we need for our fictitious companies.
But the largest task so far has been arranging and coordinating the casting call. I put notices out on OffPrompt, Starnow and various Facebook actor pages. The response was overwhelming – over 70 applicants within 12 days (and I am still receiving the odd application). I sent each actor a copy of the script. Nick, theatre director/confidante Cameron Thomas, and I then went through each CV, and selected 27 to audition. I booked a studio space for the following week.
On the day, 22 people auditioned. It was a nerve-wracking experience (for them and us), and we learnt so much about the process and how to improve it for next time. I have to say I was thoroughly impressed with all of the actors that attended – everyone was amazingly talented and prompted me to start thinking on the spot of where or how I could write them into something.
There are six main roles in The Real. The day after the audition, we offered three roles to actors. Of the remaining three, there were 2-3 actors that we thought could do an equally good job – we asked these actors to come back in a week later and we looked at combinations of actors in different groups. I’m happy to say that after that, we found our cast! This morning we had everyone over for a table read over fruit and coffee, and it was awesome.
The admin side has been crazy – keeping track of all the applicants (Lou helpfully did up a spreadsheet for me), arranging auditions, disseminating scripts, fielding queries, and then responding to everyone regarding their applications, has chewed up most of the last couple of weeks. That said, I’ve now met a bunch of cool people and am thrilled about working with the cast we have. Everyone that has come into contact with The Real has been supportive and excited that something like this is being made in Canberra. I hadn’t properly considered that when starting out, but now I see it as one of our strengths.
Given my passion for both music and film (and how much fun Shine Tarts was), it’d be crazy not to try to integrate video into gigs. To that end, multimedia artist Paul Heslin and I are developing a video projection concept to complement Faux Faux Amis shows.
Our intention is to create kaleidoscopic pop-art sensory overload – a constantly changing mash-up of videos pulled from across the cultural landscape – vacation footage of 60s Paris, 20s burlesque, cartoons, drive-in ads, and other ephemera. Like the zine, I am purposefully not tying the content to an overarching theme – juxtaposition and a space conducive to ‘happy accidents’ is paramount (the only guide in choosing content is my own personal taste and interests – curation as self-portrait).
We also want it to somehow sync to the performance, so that changes occur in real-time, rather than on a pre-recorded loop. Using Jitter within Max MSP, Paul is exploring ways to make this happen. His initial idea is a button attached to the bass drum pedal, so that each kick can trigger an edit. We’ll have several videos loaded in, and input will begin rolling video starting from a random frame each time. Last night we got close to programming just that – there’s still a few buggy things around latency and sizing to work through (as well as testing the best controller to use with the drum pedal), but with a month to go, we’re looking good.
This is extremely different to anything I’ve done with film before – live-editing, non-narrative, and found footage. Part of my inspiration is The Exploding Plastic Inevitable, the multimedia performances Andy Warhol conceived around The Velvet Underground (I love the story that VU started wearing sunglasses on stage because the light show was so blinding). I was also taken with a recent Central West gig (of which Paul is a member) where several projectors were running random Super 8mm footage. The combination of music and visuals is a powerful one; how the brain processes the information – the confluences generated and their interpretation, partly on a subconscious level – is fascinating.
Jitter is an amazingly versatile program (especially in Paul’s hands), and while we’ll keep it simple for the debut, there is potential to push further with the concept, and incorporate live video, multiple inputs and a variety of effects.