The Mill

Whoa! I've been busy shooting, shooting, compositing, editing and shooting.

Yesterday I was out doing some location shots... at the Pub! It's a hard life isn't it, I may use that as an excuse in future, "Just going to do some location shots, back in two hours". Glug, glug, glug.

Now, here's a trick. When you're a one person shooting team and you have no actors, lights, or other filming equipment that will disrupt someones business, just turn up and trust your charm and luck. I started with the outside shots, without announcing myself, and gradually worked from the long shots to the close-ups and cut aways. That way, by the time one of the employees came out with, "Who are you and why are you filming our Pub?", I had already finished the outside shooting. If they told me to take a hike I'd already done half the work and hadn't wasted my time. Then, in my sweetest but professional manner, I explained the concept of the film festival and asked to speak to the manager about getting some shots of 'beer taps'. Luckily the manager was totally cool and after explaining the exact shots I needed, a little more than beer taps, she kicked the two alcoholics out of the front bar and I had free reign of the pub for a half hour. Lucky! Another location shoot done and in under an hour.

The rest of the day was spent shooting, shooting, compositing, editing and shooting. On what? Well, here's an example. I had to include a pontoon from a local river in the film (guidelines) so I've turned it into a sky elevator.

Anyway, I've got my actors coming into town this weekend for my blue screen session and a lot of friends who are going to be extras will be turning up as well. Fun! Fun! Catch you all soon, only two and a half weeks left til deadline.


Taking a break?

I've been working on my film for roughly one day a week. Which is really not enough, it's frustratingly slow and saps the enthusiasm. I'm so used to the high-pressure adrenaline packed 4 week deadline that ends in the mad dash to some office at the eleventh hour with a film in one hand and an extra strong coffee in the other.

Having no deadline doesn't seem to work for me and when you're undertaking a task that could take upwards of two years part-time (depending on the project of course - my current endeavour shouldn't take that long) it's hard to envisage a self-imposed deadline because who knows what other factors are going to take influence in my life during that time.

So, I think I'm going to take a break and go back to the insane business of the 4 week deadline I know so well. Starting this Sunday is a film festival that gives the filmmaker(s) 4 weeks to script, shoot, craft and edit their films whilst including 5 out of 10 listed locations, objects, or sound bites from the local area. It's a totally nutsoid endeavour and exactly my type of thing. It'll certainly get me back into the mode of working on a film during every available minute of the day, something that my current project so sorely needs (or least I need to make my current project more appealing to me). It'll also enable me to schedule my current project based on my real work-flow rate rather than this stop-start business I've been attempting over the last few weeks. So, let the craziness begin... if you don't hear from me to much after Sunday I'm either making a film or being committed to an institution.

Now, after I get my current project to a point I can comfortably leave it for 4 weeks, I have to go through several hundred stories and pick the 5 best, not over two minutes scripts I think are adaptable to this festival. Hmmmm, I wonder how the horse incident would go down?!

PS. I will put up another piece of mine shortly for you all. It's been too long



Goal, Goal, Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooal!

It's nice to be back.



I've seen them! I know what they are, and they're here.

Life has lead me to some incredible cartoon dogs who do. They do. Politcal. Intellectual. Artistic. Commercial. Leashed, and masters and mistresses, to their games.

I see aspects of these Captains all around me. Even in a random place like the blogasphere, random because of the chance of meeting another person amongst a billion blogs, I meet people who hold the spirit that leads the cartoon dogs of their choosen fields to find success.

I want to nurture that brilliance in others. Probably in the same way I nurture and work hard towards it within myself when I spot something similiar to what I've seen in those successful cartoon dogs I've met.

I love that. It inspires me to work hard. It reminds me of what and why I still have stuff to draw.

So, that could be a (unanswerable?) question, What inspires you?

For me it's just being another cartoon dog and You people I meet along the way.


Andy Warhol?

I love drawing cartoon dogs. I have pages of them frolicking in every imaginable way. The now christened, Barry, is just one and is (suitably) very roughly drawn and coloured, but he is appropriately lifting his leg to go with his jingle.

Iiiiiiiitttt's Barry

the kaleidoscope covered canine

coated in a human salty brine

and as much as you might beg

you know
you know

he will
he will

get you back when he lifts his leg!

Now if only I could sing and play music!!


In honour of the date!

Seeing as it's apparently the day of the Anti-Christ, and for want of anything better to do, this is a post replicated from my good ol' friend Satan's site. I hope the supposed birth of his son mellows the dude out. And that his 'son' reigns for less time than Satan's blog was around. If you're not into swearing or one of the best drunk-and-did-something-stupid-stories, I urge you not to read it.

Satan - All laugh at the Dark Lord

I think I mentioned something about everyone needs a 'I got really drunk and…' story. So no pictures this week, settle in, and see how it’s done properly.

Yes, as a pre-requisite with these types of situations I was a little drunk. OK, I was fucked-in-half and torn-into-quarters drunk.

The evening started off well, nice place, nice people, (read: nice = boring) and the friend I was going to meet decided to not turn up and leave me with acquaintances. I decided to plonk myself next to the one other person who was attempting to teach his liver to swim. Ex-army green beret drinking copious amounts of beer with scotch chasers - 'possibly' a bad idea I hear you thinking, but his stories were humouresque and I thought I was up to the challenge - I WAS NOT.

The last thing I remembered from the bar was being called a pussy non shot drinker (he had a way with words), I believe my response was 'Grrhadjafundjahokey biatch' as I slipped into what I hoped would be a non-fatal coma. Now, outside of the rare isolated moments I've never been a real messy drunk and I've always managed to make it home or at least to a safe place to pass out. Did I let down this perfect track record? Nup, because the next thing I know I'm walking past the [If your not local you won’t know it] building. I don't know how this is possible! Pass out, then come to while walking unaided albeit crookedly down a city street.

I should have been thinking ‘How did I cross roads and not die?’ but, of course, I was drunk and the thought process was ‘Holy Crap, I am the Man, the Dogs Balls, Nobody is as good a Drunk as Me, I can pass out and still walk to the train station - Shit I am GOOD’. I turned onto X Street near Y Hall - 'Hell, I even knew were I am, I'm a certified God' – and not a foot in front of me were two mounted officers. 'I don't care - nothing, but no-thing, can touch me'. The officer whose way I was blocking said something like "Outta the way Mate". I thought 'I am the Dark Lord Satan, twenty feet tall with large clanging brass bells for testicles and you dumb-ass should recognise me for the deity I am'. While I tried to form this into words and the last rational (non-stupidly-drunk) part of my mind was screaming GET OUT OF THE WAY I made one tiny little mistake, it was but a minor error. I grabbed hold of the reins to steady myself - even a 20 foot tall god gets a little unsteady after 20 or so mixed beverages. He literally screamed at me 'Let go of the F'ing Bridle'. I tried to say Sorry, I tell you, I really tried, but I was half way through the word (and NOT letting go of the bridle) when I threw up on his horse's head. YES. I threw up on a horse, a Fucking Police Horse – I think I'm going to Hell...

Nope, but it starts with a H, that's right, Hospital. The cop pulled back on the reins and the horse tossed his head and the big 'ol bastard head-butted me. If for some reason you've never been head-butted by a horse, let me tell you it damn well hurts. But being head-butted by a horse that is covered in your own vomit, that’s just plain humiliating. No, I am not a God.

Well, I let go of the bridle and fell to the ground like a sack of shit and I think 'That does not happen!' while trying to wipe vomit and blood out of my eyes (blood was from large protuberance now on my forehead). Meanwhile, the second cop has dismounted and tries to get me to my feet (I believe I was crying like a little girl, Sorrrryyyy, S-S-Sorrrryyyy; yep just plain humiliating, only pissing myself could have been worse).

And that's when I did the absolute worst thing I think I have ever done in my whole entire life, that last rational sober part of me was obviously knocked out of me by Mr Horsead-butt, I don’t know why but as the cop pulled me up to my feet, I licked that cop from the base of his neck to his forehead. Mmmmm... Drunk bloodied stinky bloke licks cop with furry vomit coated tongue. I'm about to be thrashed to within an inch of my life, right! Well apparently not. The cop just went blank, I mean Vietnam-Vet-thousand-yard-stare-blank. I broke his mind. He took a step backwards and let go of me. I've never seen anyone look so horrified in all my life - I remember it so clearly its a friggin photo and that's saying something considering the state I was in. So I did the only thing I could, Run like a bastard. I piss-bolted. I am Very Drunk and Bleeding into my eyes, I see an alley, perfect, 'They'll never catch me, Ba HA HA', unless its actually a recessed door way and I hit the plexi-glass door so damn hard I crack it down the middle. 1 inch Glass, mmmm...

I woke up in hospital and I had no idea why I was there or why I was handcuffed to the bed. Truly scary couple of minutes... and then I remember Throwing Up On That Damn Horse... SHIIIITTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!! It all comes flooding back to me, Why the hell Did I lick that cop?!?! That's just not right! That is in fact, very, very wrong. I don't understand... maybe I have tourettes syndrome – Best to pretend I don't remember any of it.

Anyway, I said there was no photo – I lied…

10 interesting facts from what will now always be referred to as the Horse Incident:

1. If you've ever had a catheter inserted (so you don't piss all over the place while unconscious, drugged up and getting stitches) you have been punished enough, nothing that big should ever go in one's pee-hole.

2. A Police Horse is considered a Police Officer and throwing up on one is considered an assault. So is Licking a Police Officer (I'm so ashamed, so very, very confused and ashamed)

3. When being interviewed by the Police Officer don't say "What? So what do you want? You want me to come 'round your place and scrub your horse or something?'. It's not funny, and he will never ever find it so!

4. A Plexi-Glass door, 1.5m by 3m, costs $2390.00, including re-fitting, whilst Bail for emotionally scarring a Police Officer with your tongue only costs $1000.00. Is it just me or is there something wrong with that?

5. Your girlfriend will post your bail and won't think twice about forgiving you but she will never think it is funny and will certainly not feel sorry for you. Come-on, surely this is easily one of the top-ten funniest 'I got really drunk and did something outrageously stupid' stories in existence. But then again, maybe I'm a Shit Head.

6. Lawyers don't think 'I was playing keep up with a 6' 6" ex-green beret' is an adequate defence for assaulting 2 police officers, even if one is a horse. But lack of responsible service of alcohol from the place you were drinking is perfectly acceptable. Even though it WAS me drinking this ISN'T my fault. Welcome to the Modern Legal World.

7. Roughly 13 'Australian' Pints, 13 scotches and 1 absinthe (within 3 hours) leaves you with a .17 blood alcohol reading the Following Day when they receive consent to take blood. (remember .05 is the limit here - the previous nights police ordered reading was .34 ) Maybe I am a Deity - I never had my stomach pumped (I don't think) and apparently I should be dead.

8. When watching the video surveillance footage of the Horse Incident and your asked to confirm 'Is that you?' Don't, under any circumstances, respond with 'can I have a copy to send to Funniest Home Videos' and then tickle the officer under the chin and say 'Just joking'. OK, I never did that but I wanted to.

9. A Judge during a Bail Hearing can officially label you as Stupid in the court records. I am Officially Stupid forever more.

10. If you must get arrested - And you must at least once, it’s an interesting experience - Don't do it throwing up on a horse who is considered a police officer.

Well, hand me another beer, what did you do on the weekend?



Making films is loads of fun. In fact telling stories is just an unavoidable part of me, it's what I do. Recently a friend during an introduction said that I write fantastic scripts, do I? Do I really? The simple answer is No, capital n.

Writing scripts is somewhat of a bother. Let me tell you a story and I can move you. I've made people laugh, or more illustratively, I've told people stories that have left them blinking tears from their eyes. But when it comes to writing or should I say typing I tend to falter, I procrastinate, I am right now in fact.

It should be easy, it is after all just taking dictation from my own mind of a story I've told myself probably hundreds of times. I know what the characters say, I know what they do, I know how they hold their bodies or the way they play with their hair or look at their hands. But it's just a struggle to get it down on the computer in a recognised form. I was telling a friend that I believed it was the way I interact with technology or it's lack of interaction with me, but I think it might actually be the way my mind works. When I'm telling a story I don't think about it, I barely even hear the words, it just flows. When I'm typing I have to think about it. I add a detail, then skip forward or backward to allow a change that results from that addition. I'll add a screen direction or think of the camera angle, that's really distracting as it has nothing to do with the story. Basically, I think in several directions at once as you can see from the following page... don't bother trying to read it, I can't.

Well, it's either that, or I listen too much to my little friend Jape.

Yes, that's probably the problem. Jape turns up everywhere.



After enduring a day of listening to the petty-minded gossip-based non-goal-focused opinion on how I do my job (it's a small office and some people need more work) it's amazing how spending an evening with some of the best people I know and some truly cool art can change your whole outlook.

I'm totally in love with Lyndal Campbell. Well, she is a sweet person, but I really mean her art. It feels like She's had too many exhibitions abroad and it was fantastic to see some of her work back in Sydney... well, I don't think there was an unsold painting on the walls so it'll be only a matter of days to see the works before they're whisked off to private collections. Lyndal's a wonderful gifted painter who can really emote with her work, there was one series called Summer Dreaming and it really made me feel like I was that little kid in the backyard with the grass between my toes on a scorching summers day.

Ahhhhh, work!? What work?


Something to post, something to post.

Nothing to really post about... which I guess is as relevant as 99% of the other blogs out here. I've been keeping myself busy, which is why I haven't encoded any more videos, mostly with writing. And procrastinating on the writing, I prefer telling stories rather than writing them down.

I've also been trying to settle on the main two characters names. That mostly consists of finding a cool name, definitely Japanese because of the style of the animation this time around, and then googling it to see what other animators have used it and what their characters are like. The last thing I want is to appear to be ripping-off some long standing successful character and have that characters personality eclipse my characters.

So, having decided upon the names I need to ask some of my Japanese friends what they think of the innate characteristics of the name, you know, some names have connotations all of their own. Look at the name Richard, 95% of characters named Richard in film tend to be sleaze-ball-baddies, the other 5% are Richard the Lion Heart. That may seem silly, the characters are who they are based on the actors and the direction, but who wants to make a romantic film and then have the Japanese audience be like 'I didn't like that cause all blah-blah's tend to be sleazy not romantic'.

So, that's pretty much where I at; playing, playing, little work, playing. Oh, and for some unknown reason someone wanted me to post something 'personal' (as if my films aren't personal enough) sooooo, I don't have milk in my coffee! Shhhhh, keep it to yourselves.