RECCES

Searching for Gallipoli...

SOME DAYS...

TRIP DOWN

Two day drive back home t Melbourne. Making the first thing we saw, the last...

IF NOT HERE, THEN WHERE?

IF NOT HERE, THEN WHERE?

TATHRA

Roadtrippin with the family from Sydney to Melbourne via the south coast road...  Stopped for the weekend at one of our favourite places Tathra.

As much as I like Sydney, after five months away  it's SO good to be back in Melbourne!

IF NOT HERE, THEN WHERE?

PERSPECTIVE

My Dad's funeral was during the week. It was actually a really good day if you can call a funeral 'good'. It was nice meeting some of Dad's friends who I didnt know and hearing stories about him. It was also cool to re-connect with some of my 'half' brothers and sisters. My brother Leigh who is currently touring with his band through Europe couldn't make it to the funeral. He wrote something for me to read at the service about his memories of Dad and how although Dad was absent physically for much of the time, he still had a strong influence on our lives beyond mere genetics.

Dad was essentially a traveller, a musician and an enthusiastic photographer. Leigh said that Dad  taught him many things not so much by direct teaching but by Leigh 'watching' him, for example, "Dad never taught me how to 'solder' electronics, but I could do by the age of 10…".  I found this really interesting but wondered... How could a man who on the surface seemed so disconnected from us have such a strong influence in shaping our lives and interests?

In the lead up to the funeral I looked through some old Video 8 footage I shot back in the day (1992). Dad and I were on our way back (to Newcastle where I was studying) from visiting my brother in Melbourne. I had my video camera with me and I filmed a lot of the road trip. With my brother's thoughts about indirect learning and influence on my mind I scanned through a section of footage that I had totally forgotten about.

Dad loved a road trip but would never drive for very long without having to stop and take photographs, it used to annoy me because it could add hours to a trip. Perhaps to help deal with the boredom this time I decided to film him while he was taking photographs. It was quite wonderful and a little eery watching the footage back. He isn't teaching me directly how to take photos but I'm observing him and chatting while he snaps away.

I cut a short sequence from the footage and showed it at Dad's service as a way of illustrating what my brother was talking about.

Essentially, when it comes to photography at least, I'm that guy now. The idea of travelling and documenting is ingrained in me. It's become an integral part of my personal life and process as a filmmaker. And much to my families distress on road trips I'm constantly pulling over to photograph something from the side of the road.

I also love seeing Dad and I goofing off and just hanging out like a father and son should. It was a rare moment of togetherness and perhaps we are happy because we are both doing what we loved the most.

I know Dad died thinking he could have been a better father and that he had failed us in many ways. Despite my brother and I having made peace with him, he still lived with heavy regret. If I could tell him anything more now I would say he was a lot more successful than he or I had thought. My brother and I are both living lives exploring our creativity and passions as a direct result of his influence. I know he was 'proud' of his sons and I'm not sure it would have remedied his regret, but I hope it might have eased it a little.

The morning after the funeral I woke up and I really missed Dad. Even though he had been absent for most of my life, Dad was still 'out there' in the world and I had a connection with him. Now he really is absent and I feel I have lost something.

I'm glad I feel this way though. It would be worse if I felt indifferent.

Thanks Dad for 'showing' me how to take photographs. It's a gift you gave me that I enjoy every day. I'll always think of you when I see a 'white bridge' and maybe I'll even pull over and photograph it for you.

DAD

My Dad died last Friday. Not a huge shock as he was 86 and had been quite ill for many years. But still a little unexpected as he had been quite ok in the last few months. Not like last year, I’ve never seen anyone so frail and confused as he was then. In the coronary unit connected up to machines and drips, I just thought it was kind of inevitable.

I took the photo above just before leaving the hospital for the last time last year. I was sure it would be the last time I would see him alive. Holding his hand, I had never been so aware of how alive someone ‘feels’. I was conscience of Dads skin, muscles, bones tendons and the warmth of the blood pumping. It felt like his hand ‘hummed’ with life.

Dad was ultimately a warm and friendly man with a kind heart. But at the same time he was frustratingly complex, full of regret and panic for a past he couldn’t fix no matter how much he tried or wished.

I also wished alot of things could have been different (along with my other family members). I wish he didn’t leave my Mum, brother and I when I was five. But I also wish he didn’t grow up in a 1920’s orphanage in Paramatta. A bleak introduction to the world to say the least. I wish he had parents of his own who showed him love and how to love. I wish he was able to mend the lifetime of heart ache he must have experienced as a result. Dad so desperately wanted to love and be loved, but never knew quite how. A bit like wanting to read, but never being exposed to words and books let alone being taught.

I feel lucky to have come to terms with him as a person, there was no malice or frustration in the end. I was glad I was able to spend some time with him while he was in hospital last year. We were able to chat and say all the things that I’m sure alot of people don’t get the chance to say to each other before they die.

One of the last times I saw my Dad I spent an hour or so sitting with him in the nursing home he was moved to from the hospital when his condition improved.

Dad talked, alot! He seemed to hate silence or perhaps he spent so much time alone, anytime with anyone was an opportunity to commune. He wanted to talk this night but rather than go over old ground I told him I was more than happy to sit and spend 'time' with him without a commentary. He had an old radio tuned to a religious station and we listened to a brass band warble through some old hymns. It was great.

When I was a kid I used to twist my Dads ‘comb over’ into a ‘horn’ that sat on top of his head. I thought it was hilarious. He thought it was pretty funny too. Sitting there in the nursing home, listening to the crackly hymns on the am radio, I couldn’t help myself, I just had to reach over and curl his hair up once more into a hair horn. I giggled and so did he.

Dad, the last time he visited us in Brunswick a few years ago aged 83. And below where he felt most comfortable in front of a piano, aged 30(ish).

I LOVE BRUNSWICK

Wintery afternoon walk around the neighbourhood. I have lived in Brunswick for the last fifteen or so years and even though it has been gentrified a fair bit (since this film over 20 years ago)... I do love the flecks of old school gold that still shine through.

HOME AND AWAY

Being away from home and family for extended periods of time sucks. Years ago I had lunch with a director who had just come back from shooting his second feature film in Germany. He said to me "...as exciting as you think being a director might be, in the end the reality is you spend huge amounts of time by yourself in hotels rooms far away from family and friends..." It seemed like a weird thing to say at the time, I was desperate to make a feature or anything longer than a short, but the honesty of the comment has always stayed with me.

Since then I've found myself on many occasions in that exact situation with his comment ringing in my ears. As much as I love the exploratory and immersive aspect of filmmaking and the fact that it has taken me places and given me experiences that I could only have dreamed about at that lunch ten years earlier. Alot of the time the reality is your distant from the people you love. And I must add, not just physically, but also mentally and emotionally.

This isn't a whinge, I love what I do too much to ever really complain, it's just a post about one of the flip sides. I know alot of directors, actors, cinematographers, producers and all crew feel it too at times. Not to mention other friends who have work that takes them away from home for long periods of time. The work / family balance is always a trick to get right, but when you are immersed in a project in another city or country, the balance is near impossible to get right.

Last weekend I flew back home to Melbourne for a night with the kids. The highlight was sitting wedged between the two of them on the couch watching Star Wars. The next morning while Ollie was a birthday party, Rosebud and I had waffles at one of our favorite cafes Luncheonette. The photo below of her laying down she is demonstrating to me how she can count to hundred... It takes a fair while for a six year old to count to a 100. I think she is at 67 in the snap. Precious moments.

IF NOT HERE, THEN WHERE?

BOOTH

Slow posts of late... Firstly I got a new laptop so I've had the joy of transferring, updating, re-finding, sourcing software and plug-ins etc. All seems to be working fine now. But seriously, screw you iTunes. Surely there is a simpler way to transfer a music collection from A to B. Still missing huge chunks of my old library... argh! And why can't you export your playlists as a group and not individually. Dull. Also, I've re-located to Sydney and in pre-production for Puberty Blues 2. Let the games begin!

LAST WEEK

A day pre-shoot in Sydney for Puberty Blues 2. Wandering the streets of Elwood and Brunswick and a couple of chilled days on the peninsula south of Melbourne over Easter.

SLEEPERS

A couple of years ago I went to the Vladivostok film festival with my feature film Last Ride. I had been there a few years earlier with my short film Cracker Bag and it always remained a strange and very surreal place in my memory. This time I really wanted to explore a lot more of the city than I was able to the first time. I made contact with a photography student who lives there and he drove me around for days exploring the outer suburbs, translating, meeting locals and generally looking much further afield than what a film festival introduces you too.

I have a whole bunch of photos from this trip I've never really shown anybody. Some photos I took one night of some skateboarders ended up in the 2012 CCP Documentary Award, but the rest are just taking up space on a hard drive unseen for the moment.

I just came across this shot I took while exploring an abandoned building. The building was in the middle of the city which is congested noisily with cars and pedestrians but inside the building it was surprisingly quiet and still. The ground was littered with rubble and used syringes.

On one of the upper floors I was startled to find a couple of kids sleeping on a window sill. At first, I really thought they were were dead as they were so 'lifeless'. But as I stood still I could sense their breathing, slow and faint. I'm not sure if they were stoned, drunk or just tired. I thought they looked so peaceful perched on the window, soaking up the sunlight, blissfully unaware of me or the four story drop to the ground just behind them.

I'm pretty sure this wasn't their 'home' but I did feel a little like an intruder. I wasn't sure if I should take a photo. I felt that in some way I might be stealing some of their solace. But of course the documenter got the better of me.

I only took a few of quick shots, edging closer with each frame, trying to get close enough to see them properly, but far enough away not to wake and disturb them. Each step crunched broken glass underfoot and in the big empty space the normally quite shutter on my camera seemed to heavily 'clunk' and echo through the empty shell of the building.

Later when I downloaded the images I saw that the boy sitting up was almost cradling his friend in his lap, the detail below shows his hand resting gently on his friends cheek.

It's a moment and a photograph that has stayed with me. In all it's sadness and it's beauty. I hope these two had found a moment of warm escape and were dreaming deeply of different lives in different places.

I've often thought of them and wondered what they were up to and what they might be doing now. I hope they are both well. They seem like perfect characters for a film.