PICTURE LOCKED

Just locked off the final episode (9) of Puberty Blues series 2. Bittersweet feelings mixed with a deep and very satisfying sigh of relief and exhilaration...

It is finished.

UNDER THE INFLUENCE

It does get better than this... just not very often...

CABIN FEVER

Long days cutting with Dany Cooper (who is awesome!). Ep 7 finished, about to lock off Ep 8. Ep 9 still to go...cabin fever setting in.

WRAPPED

We wrapped shooting Puberty Blues 2 last Wednesday. Spent the last day shooting as a 2nd unit / reduced crew of only about ten or so. It was a perfect way to end a little more relaxed and free than 'main unit'. What we shot wasn't really 2nd unit material, it was actually the last three scenes of the last episode of the series. I woke up the next day with bitter sweet feelings. I love shooting, even when it's stressful and everything seems stacked against you, I can always  look around and see where we are and what we attempting to do and I just get really excited by it all! But it definitely felt like it was time to stop though. I've been away from my family and friends in Melbourne for nearly 5 months and I feel like my time in the world needs to come to an end.

That said I felt a saddness for those wonderful characters I may never get to see again. I may never stand in the Vickers lounge room and watch Judy and Martin bicker or witness Vonny and Ferris fuck with each others minds. I may never sit in Sues bedroom and overhear Sue and Debbies most intimate conversations. I may never get to hang with Gary or Cheryl or laugh stupidly with Roger and Pam.

The characters of Puberty Blues feel so alive to me. I cant help but feel that even though we have packed up the props, dressings, cameras and lights that they are still there in those places, their lives continuing on regardless of whether we are there to capture it or not. I miss them all.

POSTCARDS FROM PUBERTY BLUES 2 #5

FIRE WORKS

I took the first photo below at Matauri Bay nestled just below the northern tip of the North Isalnd of  New Zealand in January this year. On a warm summers night I watched a  bunch of kids setting off fireworks, having the time of their lives. I sat on the beach with my kids in amazement at how wonderful and free spirited it all was and how in Australia today this would be unheard for kids let alone being able to make it happen in a film.

I've shot quite a few fireworks sequences and trying to get an actor anywhere near a live firework is near impossible. The process ends up being so regulated with safety concerns and restricitoins (all for good reason) and the sequence I believe always ends up feeling a little 'sanitised'. But after alot of planning and tests I was so happy last Friday night that I was able to replicate that image (and a whole lot more!) not only as a photograph but as part of filmed sequence. And I might add in a highly controlled and safe environment. Satisfying!

Matauri Bay, New Zealand, Jan 2013

Kernell Beach, Australia, Aug 2013

POSTCARDS FROM PUBERTY BLUES 2 #4

TWO DOWN, THREE TO GO

Have finished Eps 1 and 2 of Puberty Blues 2. And now deep in pre for my second block where I'll shoot the final episodes 7, 8 and 9. Never shot three episodes at once before. Shooting two at once is tricky enough, three is a mind fuck... feeling a bit rooted.

I heart Kurnell.

UNDER THE INFLUENCE

I already loved 10CC's I'm Not In Love (who doesn't?), but after seeing this 'making of' I love it even more. Although I doubt it will ever appear in Puberty Blues, the song has been an important  tonal/musical touchstone for composer Stephen Rae and I.

Immersive, melancholic, pre-digital awesomeness!

IF NOT HERE, THEN WHERE?

FOG OF BRUNSWICK

Beautifully foggy ride in from the Airport early yesterday morning. I love Melbourne in winter.

POSTCARDS FROM PUBERTY BLUES 2 #3

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.