tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10545099179550309232024-03-14T23:30:05.865+11:00this highway homeart from an industrial townRoss Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-43350000966464913592009-12-14T19:44:00.000+11:002009-12-14T19:46:55.777+11:00north<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTnRcWkib4COfP48CJhGLZf3DX-XjFxLETiF3Eyk3lTtptH2GbvV9-dAvcXsWv3f12s_gyyXVu7iuLZhS4PTYutUd8Rz6raWztpHi_sG1QiSiyA36YNRALt6z2AT_Uehl6Kt0jn8_7BQ/s1600-h/-0009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTnRcWkib4COfP48CJhGLZf3DX-XjFxLETiF3Eyk3lTtptH2GbvV9-dAvcXsWv3f12s_gyyXVu7iuLZhS4PTYutUd8Rz6raWztpHi_sG1QiSiyA36YNRALt6z2AT_Uehl6Kt0jn8_7BQ/s320/-0009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415010294224332546" border="0" /></a>crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07897696506779480308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-73552766273407912692009-11-23T22:30:00.002+11:002009-11-23T22:33:29.522+11:00West<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxZKypd9gXae4hAveu9gEwiJmCGkS6uvAQ38xSOfEKwSGGWM479gb4X-632yAqidc3y__FBu9wtW5zPT0MmmDtRyYbazA5Z6EZtAmqELN0av_PFs5xzCpvWMDPVw0HIBsZVCSXgtWO7PT/s1600/DSC01361.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxZKypd9gXae4hAveu9gEwiJmCGkS6uvAQ38xSOfEKwSGGWM479gb4X-632yAqidc3y__FBu9wtW5zPT0MmmDtRyYbazA5Z6EZtAmqELN0av_PFs5xzCpvWMDPVw0HIBsZVCSXgtWO7PT/s320/DSC01361.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407260346381237682" /></a>Stephen Oakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535881346705567192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-85012532557815567502009-10-22T19:06:00.002+11:002009-10-22T19:18:35.852+11:00Spring! Warmth! Oah!<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGfzzwb0Tent2sy0o4MgKu7YMETNAaRtOHD4rF5ePNHEmkviGnZ4br2PKxWYhNmTcIMn7oDui4NK1EcAPIRPJ9pREnEhDFahrVmpI4SbWb9QcutmMZCX_92Gx1UjlJWvXakXwPLEkopQ/s1600-h/20090622-_DSC1831.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGfzzwb0Tent2sy0o4MgKu7YMETNAaRtOHD4rF5ePNHEmkviGnZ4br2PKxWYhNmTcIMn7oDui4NK1EcAPIRPJ9pREnEhDFahrVmpI4SbWb9QcutmMZCX_92Gx1UjlJWvXakXwPLEkopQ/s320/20090622-_DSC1831.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395333288959714914" border="0" />The project follows the seasons - watching the light, enjoying its evolution. This is light in another sky - up in our mountains - but signals the changes. The winter city is enjoying magenta skies. Aaaah thankyou spring.</a><br /></div>crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07897696506779480308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-60357159888703737362009-10-03T16:24:00.002+10:002009-10-03T16:32:47.385+10:00Light In The Winter City<div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ErBo2niEBkghbUGAIXkDZb7U2m_maaW6hDzTyW7HQ7ZMzsQJhFj91iYtjPTI8LFaL-6quaI3bsrs6c9o9d4YvNPO4jP8dySXbXK87k9GRk2OXl_oslyp9jtqy4K0C24ITdu3SpLBWeGv/s1600-h/DSC00950.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ErBo2niEBkghbUGAIXkDZb7U2m_maaW6hDzTyW7HQ7ZMzsQJhFj91iYtjPTI8LFaL-6quaI3bsrs6c9o9d4YvNPO4jP8dySXbXK87k9GRk2OXl_oslyp9jtqy4K0C24ITdu3SpLBWeGv/s320/DSC00950.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388256296866487250" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">M O U T H T O M O U N T A I N</div></div>Stephen Oakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535881346705567192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-54984508186140946002009-08-25T20:20:00.003+10:002009-08-25T20:36:00.543+10:00The WorkThe project sleeps below?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-YSgFgIw_jZfB2gMRUdx_3OAn8Z_yhWZKrDsY-AyN9oF3M3nEHX3q7RDShiS1FfGuSi7duhOnG_WfrepEQfJXfGOE8-gCJh19uyMUWuWzDjSnLy6MkqwP7x9MOKip3hIw25zfHJYRQXW/s1600-h/P1110200.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-YSgFgIw_jZfB2gMRUdx_3OAn8Z_yhWZKrDsY-AyN9oF3M3nEHX3q7RDShiS1FfGuSi7duhOnG_WfrepEQfJXfGOE8-gCJh19uyMUWuWzDjSnLy6MkqwP7x9MOKip3hIw25zfHJYRQXW/s400/P1110200.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373848036276574962" border="0" /></a><br /><br />You can wake it up.Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-36311531325761460292009-08-25T20:10:00.002+10:002009-08-25T20:23:55.210+10:00a wintery road back home<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhBnUKneVAFUR_bAhI_222JEpPFoC2VAR-MZx499g_ChVr7ZWr3xBWW0sdBQXwaneFo_qw9uuNEtKoi7fMv77lbwTa6yXX9fQ360Pv9d4bHcOk67p2WGKCGH3s06WgaG70qtd5M2lwWs/s1600-h/20090622-20090622-_DSC1836.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373844794834170290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhBnUKneVAFUR_bAhI_222JEpPFoC2VAR-MZx499g_ChVr7ZWr3xBWW0sdBQXwaneFo_qw9uuNEtKoi7fMv77lbwTa6yXX9fQ360Pv9d4bHcOk67p2WGKCGH3s06WgaG70qtd5M2lwWs/s320/20090622-20090622-_DSC1836.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">it is true. it is right and it is true.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;">swallowed by the day to day, the project sleeps below and it waits.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">winter is a difficult time in the winter city. it was to be the vehicle. the platforn. winter was to be the pallet.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">such a soft yet harsh light. throwing shadows long and low. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">may we continue to conspire to capture the shadows the glow of green of yellow of blue and poke and prod at this town. for its answers. for its truth.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></div>crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07897696506779480308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-73547584780919189562009-08-24T21:26:00.005+10:002009-08-24T21:51:33.118+10:00The End Of The Road<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Zd_BMM8vZSqlNFRMkT0PBFAiq_ejZhTPxfqaPeoUm5QKvcGA8HEP3AefVeb03wLOzJQ2B4ZxjzBrJmNi9n0Z6Dn_953kwbvftSSsfsPq826XGSwJC5bB0FcOyZk902IMv0aXjcEGSSwi/s1600-h/DSC00524.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Zd_BMM8vZSqlNFRMkT0PBFAiq_ejZhTPxfqaPeoUm5QKvcGA8HEP3AefVeb03wLOzJQ2B4ZxjzBrJmNi9n0Z6Dn_953kwbvftSSsfsPq826XGSwJC5bB0FcOyZk902IMv0aXjcEGSSwi/s320/DSC00524.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373490941389473250" /></a>The highway is still there. especially on Thursdays. I am enjoying the space in Melbourne now, and realising what deadness exists in this town down the road. What a strange identity it has to me. I dislike it at the moment - for all the wrong reasons probably. Inward lookingness, dead heart. A mutated materialistic sportsbar suburb mall city with heavily staffed parking inspectors and right wing newspaper editorials. ooooohhh bitter...Of course I am projecting a lot of my own deep prejudice onto it, a lifetime of experiencing it's sameness. And it seems appropriate that this project has slipped into the imagination - as if the town has swallowed it and made it a lovely distant dream. However, as absence makes the heart grow fonder, this town NEEDS this idea to be realised, and it will become stronger... There's great people here, great artists, and they are my friends.... Now... meditate... Go Deeper and find the idea.. go out and sound it again. And find the next part. The City Awaits.Stephen Oakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535881346705567192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-83643516217528949662009-06-21T20:42:00.006+10:002009-06-21T21:03:49.158+10:00Southern Solstice Break<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbwmYylsQcOWN7lYpCg9XBfqcE45SLhSMrw1eWs2k7hEOlVBDkH0CAF5vewH26AEjWXLUBmwFBxgDRm76xJ7DKERPtdLgDacL1pvmEKVupQlf4O4tf7VDsOqTLD9ThwnuxKy5SfNuROYs/s1600-h/cap011.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbwmYylsQcOWN7lYpCg9XBfqcE45SLhSMrw1eWs2k7hEOlVBDkH0CAF5vewH26AEjWXLUBmwFBxgDRm76xJ7DKERPtdLgDacL1pvmEKVupQlf4O4tf7VDsOqTLD9ThwnuxKy5SfNuROYs/s320/cap011.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349733210364984706" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-xIm4i_H31hU6yKJNOKiKL4yzlb7ia_5aHdw6-SshcrVXOTopIbVdS86N7xSK2npF3UVqXsWuxMXxYBTY9g_evp3RcwBznoFXl9RztCba_kJD2UsqI_B59B7T6JlX22rZpdcAETX25Wrt/s1600-h/cap006.bmp"><br /></a>The seed has grown into a sapling. And it will be left alone for a couple of weeks, after what has been an amazing time of creativity. Ideas, Ideas, Ideas. This development of this project has been unique to all the artists involved, it's methods, experiences, insights and shared common ground... the town, the region. The region with it's final bypass stage put through only the other week. The Highway Home can take you on down to the coast - you don't even have to make a choice, until you reach the insta-warehouse shopping cul-de-sac at the end. "Furniture galore" makes itself clear at the end of this bypass highway. The beauty of the hills is showcased with this new road, a view once owned by Andrew Loyd-Webber, until he gave up his Von Guerrard painting of the Barabools for a million dollars or so. The painting is in the Geelong gallery, but does not include the bypass cutting through.. This is what the people wanted, for as long as I can remember. There will be less trucks going through the town, but we will still want our cheap chinese clothes from Big W. This town is now sculpted around by the bypass.<div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div></div>Stephen Oakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535881346705567192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-1116127451937471642009-06-15T12:46:00.007+10:002009-06-15T13:02:23.767+10:00Finding money<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlyGWyhHfqGCJu22IVTWdna876BtBXbp53jNapWKCm74KceCSlS9kOQWzx9d3aZUIfko2YHmy2DkDm6pT7H60qbCNEXvrDrymBq9HFIn-gxCEpOZYn9pyYd0dRq32E6Ljr1T4BRjP9ImBt/s1600-h/DSC05574.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 360px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlyGWyhHfqGCJu22IVTWdna876BtBXbp53jNapWKCm74KceCSlS9kOQWzx9d3aZUIfko2YHmy2DkDm6pT7H60qbCNEXvrDrymBq9HFIn-gxCEpOZYn9pyYd0dRq32E6Ljr1T4BRjP9ImBt/s400/DSC05574.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347383423011561090" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I had a dream that I was picking up money on the street. I mean a lot. We were walking and I was finding these wet notes, under rocks and in little spaces that nobody else would see, but were really obvious to me. After the walk, I was really happy, we were amazed at how little effort had been put in to discovery these notes. Not a fortune, but enough to make tomorrow seem easy. I went on website to see what it means....</span></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> here is the quote.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:Arial;" >"To see or win money in your dream, indicates that success and prosperity is within your reach. Money may represent confidence, self-worth, success, or values. You have much belief in yourself. Alternatively, dreaming about money, refers to your attitudes about love and matters of the heart. It is frequently a symbol for sexuality and power."</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Okay.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">So...</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">That's ah... Fine.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I should add - I did wake up.</span><br /></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-34537960598587044422009-06-15T12:26:00.004+10:002009-06-15T12:44:31.208+10:00Space and time and action<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23Pb8Kswz3MWDLeeFnDR17lB6n7AsdVF-7NQYK8ANmH4UusevBVa_D5Ty9AmwV_aI4q-H4bNDbGkak_g6dr0mR3IDPAsaebZd6CAZF00t8-ozvntYk8W7E5LOaqiQNebN4iKq_sj97YF7/s1600-h/DSC05570.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 597px; height: 341px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23Pb8Kswz3MWDLeeFnDR17lB6n7AsdVF-7NQYK8ANmH4UusevBVa_D5Ty9AmwV_aI4q-H4bNDbGkak_g6dr0mR3IDPAsaebZd6CAZF00t8-ozvntYk8W7E5LOaqiQNebN4iKq_sj97YF7/s400/DSC05570.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347379604498056274" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The time spent away from a project can either invigorate or destroy it. Objectivity is everything to the development of a work.<br /><br />Right now we are spending five or six days away from the project and then on the seventh - which happens to be the Thursdays we are meeting and constructing. The discipline of time out of the room is interesting.<br /><br />Both Stephen and I are eager to get back in there. We have ideas during the week and we have notions to explore, but the limitations of hours in any given Thursday means that we have to focus quite in order make anything that is beautiful and quick. (long sentence).<br /><br />The point is - this process - it's good.<br /><br />It means that the making of the work is methodical, special and worthwhile. Which natuarlly brings me to using football as an analogy.<br /><br />During the season - our football teams play once a week. We enjoy this because we can focus on the game completely. It becomes a special time. In Europe football teams play in a variety of competitions at once and so they play several times a week. The great thing is that you can see the games regularly and more frequently, but the thrill can never be the same. It's a routine, rather than a ritual. What HWY has right now is a ritual. Our process is thinking - meeting and creating. Listening back and re-constructing or re-thinking. This routine, this ritual - this is the right way to make this piece. And if it's not well - what can I say? It feels like it is right for us, right now. Space and time and action. This is what theatre should be.<br /></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-64655456009075442072009-06-09T21:05:00.000+10:002009-06-09T21:08:27.880+10:00the ocean doesn't want me today<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnksVl5DuYYTtNTcUdcl60X_mr2FCLNUTCZIQN549G-Z4BbVLtM34HFc2zFPUT-5Jak8dSrEmjAQDioNC-EuHlD1xmjwoieL5t2YvmUS0NfhmUUDFpDfTmo_r4mWmrVodEH3PMTP3JvMI/s1600-h/_DSC0002.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345282595144862098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnksVl5DuYYTtNTcUdcl60X_mr2FCLNUTCZIQN549G-Z4BbVLtM34HFc2zFPUT-5Jak8dSrEmjAQDioNC-EuHlD1xmjwoieL5t2YvmUS0NfhmUUDFpDfTmo_r4mWmrVodEH3PMTP3JvMI/s320/_DSC0002.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"> winter skies in the winter city. <br /></span><br /></div>crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07897696506779480308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-59238759092661782562009-05-29T14:09:00.004+10:002009-05-29T14:26:00.228+10:00Go Away to Fall in Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NNjsyB4IqJ86bclEoxLRG_a6mA_oXrzKtFvYaHhAgh4OWLa4-YXNlmLOmVAJkNK-Ocl3WJX-K9V5_1k0Rrz-wIZpPHyTA5_DxHsSwvqrWb45qdf_6buoLHRDTKemlJMO7I5sOC_rtdPR/s1600-h/Work.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NNjsyB4IqJ86bclEoxLRG_a6mA_oXrzKtFvYaHhAgh4OWLa4-YXNlmLOmVAJkNK-Ocl3WJX-K9V5_1k0Rrz-wIZpPHyTA5_DxHsSwvqrWb45qdf_6buoLHRDTKemlJMO7I5sOC_rtdPR/s400/Work.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341096419096826146" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">How terrifying. Walking the streets with a recording device. I thought this was going to be easy. Twenty years ago, this was easy. But yesterday Stephen and I found the whole experience quite confronting.<br /><br />It was eleven am and you could have shot a cannon down the middle of the city. People were absent and the whole place looked like a set design. Wind and slurpies on the foot path. We second guessed everyone we saw, making up excuses as to why not to ask anybody any questions. <span style="font-style: italic;">"He looks to busy"</span> -<span style="font-style: italic;"> "They look too angry" </span> -<span style="font-style: italic;"> "She doesn't want two men asking her questions."</span><br /><br />We decided shops were the best place to start. A quieter environment. If the place was empty then maybe they would be happy to have us in the joint.?Our question - "<span style="font-style: italic;">Have you ever been in love in this town?" </span>was received with a mixture of bemusement, concern and interest.<br /><br />One or two people didn't want to reply at all. But one girl came up with a great answer -<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Never in this town... You've got to go away to fall in love."</span><br /><br />She laughed.<br /><br />She was great.<br /><br />We took our raw stuff back to the Alcoa studio space.<br /><br />On the way back I realised how much we were asking of people. They had no obligation to us and for us to be asking about love in a public place was really more confronting for them than it could possibly be for us. The gift of participation had been granted to us today. We spent an hour and a half cutting the stuff together into a song with piano, trumpet and some beautiful loops. I sang a simple duet with her sample and we loved the result. Happy, giggly and sad.<br /><br />Stephen and I will take the copy of this recording back to the girl next week. It was a great day.<br />It was full of tension, ambition and a miraculous conclusion. This was truly a love - experience.<br /></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-40384115194446082322009-05-28T09:12:00.003+10:002009-05-28T09:29:53.344+10:00the age<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrXCn7TZpWy6Ut2WtEywL7HRJcJiezY08NyBknJmqinPFd7KHWFrbQCZ_xwkxKFUOkcENBoH7KDk3DZt_GMs4pjpE-2jKhKRKwBQ_exLr5S8aw2hEGDBAHGo10V3ABdFrnunb6bLAa7Zq/s1600-h/ControlAltDelete.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrXCn7TZpWy6Ut2WtEywL7HRJcJiezY08NyBknJmqinPFd7KHWFrbQCZ_xwkxKFUOkcENBoH7KDk3DZt_GMs4pjpE-2jKhKRKwBQ_exLr5S8aw2hEGDBAHGo10V3ABdFrnunb6bLAa7Zq/s400/ControlAltDelete.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340649957179278386" border="0" /></a><br />Shameless self promotion or just informing your mates of your life?<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />I was in the age newspaper on the weekend. I think it's silly to tell people, but then when you don't and your friends find out that you were, then they say you were silly not to tell them. Either way - it was in black and white and now in cyberspace.<br /><a href="http://www.theage.com.au/news/entertainment/arts/in-an-unscripted-moment-the-seen-is-set/2009/05/21/1242498866789.html">http://www.theage.com.au/news/entertainment/arts/in-an-unscripted-moment-the-seen-is-set/2009/05/21/1242498866789.html</a></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-91350262094083150132009-05-28T08:32:00.005+10:002009-05-28T09:02:43.811+10:00Music, words and whispers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4VtiEZG0aw0PqhPUZXqhyphenhyphenstDutOFXwBbkcIeRv5ZSsIhNbaX9PGn18gs4hQqsNxL2ZPbmkqDXnstfvskSXPo2Bqsp8pGNQgD4sg2mOfwHtmKjJq_7gwwkt9E1tZZ121ZUzdADS2d9p16/s1600-h/P3250750.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4VtiEZG0aw0PqhPUZXqhyphenhyphenstDutOFXwBbkcIeRv5ZSsIhNbaX9PGn18gs4hQqsNxL2ZPbmkqDXnstfvskSXPo2Bqsp8pGNQgD4sg2mOfwHtmKjJq_7gwwkt9E1tZZ121ZUzdADS2d9p16/s400/P3250750.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340636587986271442" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I heard the garbage trucks today. A satisfying sound, the rubbish needs to be taken away, we need to recycle and re-use. Today we are going onto the streets to interview people. It reminds me thisis how I started a hundred years ago in community radio. I think this project is quite similar in many ways, it is taking a pulse and broadcasting. Music, words and whispers.<br /></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-13171271174695467812009-05-23T16:03:00.004+10:002009-05-23T16:23:08.545+10:00All Moments lead here..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjG20FN1WrOns5EoIrNKH3d57dtFXQS94IfLk136E1FgsLIOzRAFKym2KyWc_a6-IdZrvtOCgPLhyKBleUl8xCyeKoM_3716L_v11vEX3MGkqqjahQkmPDI1QptL2swLbRk-uAJ0Yv4oP1/s1600-h/22052009479.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjG20FN1WrOns5EoIrNKH3d57dtFXQS94IfLk136E1FgsLIOzRAFKym2KyWc_a6-IdZrvtOCgPLhyKBleUl8xCyeKoM_3716L_v11vEX3MGkqqjahQkmPDI1QptL2swLbRk-uAJ0Yv4oP1/s320/22052009479.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338897871825884930" /></a><br />Listening to songs. Creating Songs. Mr Mueller is a very good songwriter.. What a delight to work with him. I bought an old tape deck from my favourite store - cash converters. It was $12 bucks.. I hooked it up today. It sounds great. it's a Yamaha. I used to lust after such a model. Full auto-reverse, dolby b & c noise reduction. I can use it now to listen to old songs... some of my old songs. Wow, i've been listening to something to a piece of mine from 1997. Was it that long ago... Pre digital recording at home.. for me anyway. Man I've earnt my stripes with studio technology. Are the songs back then more interesting, more experimental, more explorative.. I can't answer that.. I got bored after one side.. I was surprised as to how many words I had put into the "songs". Are they still relevant to me. They are a record of my feelings, emotions, outlook. There's despair, There's beauty and textures. There's a wide palette of sounds generating from the studio tool. Things haven't changed, really. You still kind of write the same songs..Stephen Oakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535881346705567192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-33020281441160813662009-05-22T10:00:00.007+10:002009-05-23T17:54:28.743+10:00The Ghost Writer<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRojSdr2qg7P4Cl9vSPAAQZqlf-8LB8gk-KWe0bkq0uCLkK2pLpy4AJTafpsm_BODyYA4PazdPLRO7ga15V-eMx2l52LGW2yz6O7MPbTvxr2nGyrNWKx_ug38LpI_WvoSzlNY37-v6V2BO/s1600-h/P1020037.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 391px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRojSdr2qg7P4Cl9vSPAAQZqlf-8LB8gk-KWe0bkq0uCLkK2pLpy4AJTafpsm_BODyYA4PazdPLRO7ga15V-eMx2l52LGW2yz6O7MPbTvxr2nGyrNWKx_ug38LpI_WvoSzlNY37-v6V2BO/s400/P1020037.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338432947142064066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">A Play Reading of </span><span style="font-size:130%;">The Ghost Writer By Ross Mueller<br />Directed by Lucy Freeman<br /><br />Featuring:<br />David Whiteley, Georgina Capper,<br />Natalie Carr & Kevin Summers</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Saturday 30 May, 2009. 3pm </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Plaza Room The Arts Centre on St Kilda Road. </span><br />General admission is by $5.00 donation.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I am so thrilled to be directing a public reading of the re-write of the Ghost Writer. The fact that the play premiered on the MTC main stage in 2007, and the playwright elected to keep working on the material into 2008 is nothing short of inspiring. I believe if all plays in the contemporary Australian cannon underwent this detailed and responsive reworking, our repertoire would be the stronger for it.”</span> Lucy Freeman<br /><br />This script is available for sale through - Playlab.<br />Go to the <a href="http://www.playlab.org.au/catalogue/index.php">http://www.playlab.org.au/catalogue/index.php</a><br />for details on how to purchase your copy.</div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-17695044728515392852009-05-21T20:41:00.006+10:002009-05-21T21:08:30.819+10:00Take It Easy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX0UGlQFHanaTFedlcyuEpW8anBV2c0qPkXv_wqwsw_b6dro2qE-6UEDHQHlmHdz0Zu1PbCN-2WTH7kPpsFuh_ebV1iZ_LUYrbnvlLOvFDb4s5tEjvwRwULrVOwDRbHi9pafFbR3ZZa31X/s1600-h/P3250792.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX0UGlQFHanaTFedlcyuEpW8anBV2c0qPkXv_wqwsw_b6dro2qE-6UEDHQHlmHdz0Zu1PbCN-2WTH7kPpsFuh_ebV1iZ_LUYrbnvlLOvFDb4s5tEjvwRwULrVOwDRbHi9pafFbR3ZZa31X/s400/P3250792.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338232067171129906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">This was another good day of work. Is it supposed to be like this? Not in the past. There's usually some speed humps. The only speed humps we seem to have experienced are from the outside. For instance, the financial rewards of this experiment are not exactly overwhelming so far. Don't tell anybody, but I think this is helping. Because we haven't the money to work on this full time we have correctly focused on working methodology. How do we work together? Good question that I am still trying to answer. I think today is a good example.<br /><br />We watched Jackson Browne and The Eagles on You Tube.<br />"Take It Easy."<br />We recognized what they were doing, the good, the bad and the boring. Take It Easy is one of the most unchallenging musical compositions ever penned by a human.There are some clever lyrical twists, but structurally, there is not a lot to write to Homer about. Three or four chords carry the bulk of the song and the live version that we watched featured a big jam on two chords at the end. Now, numbers of chords don't define greatness, but beats do.When it's straight ahead and mathematical like int hat West Coast sound, it either works or it stagnates. In this case - it does both.<br /><br />So we went into the room with a guitar for the first time today. We laid down the basics of what we saw in cyber world and then we warped the chords to suit ourselves and Stephen added his unique loops and creaks. I wanted to play guitar <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>piano on this song. The piano makes it easier to write words, the keyboard takes you there some how. Our song is called "Country Song." There are some gaps, but we have a significant portion of a snappy one liner of a song.<br />The structure is right and the develoment is rapid.<br /><br />We got coffee at lunch time and we were finished by two in the afternoon. We are working at a very civilised pace. We are not working more than two hours in a stretch. Then a break and then some more work and there is always a self imposed deadline. I think this is good. It's making sense. An industrial town liek this is all based around time. Clock on and clock off, this is exactly how we should be making art for this project.<br /><br />Loving it. Work. Review. Work. Take it easy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZ-rsYlL1OOxe5IwFEJSx3KvfwM0hireubre-n0r8BQXXz86VhbnQuyZJFdHREyh8ZMOWhxAN3C9UzB7k9cnWlsxA6j18ocRYy6A6jF-qVfWAato87gN7YCQEmqoA0zn-Xt24qmg84NtH/s1600-h/P3250770.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 492px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVZ-rsYlL1OOxe5IwFEJSx3KvfwM0hireubre-n0r8BQXXz86VhbnQuyZJFdHREyh8ZMOWhxAN3C9UzB7k9cnWlsxA6j18ocRYy6A6jF-qVfWAato87gN7YCQEmqoA0zn-Xt24qmg84NtH/s320/P3250770.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338231160980935058" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-62224416198408480782009-05-20T15:39:00.004+10:002009-05-20T15:47:18.973+10:00electric light<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRgHAsRQPEMxUBlK0HPYgkeMMqWSunRM34sek6laxQnt8yBsirvPa9PWPx4z25Gt65-RwXC9Q2wogJMAbz2qeejZmaFab2pIndzYku0vLHkW34-h0_dIeoh0cMm-20ZF8lF0YtCapuuc/s1600-h/_DSC0054.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337776882792609282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRgHAsRQPEMxUBlK0HPYgkeMMqWSunRM34sek6laxQnt8yBsirvPa9PWPx4z25Gt65-RwXC9Q2wogJMAbz2qeejZmaFab2pIndzYku0vLHkW34-h0_dIeoh0cMm-20ZF8lF0YtCapuuc/s320/_DSC0054.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div> </div>crickethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07897696506779480308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-65758484358218529532009-05-20T10:12:00.003+10:002009-05-20T10:30:02.034+10:00..whats he building in there...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCgr2fiKrddkuEnWUCJxedLhMa5apZwMTvbapQ4JTDcgdU4ULkJWXRBSFgSD6zlbwzKOBvXxoY_FBAD3eOF1eiB__We5hEqagdKRy-BS2v7wV6D2CVMDt2Irixki_nbG4MpdcbTTiWdDS/s1600-h/_DSC0050.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337695844877424802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCgr2fiKrddkuEnWUCJxedLhMa5apZwMTvbapQ4JTDcgdU4ULkJWXRBSFgSD6zlbwzKOBvXxoY_FBAD3eOF1eiB__We5hEqagdKRy-BS2v7wV6D2CVMDt2Irixki_nbG4MpdcbTTiWdDS/s320/_DSC0050.jpg" /></a><br />it was all there prior to this....<br />variables: a project and a bunch of like minded humans and the portal is opened.<br />like it.<br /><br />cricket.Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-61147220855138625462009-05-18T22:00:00.003+10:002009-05-18T22:25:36.618+10:00City of Lost Children<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZsqS47QJofEv6XAyGA83uW9c9yY_D8NVNpAxyVteqQlMrEd39Wbi-XTrMd6NPd21SMqClcq1YRsb_DR5Qwf9a1YXmoP3gHgRZBKubvZTycciKx30b_TrTsRC-bEV5B6aZBe8DPiFCfXz/s1600-h/07052009468.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZsqS47QJofEv6XAyGA83uW9c9yY_D8NVNpAxyVteqQlMrEd39Wbi-XTrMd6NPd21SMqClcq1YRsb_DR5Qwf9a1YXmoP3gHgRZBKubvZTycciKx30b_TrTsRC-bEV5B6aZBe8DPiFCfXz/s320/07052009468.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337133046166367682" /></a>Friday. It's knock off time in the winter city. Cricket and I head off to the north, the area known as Nth Shore. I used to work here - 20 years ago, at a venue everyone in this place seems to: The Ford Motor Co. I was thrust into a night world, an afternoon world, a male world. they sponsor the Footy team, you know. Cricket and I both started getting excited by the light whilst constantly being buffeted by a north westerly wind, one that makes your tripod move around. It caused my video to have some random panning. We stop in amongst all the shoreline activity. There's not much room for you here if your not exporting woodchips, phosphates or fossil fuels. Somehow we feel anonymous as we get around in that Jeep. But conspicuous as well.. What is that guy doing filming into an empty flourescent building as the dark clouds roll behind that amazing pivot phosphate stack - <i>he's obsessed with placement of the stack.</i> The smoke is going out towards the bay. They only do this on days where the wind takes it away, a local historian only told me last week, as I sat interviewing him for the Murmur project I am involved with. Cricket has an amazing lens, which gives the perfect wide angle without distorting it. The light fades more and we must hurry around to the refinery. The activity seems more sinister, the sounds and wind more worrying. But, as artists in this industrial town, the time becomes exciting. We experiment with video settings and take footage up the road and into the heart of the wild looking Sci-Fi edifice of the Shell. A car pulls in next to us down the short road placed like an infrastructure afterthought in front of the oily megaworks. It's a great place to pull off . You can see the broken pipe taking used water out into Corio Bay. I loved the night city and pipes of Shell as a kid, as I spent week in Corio with one of my relatives. We run out of time - but we will be back. I receive a text from Cricket over the weekend as she reviews her visual bounty: Oah shit. I have the city of lost children in my screen. No hope for a happy ending in these images... god this is fun.<div><br /></div><div>Indeed it is. Thankyou Ross, thankyou cricket for the opportunity of a lifetime</div>Stephen Oakeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535881346705567192noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-42197560531590396422009-05-18T09:36:00.003+10:002009-05-18T09:43:18.421+10:00Pleasure of Distance<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxObf7m2bs9-litmE2QiG4jqyc0FacIEup6tkBV4JjrBLS2xeRcWejkPiSZNAjTx1zj155AwSnyp3NVjX-e9ON07K4VQJl5NIF9GUrAP6RGe6c4TTY7NHy2ltFQnB9osTs2-8slJrFG6vF/s1600-h/P3200733.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxObf7m2bs9-litmE2QiG4jqyc0FacIEup6tkBV4JjrBLS2xeRcWejkPiSZNAjTx1zj155AwSnyp3NVjX-e9ON07K4VQJl5NIF9GUrAP6RGe6c4TTY7NHy2ltFQnB9osTs2-8slJrFG6vF/s320/P3200733.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336942290998394658" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I listened to Magnet in His head last night and didn't recognise the song from the week before. I really enjoyed the new version. The distance in a process is great. Time away is just a beneficial to the out come as concentrated work. The audience is coming at the work like this - with little information and fresh eyes and ears.<br />Backstory means nothing on the night if you're notbeing engaged in the moment.<br />Let this be a lesson to me.<br />RMRoss Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-78013869768436442812009-05-18T08:44:00.005+10:002009-05-18T09:33:44.774+10:00Another win<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqxfybQsDGYtwycdeloqzGsvb51POMvSmv5edgb-dvB9MAwh_BDs0R4gIvugCAwIF2j5rBTyyDDaqTM8yWzr9k-WzzGKDF0y6iOmXJ-dezUuRKFtVNPhCThhaiF34KciLVVSRwcW5CDAp/s1600-h/Photo0094.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqxfybQsDGYtwycdeloqzGsvb51POMvSmv5edgb-dvB9MAwh_BDs0R4gIvugCAwIF2j5rBTyyDDaqTM8yWzr9k-WzzGKDF0y6iOmXJ-dezUuRKFtVNPhCThhaiF34KciLVVSRwcW5CDAp/s320/Photo0094.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336938301864935746" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">The Cats had a win on Saturday. North Melbourne drove the long way home. It was a cold afternoon on the Gary Ablett Terrace and I enjoyed every frozen minute of it.<br /><br />I have been watching the football from the same spot in that ground since 1988. Before that I used to go to the game with my father and sister and sit in the stand. But as a man I have become one of those old men who has seen the ground develop and the game speed up in front of my very eyes.<br /><br />Gary Ablett Junior is clearly our best player. I remember seeing his father playon this very same ground. A very different player, but this is a different time. Junior is a more complete footballer.<br />I saw Senior play against Essendon and he kicked fourteen goals in one game. Amazing performance, we lost. I saw him kick nine goals in the grand final with one astonishing snap from a boundary throw in - we lost.<br /><br />Junior gathers possessions like Scanlons footy cards. He's the go to man. He's the premier on-baller for the competition. It's not his job to kick the goals, he sets them up, but when he does have the chance to kick one - it's a lock. He doesn't miss. If Junior kicks three for the match - we win. If he has forty possessions - we win. The father was great but the son is more complete.<br /><br />We have our own place. Not too many other clubs can say that and with this place comes an identity. The Standing Room used to stretch around the entire ground. Today it is the smallest component of the stadium but it is still here and it is named after Junior's dad.<br /><br />When we started standing - it was a hot February day. We were at a practice match - Geelong and Hawthorn or Melbourne, I can't remember. But it was an empty terrace. Over the years it has filled up and we are being squeezed out. The weather has gotten dramatic. It has hailed, it has rained and it has blown us away. It has been dusty and full of cigarette smoke. VB cans and pie wrappers. New gravel and old blundstones. A bloke has dropped dead in front of me at the end of a big game and we have only secured one premiership from six Grand Final appearances... and I support this club. I was there. At each of the losses and I was there for the one win as well.<br /><br />The win is great, but it's the experience that makes the success worthwhile. It's no good waiting for the song to start before you go out to buy the jumper. You make a choice and stick. Loyalty is a much more invigorating journey than a casual interest in success.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhluQE64KqNMJy3YX7uSLLnnqYPilWOTWqV2wfHp3sxKiqCoEWgh3DJuk_aFmBKMZtpNs5togElXeDQLFjwVFvqIbx8eAUoyLptMftIDZxnALuC_4IGblMocXK6GzSQAhc7xA7wXmeIBu7a/s1600-h/Photo0100.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhluQE64KqNMJy3YX7uSLLnnqYPilWOTWqV2wfHp3sxKiqCoEWgh3DJuk_aFmBKMZtpNs5togElXeDQLFjwVFvqIbx8eAUoyLptMftIDZxnALuC_4IGblMocXK6GzSQAhc7xA7wXmeIBu7a/s320/Photo0100.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336939134497879410" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-55764505262262312482009-05-14T22:01:00.002+10:002009-05-14T22:05:42.984+10:00after midnight<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUn7-C4zctoIXAlyTpWd3bN7SLYBZ9p3GczRIKSi4sG8cUBPlFvq4Jnpti0j-hkQK1eeGIotBcXActnBmf2oBwF_NctwEWf26Gn-eYvih51IFTwbkc9a68fvE2SBzHwXj7JE-B00GN52JR/s1600-h/P3250801.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUn7-C4zctoIXAlyTpWd3bN7SLYBZ9p3GczRIKSi4sG8cUBPlFvq4Jnpti0j-hkQK1eeGIotBcXActnBmf2oBwF_NctwEWf26Gn-eYvih51IFTwbkc9a68fvE2SBzHwXj7JE-B00GN52JR/s320/P3250801.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335649474937712482" border="0" /></a><br />Nothing good happens after midnight.<br />But I thought it was going to be better than this.<br />...<br />we need a country song.Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-67021412302070233542009-05-14T21:42:00.005+10:002009-05-14T22:01:12.344+10:00magnetic breakthroughA good day today.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;">We reviewed the work we had made so far, made progress notes and decided to keep some and ditch some stuff. The most exciting thing is agreeing on what we liked. This is when you discover how compatible you are as collaborators. The bits that you both love - the bits you both want to do a little dance to - the bits you agree just don't really work. When you are feeling the same ups and downs then you are in the right room.<br />After the first little debrief we started work on reshaping <span style="font-weight: bold;">Magnet in His Head</span>.<br />I had written the words and Stephen had written some great Heart Attack and Vine style guitar, bass and drums. We had both liked this stuff very much but today - we were trying to see how we could do it live.<br />It began by working out the chords on the piano. From this simple step Stephen laid a very fine and urban beat right down across them and a new journey began. We started stretching ourselves and by the end of the session we had a much better song. It's smooth in stead of brutal.<br />This is exciting because I think we are working in contradictions in this song and that is why this is good. In theatre the opposite reaction is the most insteresting choice. If a character says "I love you" and the other character says "I love you too." We are not interested. We want the last reaction. "I love you" - how about.... "Really?.. I'm in love with a goat."<br />This analogy has little to do with Magnet - suffice to say - when you have sad words - you can sometimes use happy music and vice versa. Obvious I know, but I think we did this today and found the right path home. Ironically we both felt this could be a song to start the show with - I knew it! We now have approximately four ideal songs to start the show.<br />More beginnings.<br />This is a good day.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Progress notes</span> Thursday, 14 May 2009<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">HATE TO BE YOU –</span><br />Needs to be even cheesier and light weight.<br />More brass and bass.<br />Karaoke.<br />VISUAL - Delivered in various on line expression tools.<br /> Screen grabs<br />“I would hate to be you, But would it kill you to be me?”<br />Action - re-record at Stephen’s place.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">DEAF AND DUMB</span> Hey Stephen - stretch out the bell loop and bring the bass line more to the forefront in the cacophony.<br />Hey Ross - Dialogue is needed.<br />VISUAL – A community of shopping trolleys.<br />Effects box for piano.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">PROLOGUE 2</span> Send Garage Band to Stephen.<br />Melodica live solo.<br />Space Bar attack on the song.<br />Live vocal and recorded vocal. Live piano over the top.<br />Need a bass line.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">TWO KIDS</span><br />Ross to write up as three way dialogue.<br />Narration – girl and boy.<br />Recite it live – space bar and Stephen - ambient guitar.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MAGNET –</span><br />Dm Am section<br />First person.<br />Magnet in my head.<br />Bb<br />The lights are on, there’s something cooking on the stove.<br />This back yard is lonely waiting for this highway home.<br />The lights are on - I left something on the stove.<br />Every one is sleeping while you’re driving this highway home.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFF0yXHB-TeKvl3BQrxwrRhRMSmYr7zwUFm0X0P3jUDu93Maed8sU3RIJi-JZPga-ODdyYVQkmQzpZtHaFD0geXkiiYHh_yjhk68fbfMz6I3ydc8IPXOAfKbHpGyeJ60sht67kIG6VuHNf/s1600-h/P3200734.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFF0yXHB-TeKvl3BQrxwrRhRMSmYr7zwUFm0X0P3jUDu93Maed8sU3RIJi-JZPga-ODdyYVQkmQzpZtHaFD0geXkiiYHh_yjhk68fbfMz6I3ydc8IPXOAfKbHpGyeJ60sht67kIG6VuHNf/s320/P3200734.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335648161658536610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1054509917955030923.post-67793581973800214702009-05-12T20:12:00.004+10:002009-05-12T22:21:59.164+10:00The Winter City<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDFBf_T44G8xjB_a6wTiqfabZSKxjGDG0XpM9dVzkKzePJjTJQdP3usN0dGUvLk5KtdWAJnmZlDhf3zDNgCYuCrLXYWTgue9HZL9vXwxK0Kq1VTbVGao08Rz5cp7RHpj7EUYkje_Eb_CH/s1600-h/hh1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDFBf_T44G8xjB_a6wTiqfabZSKxjGDG0XpM9dVzkKzePJjTJQdP3usN0dGUvLk5KtdWAJnmZlDhf3zDNgCYuCrLXYWTgue9HZL9vXwxK0Kq1VTbVGao08Rz5cp7RHpj7EUYkje_Eb_CH/s320/hh1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334879177116385522" border="0" /></a>Today I wrote a pop song. I sat down and tried to write something short and catchy. It reminds me of Elvis Costello and that ‘s a good thing.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hate To Be You</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(This is the obligatory chorus)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;">“When you’re so beautiful </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You don’t know what the darkness means.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I would hate to be you, </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I would hate to be you,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> And you would kill me to be me.”</span></blockquote><br />I think it could be the start of the show. But I will probably change my mind by Thursday. I called Stephen to see if he was around to see if he could drop by the house to listen to the new act of musicality, but he was in Melbourne. He takes his dog to the vet in Werribee. He asked me what I was calling about and I didn’t really have an answer except to say that I was hoping he was going to be around so he could have a listen. I thought how lucky I was to have found a new friend, not just a collaborator, but somebody I could call in the middle of the afternoon. Of course I didn't tell him that. I just asked him what he was doing and he told me he was in Melbourne. But I just said that...<br /><br />He said he has written some music also. Which is great. He is sending it through tonight.<br /><br />He said this project is like somebody or something has lifted the pressure valve on something that had been bubbling away for a long time. I know what he means, there doesn’t seem to be a right or wrong in this process, it’s just collate and collect and release. That’s good, the direction is defining the project. Russian dolls. We're getting closer.<br /><br />********<br /><br />I’m not feeling optimistic today.<br /><br />********<br /><br />It’s cold and I’m financially challenged.<br /><br />*******<br /><br />That said - I walked for an hour down Pakington Street. This is the longest street in this town. I went to the Fishmonger and bought fish. I then went to the vegie place and bought vegies. This life is a village experience.<br /><br />It can be a beautiful place.<br /></div><br />The fish was good.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vQ-pqZQfTUmhnUmtRGFlz8cKCFmaEEfpHjxMrAisNUJ49ezTs5TshTPRIHJ0ociDI4VW422zS0Dndg3a2_Mk2sLShgmzF5zxxKgC55qvNZZymlzBvRMH3pRtAZ3nSQZZO8TXeYBkScwC/s1600-h/07052009470.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 341px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vQ-pqZQfTUmhnUmtRGFlz8cKCFmaEEfpHjxMrAisNUJ49ezTs5TshTPRIHJ0ociDI4VW422zS0Dndg3a2_Mk2sLShgmzF5zxxKgC55qvNZZymlzBvRMH3pRtAZ3nSQZZO8TXeYBkScwC/s320/07052009470.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334879182921737650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The first line of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Hate To be You</span> is - <span style="font-style: italic;">"I don't know how to begin."</span><br /><br /></div>Ross Muellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01742011879208175157noreply@blogger.com0