Continuing on from my previous (somewhat tangential) blog…
We were asked to write something we like, then something we hate. Then we were to add five reasons why we like it, five reasons why we hate it. Then, we were to write five reasons why someone might like what we hate, and why someone might hate what we like. Who would these people be?
What stories could we tell?
So…
I like sound/audio and I hate how I have to pay $9 to the government for a concession card.
In applying the exercise…
I like audio because;
it can be sculpted
audio technology has surpassed visual production
it is difficult to block out
it tells a story
the principal of sound can be paralleled to the existence of the universe
I hate having to pay $9 to the government for a concession card because;
it doesn’t seem justifiable
the government don’t need my $9
government money may go toward the military which I don’t mind to a degree however they aren’t using tax payers $$$ efficiently. For example, the JSF which is a contract that has been on hold for nearly 10 years and tax payers have been paying hundreds of millions of dollars for the licensing
I have very little voice to contest this
That could be spent on my lunch or toward the money that I save when I use my concession
The reasons why someone might like what I hate could include;
one may believe that the $9 concession card fee goes toward the teller’s wage
they may also believe that the fleet of JSFs will be delivered this year
they may enjoy airshows
Their boss told them to charge $9 and if they were to consider wavering it, they won’t get their promotion
They are malevolent to the core and revel in the thought of societal struggle
Someone may hate Sound/audio because;
– it can hurt your ears when near a construction site or an airshow
– people can use sound offends
– some may prefer vision
– they may be hard of hearing
– the thought of sound/audio may evoke a bad memory like an ex or a bad performance
Finally…
This exercise has been a lot of fun and it has contributed to the first 2 characters in my story!
Advancing to this inspiration came on a night out watching Andrew Knight and Jan Sardi speak about film writing, I observed several platitudes that seemed to function as space-fillers.
At Etihad Stadium that same evening, I conversed with many people who spoke mechanically as though they were automatons in a Stepford nightmare. They were trialling a rotoscope camera which delivered impressive images though those I spoke to couldn’t seem to answer simple questions such as, ‘whats your involvement’ without looking as though they had just inserted a floppy disc into their brains.
It reminded me of Jacques Tati’s 1967 film Playtime where humans became secondary to the cold complicated machinery that ruled their lives.
From here, the first character B was born. B is a surviver who craves the human touch and is the personification of the lack of societal intimacy as a result of advancements of technology and bureaucracy. B’s antagonist is H. H who is malevolent to the core and profits off the fear of others.
It’s been a while since I’ve added to this blog and understandably, I’ve changed though not nearly as much as the free world around me.
What hasn’t changed, are the reams of digi-pulp that bookend fundamentals such as school, employment, raising a family… and even death!
In response to this, I am, more so than ever, referring back to Cartesian philosophy to ease the grip of bureaucracy that seems to have washed over me like a Teahupoo monster. After the holidays, with no surf, and far to much time to think and therefore slipping into somewhat of an existential crises, it was awfully nice to be offered clear cut guidelines on ‘how to give notes’ by our lecturer Stayci Taylor.
In class, I remember thinking that advice like this is invaluable. In my first semester, we exercised an activity where we were to offer critical advice to our fellow classmates, applying similar modes as expounded by Peter Bloore in his book The Screenplay Business: Managing creativity and script development (2013).
For me, when offering feedback, I have learned to apply the steps; what you like about something, what was your first instinct, how could it be improved and where else could it go.
Peter Bloore’s treatise has certainly enriched my understanding of how to tactfully offer feedback and support.
We went out into the world and did great things with an enriched knowledge of technical aspects, specifically with regard to camera. This was the outcome.
Many thanks to our inspiring guest lecturer Jiulio Tami.
Synopsis: The Yarra River is an important geographical and social feature of Melbourne. This film explores the river’s history, the people who spend their days by the banks and the need to maintain its ecological balance.
1) Arthur, P 2003, Essay Questions, Film Comment, vol. 39, no. 1, pp. 58-63.
This article has enriched my understanding of the essay film. It speaks of contemporary contributors to the essay film form, such as Agnés Varda, Werner Herzog, Michael Moore and the likes. But it also looks at early essay films by the likes of Jean Rouch, Alain Resnais and Chris Marker. The latter on this list have inspired filmmakers such as Orson Welles, Jean-Luc Godard, Raúl Ruiz. On reading about these filmmakers, I’m not only given new ideas to explore in my own filmmaking but I can tack certain style tropes to my understanding of essay film’s esoteric and genre-resistance definition.
I could argue that Arthur’s statement, about nonfiction filmmaker’s reticence to posit personal opinion is fallacious and somewhat misleading for the reader. In my opinion, most nonfiction films are born from personal agendas. Even if they explicitly aim to present unhindered ‘fact’, for example in D. A. Pennebakbr’s observational film Don’t Look Back (1967), filmmakers are perpetually and craftily shaping our opinions.
2) Blight 1996, film, BBC, UK, Directed by John Smith.
This short film rhythmically samples audio interviews of a neighbourhood affected by ruthless gentrification in the UK. It is an audio, visual and textual feast laden with symbolism, euphemism and intertextual references that invoke further questioning into the hegemonic control of the lower class.
As well as expositing similar themes to those that I intend to apply to my work (social appropriation and industrial affliction), Blight’s stillness, minimalism and powerful thought provoking text has offered potential ideas for future projects.
3) Galt, R & Schoonover, K (eds) 2010, Global Art Cinema, New theories and histories, Oxford University Press, pp. 143 – 163.
Objects and signs make up the language of cinematic communication. In this chapter, ‘Pasolini’s Exquisite Flowers: The caiman of poetry as a theory of art cinema’, John David Rhodes explores the language of art films as defined by Pier Paolo Pasolini who deems day-to-day images as “im-segni” and understands them to be temporal, objectively concrete and non-abstract. Pasolini’s, almost Cartesian whittling down of basic semiotic understanding has helped me look closer at the images I included in my work, their importance to the participants and their relevance to my narrative.
4) Kent, J 2005 , “I Walk the Line.” Film Comment, vol. 41:1, January-February
Kent reminds us of how the lines between fiction and nonfiction documentary are ostensibly blurred.
In relation to Abu-Assad’s film Ford Transit (2002) he calls into question what has been staged and what is reality. Kent puts this and other films into a hybrid category where the filmmaker is overt about combining the two, heightening the ‘truthfulness’ of their text.
I particularly liked the tongue in cheek quip that Jones made with reference to the dramatic hours of O.J. Simpson’s police pursuit telecast, exclaiming that “All that was lacking was a theme song” emphasising the likeness to fiction. Similarly, commercial documentaries supposed ‘reality’ is extended through editing choices, backdrop, affectations and the likes. Some films aim to objectify and subvert these displays through humour and satire, putting them in the spotlight and inviting the audience to look below the surface.
5) Man With a Movie Camera 1929, VUFKU, Kiev, directed by Dziga Vertov.
Using rhythmic editing and counterpoint image sequences, I find this film artful and fascinating, not least because of its eastern European backdrop, but also because of the political climate circa 1930. In my essay film, I have applied this rhythmic editing as a homage to the early avant-garde filmmakers.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z97Pa0ICpn8
6) Nichols, B 1991 Documentary Modes of Representation, Representing Reality: Issues and Concepts in Documentary, Bloomington & Indianapolis, Indiana University Press, USA.
This reading is a part of Bill Nichols’ seminal treatise which aims to codify documentary’s engagement with viewers and participants, Nichols identifies 6 key modes of participation. With regard to my essay film, Nichols would say that I’ve incorporated the participatory and poetic modes however, such black and white definitions invoke sedition as some styles are difficult to define yet still aspire to be included into the broader documentary genre. In addition, I find it utterly megalomaniacal to even think about categorising my own work in such a way, I perhaps should let someone else be the judge.
7) Night Mail 1936, film, GPO (General Post Office) Film Unit, UK, Directed byHarry Watt & Basil Wright.
This film is not participatory but more expository despite its strange and unexpected rhyme that plays like an infomercial jingle. But this does not, for me, fall into the poetic mode as its exposition dominates. Night Mail uses reenacted scenes, complete with poor performances. It is an exemplar of early ‘faction’ (a portmanteau of ‘fiction’ and ‘fact’) documentaries as seen in Nanook of the North (1922). It is difficult to discern whether the prose read by the narrator is a tongue-in-cheek wink at the people who work for the railroads, or an early, albeit fallacious, prediction of how future documentaries would be accepted. This film enriched my historical understanding of documentary.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WO7JxYlhOM
8) Rascaroli, L 2008, The Essay Film: Problems, Definitions, Textual Commitments. Framework: The Journal of Cinema and Media,49(2), 24-47. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org.ezproxy.lib.rmit.edu.au/stable/41552525
As the class seemed vague about what was expected of an essay film, this reading was welcome insight. An interesting thing that I took home from Rascaroli’s reading was her curated definitions of ‘essay’ and in turn, ‘essay film’.
The reading offers some succinct examples from Adorno, Lukács, Jean Starobinski, Aldous Huxley, Snyder, Renov, José Moure and more (pp. 25-26). It was interesting to learn that heresy is one of the “key markers” of essay films according to Rascaroli (p.39), this I can truly relate to especially with my PB2 project. However, I’m of the belief that ALL documentary films blur the lines between fiction and nonfiction, Rascaroli seems to frame essay film as being exclusive to this conflict.
9) Sherman’s March 1985, film,
Ross McElwee’s documentary feigns as a personal travel memoir documenting his pilgrimage as he follows the path of an American historical figure. It is later revealed that he is actually on a quest for love.
His methods have been heavily criticised for being too self-reflexive to the point of solipsism, however, it is this self reflection that I’m most interested in for my own work. I believe, that as we are endowed with such a volume of knowledge through technology, we seem to have adversely focussed more on ourselves rather than the human race.
In week 1, we aimed to explore such paradoxical notions for the student chronicles in an investigation of DIY user-generated and self-reflective forms that are ubiquitous today.
Sherman’s March points the camera back on ourselves and it could be said that McElwee’s work was prophetic in that it bears semblance to an elaborate ‘selfie’.
10) Vlada, P 1974, “Dziga Vertov as Theorist.” Cinema Journal 18:1 Fall 1978, pp29-44.
In this paper, Petric outlines Vertov’s methods, one that resonated for me was “Film Eye” which is described as the documentation of ‘life as it is’. Any theatrics or affectations in film are considered outside of his definition. However, within this ‘organisation of reality’, he insists that the ‘method’ maintain a communistic sensibility. For me, Man With a Movie Camera (1929) was a classic propaganda film where I was left with the sense that Vertov’s societal focus centred on happiness, the encouragement of hard-work, strength and functionality. As aesthetic as his productions were, I cannot help but see the textual and filmic agendas within.
Through investigating documentary classics, the current political situation becomes bathed in a new light.
In this brief, we’ve been asked to identify 3 groups of people to potentially base our documentary around. After surfing a stream of consciousness, this is what I came up with…
1) Emerging conceptual artists
Conceptual artists must always push the boundaries of social, political and internal conventions to help make sense of the world. With the exponential growth of the digital universe comes an increasing challenge to decipher abstract concepts that flow through our day to day lives. It is for this reason that, as humans, we must be ready and willing to embrace ‘the abstract’. By extension, the tumultuous political climate seen throughout most of the world, requires new modes of thinking as we become more fearful and dismayed with the world. It is an artist’s freedom of expression that will get us through (McLuhan).
It is my hope that any emerging artists involved in a documentary project, such as what our class is proposing, will gain further exposure to their work and may enlighten non-artists to see the world in new and unique ways.
They may or may not want to participate but if they do, I’ll make sure that I’ll do my utmost to engage but not interfere with their process.
2) Free surfers
I am a surfer and I am drawn to waves with a particular erotic magnetism that only a surfer could relate to. Aside from the fitness and the thrill of ‘the ride’, there is something more about surfing that has people worldwide clambering to the shores like hungry zombies looking for flesh! When a person meets another person, one might ask the other, “how was your day?” or, “how about this rain?”, but when a surfer meets another surfer, it’s always the same… “Get any waves?”
It would be interesting to explore how people feel about their wave addiction, where it comes from and why it sustains when that thrill in so many other sports, like snowboarding for example, can seem finite.
Two perks a surfer gains from participating in this production; is, again, exposure to a wider community (should they want to move into professional surfing arena), and a ‘third umpire’ like second opinion of their skills.
3) Actors
They reside at a junction between megalomaniacal fulfilment and utter self-loathing and contempt. These two mental states inevitably spill into the other creating, either; abeautiful choreographed representations of reality or, tragic soups of tangential inner diatribe.
I recently ran into an old friend on his way home. He looked sharp and confident, unlike anyone onboard that evening commute, he was calm, cool and could inadvertently take down a low flying aircraft with his good looks and charm that, no doubt, contributed to him taking best actor at the Logies some years before. When I ask him where home was nowadays, he replied, “In my office, I’m homeless. I shower at the public Baths”… all without batting an eyelid!
Did he consider his life’s trajectory as a shameful fall-from-grace, or new living arrangements — new beginnings? I don’t know, but it certainly said a lot about that cliche of chasing a dream no matter what.
For my documentary source, I will ruminate on ideas like investigating artworks by the incarcerated, though it seems that this topic has been thoroughly covered by the ABC and SBS of late, plus, I may have expended my last social privilege to call on a key scholarly contact of a community based organisation that specialises in seminal programs like this one.
So, maybe not.
In a moment of indecision, insecurity and mild intoxication, I will look away from this idea and turn my gaze toward the patio where chirping flying rats mill around in their scheming feathered pooping coterie and then I will wonder… I will wonder if I could produce a documentary centred around these nano-transients.
It could work.
I’ll quickly realise that this idea sucks and that maybe I would be better off upping the ante to investigate the great shearwater birds of Phillip Island and see if they have an axe to grind, or a sad story about human pollution… a plight to reveal of sorts. My Dad will exclaim down the phone that “they DO have a plight!” He’ll continue, “You could produce an engaging documentary about these majestic birds… they have a plight, and it is that they have to fly several thousand kilometres each year to migrate” he’d say. To this I will reminded my father that that’s not a plight as such, it’s just what they do. I will also remind him that some Facebook comments are better off confined to Messenger than to the timeline feed but I digress.
These ideas will come as fast as they will go due to blowouts not dissimilar to the latter… they will resemble a Formula One pitstop… Pitstop? PITSTOP?! BINGO!!! Phillip Island has one of those things, a bogan’s merry-go-round… or a race track for petrol driven tin boxes steered by tin men with tin heads.
I will then remember the birds, then I will begin to imagine the 2 forces coming together in one huge mismatched bio-mechanical contest of the fittest and the fastest… like the turtle and the hare, ‘cept… the turtle has a McLaren 10 cylinder engine under its shell?
No, too difficult to report on let alone orchestrate.
I will finally conclude this seemingly discursive tangential rant with more questions than I could answer in one blog… who to interview? how to approach a documentary production? Can I give in to a topic’s shifting unpredictable tectonic transience?
We’ll see. Bring on the 3rd semester!
Great shearwater – Photograph by Patrick Coin 2007
‘Yidaki’ is the traditional name for the didgeridoo, it has a unique sound quality that becomes amplified when played in the ‘sweet-spot’ under the arch of the Morell Bridge.
Kent Morris, who is playing the yidaki in this production, is a Songwriter, Producer, Musician and CEO of The Torch in Victoria.
Kent is also a proud descendent of the Barkindji people of the Darling River in New South Wales and here in this piece, we are able to understand the Morell space, not only in an aural context but in a cultural and spiritual one too.
Yidaki by the Yarra with Kent Morris
This work consists of recordings made on a short trip to the Morell Bridge in South Yarra with Songwriter, Producer and The Torch CEO, Kent Morris. It features Kent’s yidaki (didgeridoo) playing performed and recorded at the location by the river.
The piece is introduced with a brief phone conversation inviting Kent to be apart of the project and eventually, an informal interview inside Kent’s kombi that uncovers the challenges of Kent’s work as a producer. This in-car conversation is included in order to provide the listener with Kent’s background which I’m hoping will enrich the experience of listening to his playing.
In the background can be heard a CD of Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu’s album Rrakala. This reinforces Kent’s own indigenous heritage and the fact that the location, Birrarung, is important to Aboriginal people, hence my decision to record a traditional instrument such as the yidaki there.
Another important reason for recording the yidaki in this space, is that its sound quality highlights the echoes and the organic delay effect caused by the bridge’s parabolic underside of smooth curved bricks. The clap sticks served to further elaborate the effect of the bridge on the sound quality as well as heightening the piece’s cultural context.
The recording equipment that I used included an H6 Zoom recorder with a 120 degree axis X/Y mic plus two phantom powered Rode studio condenser upright microphones. To achieve the maximum left/right pan width, I had to separate the two condenser mics approximately 4 metres apart, and positioned to the edges of the balustrade above. The Zoom mic and recorder remained central to the span of the bridge, between the condenser mics and at speaking height to produce a symmetrical
sound split. The sounds that were closer to the space, like the yidaki and the voice, were primarily picked up by the Zoom and anything beyond the space, like the traffic and the pedestrians, were picked up by the condenser mics. Much of the session was spent readjusting the microphones’ positions, so that I could achieve the best possible example of the sound space.
The time of the recording session took place after 10pm due to Kent’s daytime commitments and it was serendipitous that we were confined to recording late because the freeway was quieter and so too was the normally busy bike path that runs through the space.
My interest in natural acoustics came from Trevor Cox’s article Past Echoes (2010) that was cited on Radio National’s Radiotonic edition entitled Volume Without Sparks by Timothy Nicastri (2015). Had I had more time, I may have produced further acoustic experiments where I explore how different curved surfaces affect the sound of different instruments. Having sadly not achieved all that I wanted to due to time restraints, I have again been made aware of the time management that must go into all Radio’s New Wave projects.
COMM2625 MEDIA 2 – Studio Production 11th of September 2015
Daniel Bowden
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Have you ever wondered what would happen if the yidaki (didgeridoo) had a sonic duel with the soundscape of the city at 131 beats per minute in a 4/4 time signature? Hit PLAY to find out!!
Yidaki Symphony with Kent Morris – CEO of The Torch
This work incorporates the recording of Kent’s yidaki (the traditional name didgeridoo) and clap- sticks recorded on location with a host of other sound textures that were audible at the site of The Morell Bridge. The piece is a representation of how sounds have built up over time at this location, using a push-pull motion that has been influenced by Felix Blume’s oeuvre, most notably in his piece Les Gritos de Mexico (2014).
Yidaki Symphony is about the location of the Morell Bridge. In the field recording, Kent has commented that Birrarung, which is the traditional name of this area, has changed for the worst — yet ultimately, it still holds spiritual power. This piece is entitled Yidaki Symphony, which is a somewhat tongue-in-cheek name that reflects the fact that, in this day and age, the sounds of the city have become those of the traditional corroboree.
The piece represents a tug of war between cultures, new and old, and is structured according to a loose chronological timeline running in reverse from; the city’s overdevelopment, western invasion, people, wildlife and then the river.
It begins with an electrical buzz that pans from left to right which signals industrial development. Although it goes against the chronology of the story, after consulting with my peers, I needed to a) begin the piece less abruptly and b) have something that will grab the listeners intention so to engage them further.
The footsteps are an important feature as they symbolise aboriginal culture striving to readjust to find their place during the insurgence of western domination. The footsteps meander to one side and are then followed with sounds of industry until eventually, they are forced to run. However, as the yidaki pulls focus, as the piece draws to a close, it is to remind us of the continued Aboriginal presence throughout western development.
The bridge itself is the centre of the story of how that part of the river, Birrarung, has changed since colonisation, resonating both aurally and culturally.
The sounds of the clock, jet, birds, traffic, truck, sirens thunder, footsteps, wind, river, pick axe and electricity have been sourced from freesounds.org, Favourite Australian Bird Song CD and my own foley produced in the studio. Kent’s playing of the yidaki was recorded live at Morell Bridge with a Zoom H6 recorder and two Rode condenser microphones, they were treated in postproduction to extend their decay in certain phrases. To heighten the rhythmic element of the piece, I have placed all audio files on a 4/4 time signature grid set to a tempo of 131 BPM.
I’ve always sort honesty and conviction in art, Radio’s New Wave has extended from reporting to just that… art. In order to frame a text in Radio’s New Wave, according to Radiolab’s Jad Abumrad, sounds such as music, foley and the warping of the original are often called upon to sustain an emotive audience. However, a fine balance must be struck when producing nonfiction artefacts, because, such sonic affectations run the risk of being distracting and annoying. They may have an adverse affect to the truth if not used sparingly.
The figure above is the studio in preparation and below, is a look at the packed-to-the-gills Protools session.
_____________ References;
Adumrad, J R. Krulwich (2007) [PODCAST] Making Radio Lab, RadioLab, WNYC.
Blume, F. (2014), [PODCAST], Les Gritos de Mexico, France, ArteRadio.
Skeoch, A & Koschak, S (2001) Favourite Australian Bird Song – Castlemaine Victoria,Listening Earth.
ACM International Conference on Multimedia (2013), [DATABASE] Freesound TechnicalDemo, Proceedings of the 21st ACM international conference on Multimedia, ACM.
Birds of a Feather for Radio Eye by Kyla Brettle began with the sense that this production is set in a suburban house with hard floors, perhaps linoleum, and one of those tacky returning doors that swing shut and bounce on their frame. The Producer voice drops in to tell us more about where we are and what we’re doing… we are in the home of scheming activists planing a guerrilla style covert rescue for neglected chickens in a battery environment. The field recording was surprisingly clean with no wind noise or interference, I wondered if maybe much of the field noise had been recorded separately, like with the suspense evoking heart beat.
I began thinking about my studio piece for the 24 Folio and how I might source and create studio sounds to tell my sonic story of the Yarra location I’ve chosen… sans chickens and with yidaki (didgeridoo).
Sharon’s use of foley didn’t bring attention to itself, in fact, it felt seamless.
In her piece, When Time Stood Still, she looked at the psychological impacts of war and the invisible injuries that it inflicts on survivors.
The voiceovers began in a controlled studio environment, actors were then introduced to dramatically re-enact the action. To assist in relaying a sense of the era, period music was layered underneath a scratchy wireless announcement. More voice over actors were introduced albeit delivering performances that were somewhat contrived, “Declared fit of active service” [STAMP], declared the administrator in an officious tone.
The one moment that resonated most with me was the blending of the sound of the project and the steam train, it created a pleasing aural parallel that I hope to use in my own work at some stage.
P