Sometimes I end up on social media writing shit for attention. Those times I with I'd thought longer about those words.
I like the idea that 'a friend's eye is a good mirror' but their Facebook wall is not.
This is not the validation you are looking for
Sometimes I end up on social media writing shit for attention. Those times I with I'd thought longer about those words.
I like the idea that 'a friend's eye is a good mirror' but their Facebook wall is not.
Farewell from Elm Street
For a few years I've been meaning to take a photo at Leeton's Elm Street that references the horror movies that share this name with a nightmare.
Learning today that Wes Craven had died motivated me to put on my Freddy glove and wave goodbye to the horror movie director.
I remember first hearing about the Elm St movies from a friend. It wasn't until 1989 that I was 15 and old enough to see the third film in the cinema and it gave me nightmares. I saw the earlier films later and then, when studying film at university, I began to think about the 'return of the repressed' theory.
This idea suggests that at the centre of horror movies is something even more sinister. A reading of the film Psycho would conclude that Norman Bates' relationship with his mother is even more troubling than the murders attributed to her.
With the Elm Street movies it was the inference that Freddy was killed by a vigilante mob for doing something very disturbing to kids.
I don't know if I've got the Freudian-influenced film theory right, but Craven showed his understanding of the horror genre masterfully with the Scream movies. These took the 'slasher' film cliches as a textbook for explaining the genre to the audience, while thrilling them with the visceral joys of being scared shitless.
It's no surprise to learn via Craven's wikipedia page that the director also worked in porn, as the genre shares with horror a visceral reaction in viewers.
I remember first hearing about the Elm St movies from a friend. It wasn't until 1989 that I was 15 and old enough to see the third film in the cinema and it gave me nightmares. I saw the earlier films later and then, when studying film at university, I began to think about the 'return of the repressed' theory.
This idea suggests that at the centre of horror movies is something even more sinister. A reading of the film Psycho would conclude that Norman Bates' relationship with his mother is even more troubling than the murders attributed to her.
With the Elm Street movies it was the inference that Freddy was killed by a vigilante mob for doing something very disturbing to kids.
I don't know if I've got the Freudian-influenced film theory right, but Craven showed his understanding of the horror genre masterfully with the Scream movies. These took the 'slasher' film cliches as a textbook for explaining the genre to the audience, while thrilling them with the visceral joys of being scared shitless.
It's no surprise to learn via Craven's wikipedia page that the director also worked in porn, as the genre shares with horror a visceral reaction in viewers.
Numbered for the beast
Sexism in Wagga
The reach of Instagram continues to surprise me. At work our annual report this year showed a massive increase in the audience and, when I was provided with a mobile phone, I was encouraged to use the service to promote our activities.
This week I was surprised to discover the local newspaper had used a couple of images from my personal account on their website. These were attributed to my account name, yet it felt like a violation of sorts -- particularly the pic of my daughter. So I've set my account to private.
A friend tells me that Instagram's fine print for using the service includes claiming copyright of all images uploaded and potentially profiting from their use as stock photos. So I guess I'm lucky the media gave me any credit, especially since they haven't when I've sent them photos in the past. Then again, I've used their images occasionally without attribution too, which is a violation of copyright I believe.
Anyway, the practice of old media collecting material off social media to re-package as their own content is the beginning of the end for journalists. Since they've been re-writing media releases and given up researching stories, they're now going to be replaced by automated content.
The question is how long before the readers that pay for this content realise that they're also supplying it?
A friend tells me that Instagram's fine print for using the service includes claiming copyright of all images uploaded and potentially profiting from their use as stock photos. So I guess I'm lucky the media gave me any credit, especially since they haven't when I've sent them photos in the past. Then again, I've used their images occasionally without attribution too, which is a violation of copyright I believe.
Anyway, the practice of old media collecting material off social media to re-package as their own content is the beginning of the end for journalists. Since they've been re-writing media releases and given up researching stories, they're now going to be replaced by automated content.
The question is how long before the readers that pay for this content realise that they're also supplying it?
Richard Flanagan doco
Richard Flanagan: Life After Death from Jack Cocker on Vimeo.
My friend Anna recommended this documentary about Tasmanian author Richard Flanagan and it's beaut.
I've only read Flanagan's essay on Gunns for The Monthly, which is discussed around halfway, and it's got me interested in reading more of his work.
My burning idea
It’s a longing felt on return to our “real” lives, after the joy of being surrounded by people partying and embracing the 10 principles as a way of life.
It’s no wonder that “decompression” events are popular in many cities to reunite Burners but how else might we stoke the flames that are kindled with each Burn?
In the following I’ll outline a few thoughts and propose a way to promote the principles in our lives.
For many attending a Burn it is a transformative experience. Transformative experiences are sometimes described as Rites of Passage and traditionally mark a shift such as that from childhood to adulthood. The term is an Anglicisation of rite de passage, which was the title of an influential work by Arnold van Gennep.
Gennep identified three phases in a rite of passage: separation, liminality and incorporation.
Attending a Burn requires travel, which separates us from our daily lives. Liminality is often associated with an inversion of norms and I suggest that experiences at a Burn fit this description, whether it’s one of a range of activities or simply experiencing the gift economy.
For me the gift economy was a pivotal moment at my first Burn and one I’ve observed in others. That moment when you’re surprised by being given something creates good will and a desire to return the favour. Such unbalanced reciprocity is usually only is shown between people who already have a close relationship and has the effect of breaking down barriers between attendees at a Burn event.
It seems to me that Burn events would benefit from recognition of the last of the three stages: incorporation.
The traditional view of rites of passage, such as customs for recognising adulthood, saw the experience as fundamental to human growth. A child would leave their family, undergo a custom that reinforced key beliefs of their society and return to their people, who would recognise that a transformation had taken place.
The final step of incorporation is obviously not something we can expect from our “real” lives but it is one that can be promoted at a Burn event. At present those attending a Burn are greeted but often not farewelled and I think this would be a beneficial addition.
What I propose is that a group of ‘farewellers’ would encourage Burners to take the positivity of their experience back into their communities, particularly the gift economy.
I think an ideal mechanism for this would be farewellers arming each Burner with a variety of vegetable seeds and encouraging them to grow produce for a meal to share with their neighbours as a way of building their local networks and continuing to incorporate the Burner principles in our lives.
The idea would be that Burners go home, grow food and invite their neighbours over for a meal. This would encourage the growth of local communities, building trust and support among those who are geographically close to us.
This would promote some of the 10 principles in our ‘real’ lives and, I hope in doing so, keep the flame alive after the Burn.
Racism in Australia
Adam Goodes is a footballer who didn't back down when confronted with racism, so it's surprising to see the level of denial that has rippled through Australian society as a result.
I think Neel Kolhatkar has a wry perspective on this debate. I'd like to see him live but I'd want to be close enough to see his details. He's a funny guy.
Open hearts
It’s a weird assumption as it was my partner who initially changed our Facebook relationship status to read ‘Open’.
I remember feeling uneasy when it first happened. After she went away one weekend and I found the computer was still logged in to her account, I changed our relationship to ‘Engaged’ and was entertained by the mixture of congratulations and disbelief. She was very annoyed when she came home and changed the relationship status back to ‘Open’. It was, at the time, a minor disagreement but one completely in harmony with our relationship, which often doesn’t conform to expectations.
A bit over a decade ago, when she fell pregnant with our first child, I proposed to her and was surprised that it took a few days to get an answer. She explained that marriage would undermine her feminist principles. As a feminist myself I respected her decision and came to love her more for it, as I appreciate her perspective can be challenging at times. In fact, when we first met her views scared me. I’d never met anyone as far to the left on the political spectrum as her, despite going to a metropolitan university during the ‘90s.
During our courtship she pursued me for months and I still remember, after I was finally conquered, the electricity of brushing her smooth soft skin and knowing she was ‘the one’.
The idea there might be more than one is a reasonably popular one, judging by the number of people who have affairs. I mean, in previous relationships I’ve strayed. At one point I was juggling a few relationships, which was exciting but time-consuming and inevitably led to conflict and heartbreak.
I’m fortunate enough to be found attractive by a few people and, in part, it’s the idea that temptation can be enhanced by sneaking around that underscores her logic to make it an option to see other people.
Another attraction for her is resisting the social expectation of monogamy and it’s this non-conformity that makes my partner all the more attractive to me. She’s an original thinker and one who continues to inspire me.
Couples often quote Kahlil Gibran in their commitment vows, such as “Let there be spaces in your togetherness”.
It is clear to me now that our relationship takes a very liberal interpretation of his subsequent lines: “Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.”
I think our love transcends the constraints expected of relationships and, in many ways, it exemplifies our belief in valuing ethics over morals.
Nothing Is Useless outside Wagga
Last year I traveled to Lismore and experienced the Useless workshop which developed work for the first project and, in 2012, I contributed to a soundtrack that accompanied an earlier exhibition in Wagga.
I'm looking forward to seeing how it all comes together with a TARDIS-like console currently under construction for exhibition visitors to explore the various pieces of hacked and surplus gadgetry, while reflecting on obsolescence and consumerism within our capitalist society.
Memories were meant to fade
This morning I was musing on Facebook's Memories function. I really despise it every day when it suggests I have memories to view and share.
My sister calls it "Facebook's memory replacement service". I don't know why it bothers me but I concur with the sentiment in the film Strange Days (1995), where Mace says "Memories were meant to fade." It feels backward-looking to want to emphasise memories. I think it's a function of Facebook pandering to people's narcissism but maybe it's an extension of their data-mining?
The scene above from Strange Days above also features the "Right here, right now" used by Fatboy Slim to great effect, see below.
Modifyre
When I first attended Burning Seed there were a few hundred people. Then when I last attended Burning Seed there were a few thousand people. So it was fun to attend the Queensland regional burn event, Modifyre, earlier this month with only a few hundred. Above are some highlights.
Feather and Leaf at Roxy Gallery in Kyogle
On the way to the opening of Feather and Leaf, an exhibition led by Rebecca Tapscott which also features work by friends, I reflected on her exhibition in Wagga Wagga nearly a decade earlier.
Tapscott’s paintings share bold use of colour and landscape, often as backdrops for wry observations. In the artist statement on the wall in Kyogle she commented on the blend of colour and light, offset with an insight.
For example, at the 2007 exhibition at Charles Sturt University’s HR Gallop Gallery in Wagga there was a painting of a Bali scene in which a topless tourist shared the frame with a topless Hindi goddess. It captured a clash of cultures in a view still poignant from the bombings of 2005.
In the Kyogle exhibition this year there’s a painting of a large mob of crows flying above a landscape that reminds me of Wagga. In the artist’s statement Tapscott linkd this murder scene to the tally of women killed this year as a result of domestic violence.
Birds featured in the work of Tapscott’s friends and co-exhibitors Sonja Karl, Christina Reid, Jill Runciman and Erin Nolte. Painting dominated but other media were used, such as print. The greatest variety of mediums was demonstrated by Tapscott, who worked with ceramics in mugs and broaches, as well as a beaut metal cockatoo.
In her opening address, Ruth Tsitimbinis spoke of the local arts throughout the hills and valleys of the region. The diversity and variety in the birdlife in the exhibition formed a vibrant menagerie. The range of representations was highly stimulating.
Petrichor
This July the Wagga Wagga City Council building will premiere a collaboration that reflects on the role the surrounding region has played in inspiring creative work.
Poet Derek Motion spent much of his life to date living and studying in Wagga Wagga and the landscape has influenced many works in his published collection Lollyology.
Motion, a former director of Booranga Writers Centre, was winner of the 2009 Overland Judith Wright Prize and his work has appeared in journals, including Cordite, Meanjin, Otloliths and Overland.
“In many ways I am a product of Wagga Wagga and so is much of the poetry in Lollyology,” said Motion. “This project was an opportunity to link passages with the landscapes that inspired them and visually show the creative work within an environmental context.”
Working with filmmaker Jason Richardson, a video was produced for Wagga Wagga City Council that reflects on the region and its influence in Motion’s written work. “The idea was to link the landscape, particularly writing on the landscape, with the idea that it writes itself on the individuals who reside within it,” said Richardson.
Richardson is a graduate of Charles Sturt University’s Television Production course and lived in and around Wagga Wagga for about a decade. During that time Richardson became increasingly interested in the role of landscapes as an influence in creative work.
“It was rewarding to explore our shared experiences of the Riverina region, through the environment as well as educational institutions,” agrees Motion. “Thank you Wagga Wagga for the inspiration and thank you also to Wagga Wagga City Council for the opportunity to reflect, both within ourselves and now on a site at the heart of the region.”
Blue Mountains from air
Squarepusher on 22 May 2015
Squarepusher was technically brilliant. The visuals and sound were amazing, particularly the real-time projection mapping onto his reflective garb -- which looked a bit like an Olympic fencing outfit with hood and visor.
The glitch was over the top but, when he took to the stage with his bass guitar for the encore, his solo playing on the instrument also reflected this aesthetic as he tapped and slapped madly. It was then that his jazz influence became more obvious and it kinda made sense of the barrage from earlier in the set, when the speed of notes and rhythms were more akin to thrash metal.
He doesn't work with many melodies but does add some nice splashes of chords among the maelstrom of bitcrushing, feedback and sped-up beats. Variety came from nods to genres, like a 303 or rave-y synth and one dubby sorta tune.
Dunno why this was at the Opera House though. Sure they have a great PA but the place seems to be one continuous staircase with no dance floor. Again it seemed like a jazz aesthetic, where the audience were meant to stroke their chin and clap politely.
Kids watching Scott Pilgrim vs. the World
Last night my son had a belated birthday party of sorts. He'd been asking for a "pizza party" for a while and we'd settled on eating then watching Scott Pilgrim with a few friends.
I'd been hesitating on screening the film since we last watched it. The representation of open homosexual relationships didn't seem appropriate for me to share with other people's kids. That was my issue with the film, anyway.
I really like Scott Pilgrim a lot and remember excitedly thinking I can't wait to share this with my then video game-obsessed toddler. I've seen it a lot since then and appreciate the way it evenhandedly represents relationships while being bright and loud and funny.
The kids persisted in asking for Scott Pilgrim and I concluded that it shouldn't be an issue for other people's kids to see homosexual relationships in a movie. One kid loudly questioned the gay character and everyone told him to get over it, which was great to see. By the end of the film there'd been more talk about veganism than homosexuality though, so maybe diet is more of a taboo these days?
Sexist sketches
Facebook's newsfeed offers many treats for the eyes and brain, the latest being a series of sketches on sexism at the Mentlegen page.
I showed these to my daughter and returned to hear her mother exclaiming pride. It was nice to also see her then redrafting and improving on her representation.
Still lifes for bonus lives
My daughter has been sick and stayed home for a few days rest. Last night she was delirious, kept asking when the school bus was coming.
Yesterday she started drawing a picture of a Gamecube controller for her brother. She knows he likes Gamecube games and wants him to like her art.
It made me look at the controller and imagine the perspective and the spaces within the shape and how I'd draw it. So I did.
Yesterday she started drawing a picture of a Gamecube controller for her brother. She knows he likes Gamecube games and wants him to like her art.
It made me look at the controller and imagine the perspective and the spaces within the shape and how I'd draw it. So I did.
Is AI a sensitive subject on Facebook?
Hadn't seen this message before and it made me wonder if it was Facebook's AI being self-conscious?
Raptures with raptors
Above is a song I wrote last year. It was a bassline I developed after trying to figure out a synth line for a pop song.
When I recorded it for a Naviar Haiku project, I added the Replicant 'four bar repeat' preset and it became a different composition.
Then I remixed the result for another haiku project, leading to a dancier track with synth parts.
More recently I thought it would be interesting to try playing it live in a single-take recording. When the Disquiet Junto set a suitable project, I had a go and was disappointed with the result.
So I tried again with a jammier sorta approach, using the Jam Man pedal -- which simplified the riff.
It's interesting to see the evolution of this riff because I haven't used the original composition yet. I should go back and see what other directions it can go.
New moon
Been a while between blue moons. Well, a while since I posted about my song 'Blue Moon' anyway. The version above was recorded in my backyard the other week.
Oscar sings Phoenix Wright
Oscar sang another video game theme on the weekend. This is his take on the Pursuit theme from Phoenix Wright.
I'm hoping he'll try something from Luigi or Mario next.
My dad by Neve
Love how the reality in this picture is less accurately represented than the representation.
Gossamer Park in Leeton
Gossamer Park is in Leeton's outer suburb of Wattle Hill and was one of the last to be recorded in 2012 for the For 100 Years album.
Schmewound remixed it as a percussive workout.
Now another fantastic playground remix from Belgian producer KlanKman, who has previously reworked Dinosaur Park.
Hear the original Gossamer Park track here
Below is a track I made when I returned to the material in 2013 with my partner Jo.
Assembling an album
There might be enough new material for an album. I think it's almost there, a couple of tracks need another draft though.
There's a lot of variety on here, from orchestra arrangements to an electro-metal hybrid and a pop song.
I dream of Stephanie
Last night I awoke feeling guilty and panicked.
The ghost of Stephanie Scott was in my dreams and I knew I wasn’t the only person in Leeton thinking of her.
It’s hard to escape the conversations about her online, let alone on the street. The frustrating aspect is that, aside from it being a tragedy, there is little resolution to be found yet.
Every one has a desire to talk about it, which is good because everyone is grieving her for various reasons. Talking about it helps make sense of it and today my partner observed that, despite the anger of some sentiments being potentially provocative, the conversation on I Live In Leeton has been comparatively restrained. Even when people are calling for extreme violence, there has been space for people to vent their frustration with events.
Before I talk about Stephanie I need to declare that I can’t remember meeting her. She looked familiar in the photos I’ve seen, and I think I would’ve noticed her. She was a beautiful young woman and I must confess that I have a wandering eye at times.
My sense of guilt about Stephanie isn’t libidinous, it was from writing on social media. Thankfully I hadn’t stirred a flamewar with anyone overnight but I did wonder if the blog post I’d written didn’t say more about my desire to talk than anything particularly insightful.
The arguments I’d made about the jokey tone of the bridal headlines had troubled me. When my partner, again astutely, observed that the reason why she was shown as a bride was because that was probably the most recent photo of her.
Suddenly the callous nature of tabloid headlines became apparent. It wasn’t a slight on all women that a dead young professional woman had been described as a runaway bride. It was the nature of news narratives that they had to explain why this attractive woman was on the front page when she wasn’t one of the usual celebrity archetypes.
Stephanie was a complex archetype though. She was a bride, non-judgmentally I add symbolically at least, a virgin. And she had been denied one of the most basic dreams that a young woman can have in life when she was killed just a week before her wedding day.
Here it dawns on me that as a symbol for me, this attractive young woman could’ve been an advertisement for modern Australian life. Living in Leeton, this bride was one that I thought looked great. If I were younger and times were different, who knows?
And here is where Stephanie’s ghost enters my story. Last night as I was lying in bed next to my astute partner Jo and told her about my fright with blogging, she made an interesting observation.
Stephanie died at Easter and her story had resembled another famous Easter story. It was interesting for me once she observed, for only a week before Easter had I read Elizabeth Farrelly ask if Jesus wasn’t a woman.
Easter is a time of sacrifice stories and it seems remarkable that Anzac Day is held around the same time of year, because both are stories with sacrificial symbolism. I’m not suggesting Stephanie was sacrificed, only that her story resonates with me because her death seems to resonate at a time when other death stories are being told.
My partner said to me, as I lay in bed wondering if I could calm down and stop worrying about Stephanie, that there was a parallel between her and Jesus. And it occurred to me that many of the stories that people were telling about Stephanie would conclude that she was now with Jesus.
And, I glibly suggest, that Jesus and her would be happy together — because being a pan-atheist I also only know Jesus as a symbol. Most of what I know of Jesus, like Stephanie comes from what I’ve read and seen on TV.
Jesus and Stephanie were both seen by people after their deaths, said my partner. “Remember the story when she was first missing?” she asked. “That’s like Jesus being for gone from his tomb, because she was seen on the missing messages after she’d died — just like Jesus was seen by people around Jerusalem after he died.”
The ghost of Stephanie travels around town. In our conversations, our Facebook messages, and in dreams. The recent discovery of Stephanie’s burnt body was deeply disturbing. She will not get an open casket funeral and, from the little I know about funerals I gather this is a troubling thing too.
When the news helicopter was circling Leeton on the day of memorial picnic, I thought how great it was that the town was joining together to remember Stephanie and hoped it would provide some resolution for their thoughts of her.
I also wished I’d shown my support for everyone else in town and shown how much I appreciate their support. Just like I feel like attending Anzac Day to honour my dead, I felt I should’ve honoured her. The helicopter hovering over town days earlier had been one searching for Stephanie but now it was a model with a camera mounted on the outside to film the grief and share the story with the nation.
An image of the iconic Roxy Theatre appeared in my Facebook feed this morning. It has been moving to see the tributes for her, from the memorial outside the high school crime scene to the streamers and balloons which have appeared on buildings.
The sense of grief is palpable in town as well as being unavoidable in day-to-day conversations. I am grateful my children are not at Leeton High because when school returns there will be a strong response from people.
We’ve all been touched by her death and my sense of guilt made me realise the sense of entitlement I felt I had to her story. She was in my town. While Jesus died for our sins, I do not think Stephanie died for mine but I have learned an important lesson about social media.
Writing about Stephanie and feeling regret for doing so made me consider the practice of sharing an opinion in conversations but it also made me aware of how important these conversations are for people.
The archetypes we talk about, drawing on media particularly, offer us a way of discussing our fears and feelings. I wondered if my indignation wasn’t the result of misplaced guilt over thinking sexy thoughts about an attractive young woman who died horribly.
And in sharing these thoughts, in this blog post, I would appreciate if you will let this vent sit while I work through the symbolism of my words.
The ghost of Stephanie Scott was in my dreams and I knew I wasn’t the only person in Leeton thinking of her.
It’s hard to escape the conversations about her online, let alone on the street. The frustrating aspect is that, aside from it being a tragedy, there is little resolution to be found yet.
Every one has a desire to talk about it, which is good because everyone is grieving her for various reasons. Talking about it helps make sense of it and today my partner observed that, despite the anger of some sentiments being potentially provocative, the conversation on I Live In Leeton has been comparatively restrained. Even when people are calling for extreme violence, there has been space for people to vent their frustration with events.
Before I talk about Stephanie I need to declare that I can’t remember meeting her. She looked familiar in the photos I’ve seen, and I think I would’ve noticed her. She was a beautiful young woman and I must confess that I have a wandering eye at times.
My sense of guilt about Stephanie isn’t libidinous, it was from writing on social media. Thankfully I hadn’t stirred a flamewar with anyone overnight but I did wonder if the blog post I’d written didn’t say more about my desire to talk than anything particularly insightful.
The arguments I’d made about the jokey tone of the bridal headlines had troubled me. When my partner, again astutely, observed that the reason why she was shown as a bride was because that was probably the most recent photo of her.
Suddenly the callous nature of tabloid headlines became apparent. It wasn’t a slight on all women that a dead young professional woman had been described as a runaway bride. It was the nature of news narratives that they had to explain why this attractive woman was on the front page when she wasn’t one of the usual celebrity archetypes.
Stephanie was a complex archetype though. She was a bride, non-judgmentally I add symbolically at least, a virgin. And she had been denied one of the most basic dreams that a young woman can have in life when she was killed just a week before her wedding day.
Here it dawns on me that as a symbol for me, this attractive young woman could’ve been an advertisement for modern Australian life. Living in Leeton, this bride was one that I thought looked great. If I were younger and times were different, who knows?
And here is where Stephanie’s ghost enters my story. Last night as I was lying in bed next to my astute partner Jo and told her about my fright with blogging, she made an interesting observation.
Stephanie died at Easter and her story had resembled another famous Easter story. It was interesting for me once she observed, for only a week before Easter had I read Elizabeth Farrelly ask if Jesus wasn’t a woman.
Easter is a time of sacrifice stories and it seems remarkable that Anzac Day is held around the same time of year, because both are stories with sacrificial symbolism. I’m not suggesting Stephanie was sacrificed, only that her story resonates with me because her death seems to resonate at a time when other death stories are being told.
My partner said to me, as I lay in bed wondering if I could calm down and stop worrying about Stephanie, that there was a parallel between her and Jesus. And it occurred to me that many of the stories that people were telling about Stephanie would conclude that she was now with Jesus.
And, I glibly suggest, that Jesus and her would be happy together — because being a pan-atheist I also only know Jesus as a symbol. Most of what I know of Jesus, like Stephanie comes from what I’ve read and seen on TV.
Jesus and Stephanie were both seen by people after their deaths, said my partner. “Remember the story when she was first missing?” she asked. “That’s like Jesus being for gone from his tomb, because she was seen on the missing messages after she’d died — just like Jesus was seen by people around Jerusalem after he died.”
The ghost of Stephanie travels around town. In our conversations, our Facebook messages, and in dreams. The recent discovery of Stephanie’s burnt body was deeply disturbing. She will not get an open casket funeral and, from the little I know about funerals I gather this is a troubling thing too.
When the news helicopter was circling Leeton on the day of memorial picnic, I thought how great it was that the town was joining together to remember Stephanie and hoped it would provide some resolution for their thoughts of her.
I also wished I’d shown my support for everyone else in town and shown how much I appreciate their support. Just like I feel like attending Anzac Day to honour my dead, I felt I should’ve honoured her. The helicopter hovering over town days earlier had been one searching for Stephanie but now it was a model with a camera mounted on the outside to film the grief and share the story with the nation.
An image of the iconic Roxy Theatre appeared in my Facebook feed this morning. It has been moving to see the tributes for her, from the memorial outside the high school crime scene to the streamers and balloons which have appeared on buildings.
The sense of grief is palpable in town as well as being unavoidable in day-to-day conversations. I am grateful my children are not at Leeton High because when school returns there will be a strong response from people.
We’ve all been touched by her death and my sense of guilt made me realise the sense of entitlement I felt I had to her story. She was in my town. While Jesus died for our sins, I do not think Stephanie died for mine but I have learned an important lesson about social media.
Writing about Stephanie and feeling regret for doing so made me consider the practice of sharing an opinion in conversations but it also made me aware of how important these conversations are for people.
The archetypes we talk about, drawing on media particularly, offer us a way of discussing our fears and feelings. I wondered if my indignation wasn’t the result of misplaced guilt over thinking sexy thoughts about an attractive young woman who died horribly.
And in sharing these thoughts, in this blog post, I would appreciate if you will let this vent sit while I work through the symbolism of my words.
Remembering Stephanie Scott
Over Easter weekend I watched The Fall, an excellent BBC crime thriller. When news came of missing Leeton woman Stephanie Scott on Sunday, I immediately thought the worst but pushed the idea away as the conversations began about what might have happened.
The stories in the media over following days speculated she may have had 'cold feet' about her marriage planned for the following weekend. Such reports used the image of a runaway bride to frame the discussion of her disappearance.
The issue is as much about journalists needing new cliches as it is about inherent sexism. Rather than describe Scott as a teacher or a professional, she is presented as in a relationship. I understand the commercial imperative to make a story accessible to a wide audience but in doing so they are perpetuating dated gender ideas that make women appear to be the property of men.
On Facebook's I Live In Leeton page I wrote that "The best thing that could come from this is for Leeton Shire to declare that it will not tolerate any violence against women." Stephanie Scott's death has shaken the town and it's remarkable to see the number of yellow balloons, ribbons and streamers around Leeton, but the sexism in the telling of her story has shown to me that there is a way to go for equality between the genders.
Maybe this is sexist or even opportunistic but it is shameful that domestic violence is often overlooked or ignored while women are being attacked by people they know -- just as Scott would've known her own attacker. Obviously all violence should be addressed but the issue of domestic violence needs more attention to encourage people to report incidents and discourage it within our communities.
And, finally, as much as the Scott family and her fiancee deserve condolences, my partner observed that the murderer's family have also lost someone this week and they will receive much less support.
Aeropress
Now, I'm not writing this to promote addiction. I prefer coffee as a recreational drug.
I was looking for a review to share when I was promoting Aeropress to a coffee f(r)iend, when I found that Choice magazine weren't as impressed with the radical interpretation of plunger coffee. (Radical because the plunger works more like a hypodermic.)
Choice wrote:
A panel of five CHOICE staff sampled the resulting espresso, rating it poor overall. For comparison purposes, we prepared the same coffee in a plunger, which the panel rated OK overall.Four of the five said the Aeropress espresso was watery, while our lab expert Peter Horvath even had to make a "proper" coffee later to get rid of the acidic and unpleasant aftertaste.
At first I thought the magazine had missed that Aeropress produces an espresso-type coffee rather than a plunger-type, but they go on to acknowledge that "technically" the device fits the definition of an espresso.
So I wondered if they hadn't read the instructions, which focus on using water "80°C for dark roasts, 85°C for light" to avoid a bitter flavour. Then again, that quote in the previous sentence comes from Choice.
Now it occurs to me that maybe they did follow the Aeropress instructions, because they lead a first-time user to make a double shot espresso. So it's stronger than usual. This seems a strange decision to me but I've read that inventor Alan Adler drinks his brew this way, so maybe that explains it.
I've been experimenting with Aeropress and plunger coffee, giving both devices the same amount of the same ground beans and the same amount of the same temperature water. My results are that the plunger coffee tastes more bitter but that'd be because it steeps for longer, I guess.
I like my Aeropress but maybe the novelty will wear off.
Torchlight at night
Couple of pics from recent nights. I've been enjoying painting with light via time-lapse photography.
Cyclonic Whiz
Recorded a short video to share my favourite piece of playground technology with Playgroundology.
I think it's called a Cyclonic Whiz and it appeals to me because it's aimed at older kids, as you can see from the height you need to be to use it. As well as letting you spin around, it rewards users for their upper body strength by increasing the centrifugal motion.
March into the archives
This is a mix of seven videos recorded between November 2006 and April 2008. That coincided with many happy hours listening to the landscape, as I took a self-funded sabbatical with the birth of my daughter in June 2007. A year later I started working with the Murrumbidgee CMA.
I've been reflecting on that time a bit recently, as you can hear in this video I produced for ABC Open.
Naviar Haiku
I was introduced to Naviar Records via the Disquiet Junto. They're similar projects in setting weekly prompts for musical responses.
Naviar use haiku to stimulate tracks and intermittently release collections of the material. Above is a playlist of the tracks I've submitted.
This is sensational
I mean, if you play video games it is a sensational comment but, this guy's laugh is truly remarkable and infectious.
P.S. Okay, I get that it's a parody. Also just got that my friend Bernie has made a version that's a parody of the current Coalition government in Australia.
Almost an embrace
I was reading Realtime's review of Vic McEwan's installation at Wagga Art Gallery and thought I'd write down some thoughts I'd had while attending. The image shown comes from there, a pic of the installation credited to McEwan.
Shortly before I left Canberra earlier this century, there was a weird sort of arms race among the increasingly upmarket bars in the suburban shopping centres. They seemed to be outspending each other on bathroom renovations.
One near the house where I was leaving exceeded my expectations and transformed their humble pissoir into something approaching a liminal experience for me. It seemed as though patrons were required to piss on the walls of the bathroom itself, although it was more obvious when sober that only one wall had a glass layer and then a drain below. Subtleties are often lost on me.
Anyway, I still remember the magic of approaching the dimly lit toilet and feeling the luxury of beer flowing out of me in what appeared to be lavish surroundings. It was a moment I remembered when visiting Vic McEwan's Almost An Embrace installation at the Wagga Art Gallery.
The square-shaped trough sits in the middle of a darkened room. On the walls are projections of water twinkling as they descend in streams. Above the trough hoses hang and streams of water descend. Your eyes slowly adjust to the subdued lighting but not enough to feel as though you can see everything. There isn't much to see, aside from a ramp to avoid tripping on hoses and a hum from the behind the movable wall lining one side of the gallery that suggests a computer.
My kids aren't particularly accustomed to art galleries and had little resistance to getting wet. They didn't have much luck triggering the work though. I had a better understanding of the circuit that needed completing, showing them the trick. They explored it a little more, finding the changes in the key of the audiovisual content but not making the leap to playing the trough like an instrument.
By coincidence, after we left the exhibit we met Vic McEwan on the stairs. I shared my observation that the kids hadn't been encouraged to engage with his work and he replied to the effect that a good instrument doesn't give up it's secrets easily. It led me to think about the inevitability of art being misunderstood by an audience in all but the most commercial of mediums.
Downstairs, in the main part of the Wagga Art Gallery's viewing areas, was another exhibition that used similar technology to trigger audiovisual content. The Wired Lab worked with students from the Karabar Distance Education Centre during their quarterly program that provides positive face-to-face social interactions and collaborative learning opportunities between students and specialist teachers.
This exhibition presented the outcomes of these workshops which explored the nexus of art, science and sound. The colourful panels had triggers for audiovisual content embedded within them. It took me a few minutes to make the connection between the technology mounted on the wall and the wires hidden in the artworks, but once I showed my kids they raced around looking for all the triggers.
While both Vic McEwan and The Wired Lab's installations used similar technology and had triggers that weren't immediately obvious to the audience of one adult and a few kids, it was interesting to see that the kids lost interest in the content once it started playing. For them it was enough to find the trigger, before racing on to the next one. It made me think the content in both installations could be more engaging.
Which leads me to the idea I have to repurpose Vic's infrastructure. The running water reminds me of a urinal but it also leads me to consider how all water is recycled and how there's a similar process that happens with music. As there are only a limited combination of notes that sound pleasing, music is a limited system that recycles itself. I'd like to see Vic's fountain trigger music from a variety of musicians, as a way of commenting on how music flows like water through us all.
My eyes look back
There’s a photograph of my father’s mother as a girl. It’s a sepia-toned picture of her immediate family out the front of their house. In it you can see her broad brown eyes looking back. Her mother also has brown eyes and they’re like my eyes. My sister has them and our sons too.
These brown eyes are a dominant trait in my family. My daughter has the same chocolate-brown irises. They’re eyes like my grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s in the photograph. The sepia adds a richness to the brown tones and underscores our family trait.
The photograph also shows my grandmother’s father, my great-grandfather. Something about him reminds me of the man she would marry. The roundness of the head maybe? Definitely the beard, which is funny because my partner likes me to wear a beard too. I have a head more like my mother’s though, I think.
My bearded great-grandfather is remembered by my father as a grumpy and distant figure, which seems apt. My kids probably remember their grandfather as a distant but lavish figure. He wears a beard too. His brown eyes are framed by grey hair but they have that crinkle around them that darkens when smiling. My aunt has that too and my uncle did though I can’t think of seeing him smile.
My grandmother died when I was young, so I can’t remember her eyes. Photography is a technology that allows me to reflect on my family history across decades. In a similar way social media reflects my family from across the world. When I visit Facebook I see my family from across the world. It reminds me of that line ‘A friends’ eye is a good mirror’.
The old photograph also shows my grandmother’s brother, who has written a book on his research into the family tree. It’s quite fascinating to read about the interests of my forebears and achievements and consider the shapes of our lives. To look over history and to select moments from their lives that resonate with me, or share something of my own experience. It’s a form of ego-centric curation of facts that supports the story of me.
At university an anthropology lecturer said that kinship is a social construct. I’d guess that family history is too. In a way we collect our families by choosing who we recognise as part of our own history. I like this idea because my family has given me siblings after the divorce of my parents. Although relationships between our parents aren’t recognised, my brother and sisters and I share brown eyes.
My siblings and I may not have eyes like my grandmother and great-grandmother in the photograph but the colour is a common feature we share, like our history of growing up together. As time passes I appreciate more and more this history as it is a pleasure to understand ourselves through each other and continue to share our family ties largely via technology in the present.
The photograph also shows my grandmother’s father, my great-grandfather. Something about him reminds me of the man she would marry. The roundness of the head maybe? Definitely the beard, which is funny because my partner likes me to wear a beard too. I have a head more like my mother’s though, I think.
My bearded great-grandfather is remembered by my father as a grumpy and distant figure, which seems apt. My kids probably remember their grandfather as a distant but lavish figure. He wears a beard too. His brown eyes are framed by grey hair but they have that crinkle around them that darkens when smiling. My aunt has that too and my uncle did though I can’t think of seeing him smile.
My grandmother died when I was young, so I can’t remember her eyes. Photography is a technology that allows me to reflect on my family history across decades. In a similar way social media reflects my family from across the world. When I visit Facebook I see my family from across the world. It reminds me of that line ‘A friends’ eye is a good mirror’.
The old photograph also shows my grandmother’s brother, who has written a book on his research into the family tree. It’s quite fascinating to read about the interests of my forebears and achievements and consider the shapes of our lives. To look over history and to select moments from their lives that resonate with me, or share something of my own experience. It’s a form of ego-centric curation of facts that supports the story of me.
At university an anthropology lecturer said that kinship is a social construct. I’d guess that family history is too. In a way we collect our families by choosing who we recognise as part of our own history. I like this idea because my family has given me siblings after the divorce of my parents. Although relationships between our parents aren’t recognised, my brother and sisters and I share brown eyes.
My siblings and I may not have eyes like my grandmother and great-grandmother in the photograph but the colour is a common feature we share, like our history of growing up together. As time passes I appreciate more and more this history as it is a pleasure to understand ourselves through each other and continue to share our family ties largely via technology in the present.
Riverina Fresh Gold Promo
Below is my photograph that won me the bounty shown right.
Knights stock my favourite Arcadia Farm salt bush lamb, so the voucher won't last much longer than the Knights Own chocolate-dipped oranges and toffee-dripped dried apple pieces. Their Moroccan-style nuts are quite amazing.
Oscar sings
My son Oscar is crazy for video games. He loves playing them, he loves watching other people play them and he loves learning about them. I bought a Nintendo Game Cube when he was two and it's been a big part of his life since.
Today he had a 'mental health day' where I let him stay home from school so we could spend time together. I asked what he'd like to do and, after rejecting playing video games, Occy suggested recording video game themes in the style of Smooth McGroove.
Above is Song of Storms from Ocarina of Time, which is one of the Zelda games. It's the second track he recorded today.
The first song Oscar wanted to record was the Sanctuary Boss theme from Earthbound. We've been talking about this game recently after I mentioned that Hirokazu Tanaka was visiting Melbourne soon. It turned out that Oscar is a massive fan of Tanaka and asked me to pursue an interview for Cyclic Defrost. However, Tanaka-san doesn't speak English and my Japanese won't get us very far, so it's not likely happening. Hopefully Good Game will talk with him.
Below is the version of the song that Oscar covered. I'm curious to hear more music by Tanaka as Occy tells me he has a musical signature in his work.
Photography workshop in Leeton
Reminds me of times I've seen guys plug in a laptop to give a presentation and it had porn visible. It happens but not to me.
Photo by Talia at The Irrigator
Disquiet Junto projects
The Kimchi video posted earlier is the 25th video I've made for the Disquiet Junto.
The Junto is a weekly activity that I enjoy. The tasks vary but some have been very successful as music for me.
Below is a playlist of all my Junto recordings. This weekend I recorded an orgasm.
Below is a playlist of all my Junto recordings. This weekend I recorded an orgasm.
Kimchi hyperlapse
Below is a photo of the kimchi after two days in the fridge. I ate this for lunch today with apple, celery and capsicum. Sesame oil too, it's a must.
Powerful stories
This video outlines studies on the impact of narratives, to show how a story creates a physical response in the listener which can influence decision-making.
I find this fascinating as I spoke at Dream Big in 2014 on role of storytelling in public relations.
Driver Unknown
Screech of car tyres on a Saturday night
Sickening thud makes me turn on the light
Pick up the phone, dial an ambulance quick
They’ll let cops know someone’s been hit
Go to the road, see a catastrophe
Body on bonnet, smashed through windscreen
Car door is open and engine is on
Whoever did this has already gone
Shattered bone
Broken home
Police report driver unknown
Cars must throw punches ‘cause this looks a brawl
Mounted the kerb and crashed into a wall
Lying limp with a smashed in head
No blood is bleeding, he’s already dead
Shattered bone
Broken home
Police report driver unknown
That accidents happen does not sound right
When they’re avoided with proper foresight
How can you hope to make sense of this scene?
Drunken driver of a brutal machine
Shattered bone
Broken home
Police report driver unknown
Driver unknown
April 1st seems early this year
“I want to be Schrodinger’s Prime Minister. If no one can see what I’m doing maybe I’m doing a great job. Maybe I’m killing cats. Who knows?"
Almost thought it's April 1st when I found Google News linking to a satirical piece on the Prime Minister. It's responding to his decision not to allow journalists to cover a recent trip to Iraq.
Lego love
Op shop buy
Might've been an unwanted wedding present that someone couldn't consider getting rid of for a few decades.
I wanted it for the splades, which I think are a great invention.
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