The following represents the formal submission of my Higher Degree Research (HDR) Professional Doctorate Project 1 Document.

This 47,000 word (excluding references, bibliography and appendices) document is in many ways equivalent to a traditional PhD Doctoral Program Confirmation Document.

The document has been spllit across 7 blog posts due to its size.

Please see Pt28a – Research Study Project 1 Submission, it includes the Title page, the Abstract, the Statement of Originality, the Contents, and the Introduction of the Exegesis.

Please see Pt28b – Research Study Project 1 Submission, it includes the Chapter 1 Literature Review.

Please see Pt28c – Research Study Project 1 Submission, it includes the Chapter 2 Methodology.

Within this post, Pt28d – Research Study Project 1 Submission, it includes the Chapter 3 Creative Practice in Critical Perspective.

Chapter 3 Creative Practice in Critical Perspective

3.0 Introducing the creative practice

Building upon the methodological foundation of my research study, I embarked on Project One Pilot Study. Conducting a pilot study afforded me the opportunity to set parameters around the study, defining what was to be in scope, and what was not. In this chapter I explore practice I have undertaken to date in the first phase of the research study. The data collected is in four (4) forms: firstly, a range of documents including various computer-based applications and handwritten notes and charts; secondly; reflective narratives of my journey to date, informed by literature and textural resources; thirdly, exploratory music and sound practice sessions experimenting with a range of processing to create a psychedelic musical style aesthetic; and experimenting with creating music and sound objects and events as associated memory narratives of significant events in my life; and fourthly, a series of creative written memory narratives of selected significant events in the first twenty (20) years of my life.

3.0.1 Data documents

The moment my pilot study commenced I delved deep into creative practice. I had engaged in creative practice for over three (3) decades, and had become quite systematic in the way I approached practice. I had intended to engage in this pilot study in a similarly systematic way – as I had done so many times previously, – with the difference to previous practice I was to – in addition to practice – observe and reflect on my processes. I was to create a detailed record of the elements, stages and process I observed within my creative practice. However, I noticed within the first few days of this pilot study, in undertaking the dual roles of subject and observer, I was having a vastly different phenomenological experience to what I had previously encountered in practice. I was now inviting self-scrutiny into what had always been a flowing, creative, expressive experience.

As a formal research study, I understood I was required to collect and record the many forms of data generated in the process of engaging in the above process, over the course of the two Projects. I developed an electronic folder structure to store the numerous Microsoft Office and Apple Macintosh application-generated documents I was creating, such as excel, word, text, iNote and iCal. Creating the folder structure helped me greatly to develop – to conceive and illuminate – documents that I could use to gather data in co-existence with my music and sound-making practice workflow. The development of a broad range of documents has been ongoing. In addition to electronic formatted documents, I continued to use paper, pens, and permanent marker pens to express thoughts – questions, statements, and prose – and doodle heuristically – charts and models – as I have done prolifically across many years of practice. The majority of non-electronic formatted documents were photographed or scanned as a pdf document, and filed for efficient and effective retrieval at a later time. Within the first few weeks of the pilot study, I noted how disruptive this data documentation process was to my creative practice workflow. The act of stopping creative practice to consider my actions in practice and also to record data notes caused me increasing levels of frustration. As I fumbled my way attempting to conduct the two roles, this frustration soon led to anxiety. However, over time as my pilot study progressed, I did develop a more effective and efficient way of engaging in creative practice, supported by reflective and reflective practice. Some of my strategies included having scribing mediums on hand – physical or electronic – for ease of scribing my thoughts; followed by a pre-planned administrative reflective practice session at the conclusion of a creative session. In these reflective sessions I had time to consider the written records, embellish or order the notes, photograph what records I had, blu-tack them up on my wall, and/or file them for effective and efficient future accessing.

The collection of data included such tasks as: the development of my Project idea; Supervisor and Associate Supervisor meeting minutes with feedback; peer group meeting minutes with feedback; discussion re human resource needs relative to gaps in my skillset; advertising for assistance where needed; analysis re music and sound styles; examples of reference tracks (exemplar cultural productions); critical listening observations of exemplar cultural productions; blogs of reference tracks with critical, analytical, social and cultural analysis; observation reports re live and virtual listening sessions; scoping documents; project brief; pre-production plan brief; extensive pre-production plan (with live room stage setup, equipment required, variety of micing positions and technique options, input lists);  DAW session (PTs, LPX)[1] with sketch tracks/compositional ideas/experimentation with samples or tracking; blogs re session reflections; evidence of research (pdfs, websites, industry texts, academic texts); blogs reflecting on my research, and gaps in my knowledge or skillset (personal/soft skills, technical/physical or virtual; application/physical or virtual); evidence of my being proactive in exploring these gaps; and increasing my knowledge and skillset around these gaps; blogs reflecting on my experimentation and developing my practice; song or compositional development drafts; DAW session (PTs, LPX) with scratch/demo tracks; extensive post-production plan (with site and technology likely to be used – photos or console channel strip templates or DAW screenshots of likely processing methods, types, manufacturer models); blogs reflecting on my engagement as a creative media practitioner with society (peers, industry, mentors, public); and blogs reflecting on my self as a practitioner as to what I have discovered or learnt about my self.

3.0.2 Reflective narratives

In my original Project Brief submission I noted my intention to maintain a progressive record of my research journey. The characterisation of evocative ethnography resonated with me: to have a first person evocative, purposeful narrative of my creative practice journey; illuminating – at times – the vulnerability of the subject, and allowing the audience to share in the experience and respond (Pace 2012, 5; Denzin 2016, 20; Ellis 1997). I naively imagined a Tolkienesque’ Bilbo Baggins adventure (2012a, 2012b)[2].  I did not want – as I had done in most of my other formal courses of study – to have an abundance of recorded data accumulated for my eyes only. I could not see the point of engaging in such a rigorous study with that limited an outcome. The pragmatic purpose of the publically hosted reflective narratives was to be two-fold: to share my journey, progressively with others; and to have a well-organised narration of my journey, to afford post-practice critical reflection of changes and developments in my practice – and knowledge – over time[3].

In preparation for this pilot study, I re-examined the blog site I had within my social network. The site I had developed – tumblr.com – had frustrated me over the past year. It did not afford me the flexibility of editing and updating I had envisioned of a blog site. Within the first month of the pilot study, I pursued the idea of engaging someone to construct a customised site on my behalf. However, due to a number of factors I decided upon a templated site, wordpress.com. This site afforded me access to a public communication medium, which seamlessly integrated into my developed social media network[4]. After some initial learning challenges, I have found this site straightforward in terms of creating and editing blogs.

I was intent on maintaining my regular writing of narratives as a record of my journey[5] I decided hosting blogs four (4) times per month – one per week – would be an effective way to reflect on and summarise the observations, interpretations and understandings I had had in the previous seven (7) days. Over the course of the pilot study, this would provide one hundred and four (104) reflective narratives  (in part-time mode) as a consistent – systematic – source of rich nuanced data for critical reflection[6].  I planned to use a diverse variety of “aesthetic style of text” as source data for the reflective narratives such as: stream of consciousness journal entries, reflective journal entries, prose, lyrics, short story narrative; “other forms of fragmented writing” such as iNote and iCal entries; observation notes in written form and in mind map form (Boyle and Parry 2007, 186); heuristic methods, such as figures and charts (de Corte 2010, 46); and publically hosted blog posts. As predicted, blogs allowed me to more formally host the data of my thoughts, opinions and observations across the stages of music and sound-making practice. As I went through my usual multiple draft writing process, the process of publishing these blogs proved to facilitate crystallising the recorded data.  Knowing the blog was to be publically published was an additional motive to ensure my blogged reflective journals were well crafted, articulating my reflections both succinctly and authentically[7].  Writing has supported me in my many forms of practice over much of my life as the vast stock of aesthetic and heuristic written material in my filing cabinets in my project studio office demonstrates. However, the practice of writing for me had predominantly been a very private process: a practice where I could express my private self, to my self – with only me as the audience.

As my pilot study progressed, I found it challenging to balance the time required to engage in creative practice, methodological research practice, literary research; and then craft a diversity of accumulated data into a publically hosted blog – four (4) times per month[8]. In addition to the sheer volume of data and topics I had planned to write about; I noticed at times my increasing levels of anxiety as I was drafting – with the view of releasing – certain observations and insights of self into the public domain. Reflecting on my vulnerability, I knew my predisposition to maintain my private self in most areas of my life. Displaying vulnerability in public was something I approached with great caution. My creative practice was largely for my private self. My creative practice – whether creative writing, or music and sound-making -, is an expression of me. Historically I have been selective as to what cultural productions I have created I choose to share: to whom, in what environments, and at what times. Preparing for a gig, I choose the material I will perform, strategically.  I discriminate between options in my diverse creative portfolio depending upon my perception of the anticipated audience. In certain environments I choose to exhibit less vulnerability for fear of having that material scrutinised, and my self possibly ridiculed[9] (Brown 2013)[10]. My ongoing investigations into literature over the course of this pilot study have revealed the interdependency between self-making, meaning-making and reflective practice (Mezirow 2012; Brown 2013; Ryan 2014). Further, I understand a key criterion of robust reflective practice is for the data collected from reflective practice to be shared with others – from “I to us” (Ghaye and Lillyman 2014, 24). Whilst this step of the reflective narrative process – going public – brought up immense fears and insecurities of self – my private self -, I knew it was an essential step in the development of practice; and more importantly, my practitioner self. I accepted my academic writing would need to be scrutinised by academic peers in the public arena; and therefore any intermediary step to have my writing accessible to a larger number of people, could only benefit my longer-term development. I therefore approached the release on my blogs on a publically hosted site as a proactive step in my development: “from independence to inter-dependence of practice ” (Ghaye & Lillyman 2014, 27). I decided I would write the blogs in a semi-formal style and voice – a fusion of self-reflective narrative, including relevant literature and textural resources. I trusted developing this semi-formal voice would support the development of my academic voice over time.

By the second year of my pilot study, I observed a greater synergy between various forms of practice I was engaged in. I noticed greater levels of cross-over between my creative practice, my research practice, and my educational and learning practice. In a January 2017 blog I referred to my self as a multi-facetted/multi-dimensional practitioner, and sketched out loosely a holistic hybridised approach to practice[11].  Over the next twelve (12) months of the pilot study, with ongoing focus and practice, I noticed a greater harmony between the three forms of practice I was necessarily focussed on: my creative practice, my methodological research practice (reflective and reflective practice), and my literary research practice. I was creating, observing, gathering data, reflecting on it, analysing it for developments, and forming it into publically-hosted blogs. Whilst I was behind on my original planned schedule, I have been proactively publishing reflective narratives[12].

3.0.3.1 Exploratory music and sound sessions

At the outset of my research study, I imagined my creative practice was to be a five (5) track EP of original compositions. The song style was to be a roots-based, a style I had been accustomed to writing over many decades. However, I wanted to ensure I was challenging my practitioner self, and therefore reflected on sub-genres I had not yet explored. Over the first few months of the pilot study, I found myself returning to my musical influences[13] to garner some inspiration. As part of this process, I investigated and developed my understanding of the history of music production[14] . I had always liked – loved? – psychedelic rock but had no experience in producing that style. I therefore turned my focus to learning as much about this style of music as I could [15]. In time, I began to experiment within the digital virtual environment with processing audio to arrive at a psychedelic aesthetic [16]. These experiments were in sound processing techniques, rather than using external hardware experimental processing as they had done in the 1950s and 1960s. Whilst it was fun, I failed to find sounds that inspired me to create. However, as I continued to delve into that style and experimented in multitextured complex layers of music and sound that characterise that particular musical style, I became increasingly aware that I was experimenting with music and sonic objects and events. My level of investigations increasingly started to focus on soundtracks, rather than 3 minute acoustic-based songs I was used to creating.

3.0.3.2 Exploratory music and sound narratives

A soundtrack approach to music production differs to a roots-based approach fundamentally. A roots-based approach to music and sound production is usually instrument based[17]; whereas a soundtrack approach to music and sound production is usually function-based[18]. The approach I had towards the DAW – Pro Tools – would necessarily need to be different. Whilst I had some sound for film experience, the amount of experience was certainly exponentially less than I had in roots-based song composition and production. Once I became clear about the theme of the composition – significant events of my life – , I began experimenting with a number of sound objects and sound events to represent my associated memory of those significant events. I found the soundtrack compositional process very challenging. In my initial attempts, I struggled to make an affective connection to the music and sound-making process[19]

3.0.4 A series of creative narratives of the memories of the selected significant events

In engaging in the soundtrack compositional process, I found it difficult to affectively connect to the composition. In reflecting on the creative process I instinctively took in a roots-based song compositional process, I noticed that I relied on a narrative theme from the outset of the creative process to focus my affective expression. I then usually developed a narrative – the lyric – for the song early in the process. As this soundtrack was to be essentially a music and sound piece without use of lyrics, I noticed that I was missing a key structure to focus the compositional piece. I observed I was attempting to compose a piece without clarity of what the narrative was for that piece. I therefore, decided to experiment and write prose of my memory of the significant event prior to the conflated creative and production process. In this process I created a twenty (20) part series of creative writing: blogs of associated memory of the chosen significant events, which were to be the focus of my composition [20]. Once completed, I returned to the music and sound-making practice of these significant events. In re-engaging in the creative process, I noticed I was better able to formulate and discriminate in my selection of sound objects and sound events, which represented my associated memory of the significant events from a much earlier period of my life. I experimented composing a few soundtrackesque music and sound pieces within a digital virtual environment in order to evaluate this new compositional workflow. As a result of following this process, I found I more effectively affectively connected to the compositional process within the digital virtual environment than I have previously experienced. Over the next year I continued with my experiments in creating sound objects and sound events. I increasingly was drawing on sounds from the natural world – water, rocks, wind – rather than just relying musical structures and sonic manipulations as per my psychedelic experiments. As I deepened my investigations into literature surrounding music and sound-making practice, I realised my planned composition could perhaps better be described as a soundscape, rather than a soundtrack(Schafer 1993).

3.1 Holistic observations to date

3.1.1 My holistic observation of practice

As noted, the twenty part series of creative memory blogs includes experiments of associated music and sound-making practice composed within a digital virtual environment. This represents a significant change to the method I had envisaged at the outset of this doctoral program that I would be engaging in my creative practice. In doing so, I demonstrate how an investigation of creative arts-based practice is synergistic with an investigative auto-ethnographic research study. Both creative arts-based practice and ethnographic research study practice are subjective processes, with the self at their core. Both practices require the subjective being to be at the core of practice, deriving meaning based upon their view of the world. Each practitioner’s experience of a particular event – during the moment of, or after the event – is subjectively unique, drawing upon one’s range of influences – environmental, social and cultural, gender, education, and life experiences. One’s view is unique, with subjective rational and extra-rational faculty responses based upon one’s biological, psychological and cognitive faculties; and affective experience. As Young argued, there is no person in a better position to study practice than the actual unique subject – the practitioner – engaged in that practice. Discrete discriminations being made – during the moment of, or after the event – are best described and explained directly by a subject from a position within this highly complex multi-faculty experience. Talking specifically of contemporary music-making practice, Young notes: to ascertain what discriminations the practitioner is making during composition, one must engage with the music-making practitioner during the compositional process (2015, 150).

3.1.2 My holistic observation of self

As a result of engaging in my scheduled reflective narrative process, I observed I was increasingly being drawn into situations where I was openly discussing aspects of the data generated from the research study. This was in stark contrast to how I had conducted my self previously – immersed in my private self.  I noticed I was willing providing links to learners – peers and students – on a number of occasions, as a result of conversations and expressions of interests for particular aspects of my research study[21]. I have actively written blogs with content aimed at certain learners I was interacting with; and then referred their learner group to these blogs for relevant generic content advice. I noticed, after two (2) years of this research study, I was exhibiting “inter-dependence of practice ” (Ghaye & Lillyman 2014, 27). Perhaps more significantly, I have noticed that I have increasingly been more prepared to speak openly about my varied life experiences; particularly those regarding self-making and meaning-making. I noted I am now more prepared to express my vulnerability, and this most often affords a connection to others. Reflecting, the affective response I feel in these times of human connection is not dissimilar to the connection I feel engaging in roots-based music and sound-making practice (using analogue devices and acoustic based instruments such as guitars and percussion). In terms of an embodied phenomenon, the experience resonates within. I feel complete – genuine, authentic – in that moment in time. Along this pilot study journey, I have noticed I am receiving an increasing amount of positive feedback from learners – peers and students – for my narratives – in written or verbalised form -, instruction, feedback, or support. It is not that I have previously been unappreciated; that would be untrue. However, there seems to be an increase in the number of deeply affected, connected people that I am now interacting with. My perception is that those people perceive my sharing of our interactions as being more genuine than I have been perceived previously. Can I perceive from their comments they are referring to an increased self-awareness I now have of my identity?; the clarity and congruence of my self-cultural system – values, beliefs and attitudes – being aligned to my hybridised/converged form of practice?;  the narratives I am motivated by, the narratives I create, and the narratives I choose to share as a basis of interactions? Do I perceive from their feedback that it is a result of my increased self-awareness of, and integration of the three (3) interdependent tenets of self-making, meaning-making, and practice-making? Do I perceive from the increasing positive feedback I have received over the course of this journey, those people are referring to the perception of the degree of embodiment I have developed within my self? Do I dare consider they see me as being more authentic in my interactions relative to my previously developed self? Whilst these questions potentially form the basis of further study, I do feel such a line of questions is beyond the scope of this research study project. What I do have trust in is: I have recognised the role of conscious, deliberate and systematic reflective & reflexive practice – including the data documentation and the reflective narrative processes – as being instrumental in my developing a more interdependent I-position and voice; and a more holistic hybridised approach to practice. The reflective narratives illuminate how – over time – I managed the dual roles of subject and observer within my creative practice. These narratives note my introduction of conscious, deliberate and systematic reflective & reflexive practice; developing praxis of contemporary music and sound-making practice; and perhaps most significantly, my developing realisation that practice through meaning-making, informs self; and how self through meaning-making, informs practice.

3.2 Holistic interpretations of creative practice

As I progressed through Project 1, I interpreted I was working through specific phases of self-making and meaning-making. I noted though these phases were distinct, they did not necessarily occur in sequential order. I noticed on a number of occasions my returning to different phases – identity-driven practice, value-driven practice, narrative-based practice and embodied practice – to re-examine and reinterpret aspects of self, meaning-making and practice.

Page’s (2017d) idea of a holistic model of authentic practice?

In this section  I share a number of narratives of this Project 1 pilot study, which illuminate the phases of identity-driven practice, value-driven practice, narrative-based practice and embodied practice.

I will highlight three (3) findings across the three (3) years of the study to date, which significantly influenced – and continues to inform – both my creative arts practice; and my research practice. These findings demonstrate the importance of the pilot study process, highlighting aspects of practice I hadn’t previously entertained, encouraging me to investigate these, and expand my investigative review of relevant literature in the process.

3.2.1 A musical style to inspire

Within the first few weeks of my doctoral Project 1 Pilot Study, I considered ideas for the creative project composition. One of the first elements of praxis I focus on is the musical style. I had decided that within this doctoral research study I was going to challenge my self, and choose a musical style that I was not familiar with, in terms of both performance and production. I reflected on what styles of music I had and hadn’t engaged in over the course of my life. I referred to my music influences chart[22] to reflect on these. One musical style I was passionate about, but had never attempted was psychedelic rock. Due to my relative inexperience with this musical style beyond a mere consumer, I committed to exploring this style. I delved into an extensive array of textural and literary resources in order to determine characteristics and qualities of this musical style. Bands such as the Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Who, Pink Floyd, King Crimson and Jimi Hendrix – to name a few very successful artists – experimented with recording and production techniques during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s (Moore 2012). Technology was developing exponentially (large format consoles and analogue hardware devices); there was a US-citizen generated global social movement (aka the peace movement) protesting the allied forces involvement in the Vietnam war; and it became quite common practice amongst the youth, and their icons – artists and musicians – to engage in recreational drug taking (typically, marijuana and hallucinogenics such as LSD) (Théberge 2012; Théberge 1997; Lewisohn 2010). I knew from my years of listening – firstly, holistically as a fan, and then more from an analytical and critical listening[23] point of view as my interest in both music and audio developed (Moylan 2007, pp73-81; Vella with Arthurs 2003, 30; Everest 2007; Corey 2010), psychedelic rock used musical forms and audio processing in distinctly different ways to folk and pop songs.

“Monotonic songs were becoming increasingly popular in those early, heady days of psychedelia; I suppose they were meant to be listened to while you were stoned, or tripping. To my mind, that was really the only way they could be appreciated” (Emerick & Massey 2007, 8).

Psychedelic rock was innovative in the era. In addition to the simple musical form, psychedelic rock relied on analogue processing devices and experimental techniques, using new pieces of equipment, and existing equipment in ways they weren’t necessarily originally designed by the manufacturers to be used (Ryan & Kehew 2006; Moore 2012, 143).  Such experiments were often the result of pure creativity as was the case with many artists of the era. For example, Peter Townsend in the creation of “Baba O’Riley”[24]. Townsend used a new technological device – a sequencer – to develop a hypnotic rhythmic pattern that was stylistically congruent with the genre of psychedelic music. However, more inventive creative practice included use of pre-recorded tape, spliced together in altered ways for interesting effect, slowed down to half speed, or sped up to sometimes double speed, reversed; or with multiple tape players connected in series, or multiple heads placed on the one tape player, in order to create experimental and ambient musical and sonic characteristics (The Who 2007; Lewisohn & McCartney 2005, Ryan & Kehew 2006). As I scoured over my musical influences chart, I highlighted three particular artist names who ventured into what could be considered as psychedelic rock:

• • • The Beatles
    • Pink Floyd, and a lesser known artist around a similar era in Australia,
    • Russell Morris[25]

Early Beatle influences were the three albums, 1966’s “Revolver”[26], 1967’s “Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”[27], and 1968’s “White Album”[28]. The first of the these albums “Revolver” had one song on it which has become known as a significant turning point for the Beatles:

 “Tomorrow Never Knows”[29] was a total departure from anything the Beatles had attempted before. The song consists of three main elements: the hypnotic, riveting ostinato of Ringo Starr’s drums, coupled with the bass, unchanging throughout the entire song; a well-selected assortment of tape loops fed to the faders of a mixing console; and John Lennon’s vocal” (Moorefield 2005, 30).

Having almost exhausted themselves with the hectic touring schedule they had maintained over a number of years, the Beatles were in the process of making a conscious decision to do more in the studio. The band and its management believed they were now positioned to maintain their global popularity through album sales alone, without the necessity to tour and perform (Lewisohn 2010; Everett 1999, Ryan & Kehew 2006, 410). The artists therefore were to have more time in the studios, became more involved in the productions, and “experimented with abandon” (Moorefield 2005, 29). In the case of the Beatles, often the inventive creative practice occurred as a result of a directive by the artist of the producer to achieve a sound they could hear in their heads, but unsure of how they could achieve it with the available technology:

“But my musical tastes didn’t matter here: my job was to give the artist and producer the kinds of sounds they wanted. So my ears perked up when I heard John’s final direction to George “….and I want my voice to sound like the Dalai Lama chanting from a mountaintop, miles away” (Emerick & Massey 2007, 8)[30]

Another major influence on my self was Pink Floyd. My brother was older, and as such had been quite strongly influenced by the social movements. He bought a number of their albums over the previous decade, at an age when I was still developing my musical ear. Pink Floyd produced many albums that I have since listened to – either directly in my household, or via friend’s. However, the most significant album for me remains 1973’s “Dark Side of the Moon”[31].

“I recall many nights, laying on my beanbag in my downstairs bedroom, door shut, overhead room lights off.  Some small desk lamps in the corners – complete with coloured cellophane.

My gramophone player was on, and I embarked on a journey….

I gave in to the moment, closed my eyes, and allowed my self to be transported to the unknown….

I was wandering, no idea of what time or space I was heading to… I was being transported around the galaxy on a musical and sonic tour. 

I floated on the music and sonic textures, as it carried me to another time, to another space..

There was so much to focus in on… at any time, within any space…

Clocks ticking, voices chanting, sonic soars to the left, sonic soars to the right….

The musical and sonic soundscape lifted me up, and propelled me forward,

to far away times and far away spaces – stratospheres and universes…

I was travelling, by my self, in a time and to a place no one else knew of, even existed.

I was travelling in a time and to a place, where no one else existed….

I was travelling in a time and a place, where no one could reach me….

..contact me, speak to me, or disturb my mindful meanderings… 

This was my time – whenever I wanted to visit..

Anytime, any place – every where – every place…

Whenever I wanted to be alone, and mindfully meander ….

I was alone, but not lonely….

There was no one else here to tell me what to do,

or where I had to be…

what I should be doing….

In this moment in time – mindful meandering, listening, exploring, time travelling –

I was alone, but not lonely….

(I was) independent, in charge of my own destiny…

In that moment in time and space, I was me…

In that moment in time and space, I was me…

In that moment in time and space, I was me…

In that moment in time and space,

I was capable of anything.….” (Page 2016b).

I decided the need to explore “Dark Side of the Moon” further in terms of equipment and production process as this juncture, in order to get some more insight as to how I might go about producing a psychedelic styled EP. In addition to listening to the album, I investigated literature such as Reising[32].  He spoke more of the intended aesthetics, and whilst this was useful for me to gain a better understanding of what – in the opinion of the authors – made this album psychedelic, it was not the specifics I was in search of. I therefore turned to more industry-based textual readings for insight of what I may not have yet realised or discovered about this particular album. In articles by Harris[33], Massey[34], Parsons[35], Price[36] and Gallagher[37] – generally from interviews of the engineer of this album, Alan Parsons – they listed significant pieces of equipment used and detailed various aspects of the delineated production process.  I was quite familiar with Parson’s approach through a number of albums I listened to earlier in my life. Parson’s used multi-layered arrangements and arrangement style. The pieces of equipment mentioned in these articles were of specific microphones, synthesisers, instruments and amplifiers used. However, most importantly, the articles discussed a number of production techniques that I was familiar with, that had become standards practice in contemporary music-making. However, standard practice that did not necessarily rely on acoustic instruments or typical live-guitar performance devices[38]. I knew how many of these musical and sonic tones could be achieved, but through the virtual world of instruments and samples. I could not see at this stage, how I could recreate any of these psychedelic-style musical and sonic tones through the external hardware device options I currently had in my live rig, or had access to.

I therefore began my investigation of music and sound styles in earnest. I derived the development history of contemporary mainstream music production practice. However, I was not prepared for what I began to reveal in the closing portion of Project 1. As my investigations continued, I started to realise the diverse lineage mainstream popular music drew upon, including that of electroacoustic and sonic art-based. I had not previously recognised the lineage mainstream popular music influences was connected to what I had categorised in early 2015 as electronic influenced/soundtrack/experimental music. If one was to look at my music influences chart (see Appendix 1) what you may observe is how I categorised my musical influences in early 2015: music and sound styles (for example, country flavoured rock); an orientation of the artist and the message (for example, confessional, or political/social); a medium where I consumed the music (for example, radio pop); or a person I was influenced by (for example, sister, older brother, best friend, mother or partner). You may also note that I did not have clarity regarding the categories I have determined very late in my Project 1 Pilot Study: roots-based, High-Art-based, and electroacoustic and sonic art-based approaches. For example, in my 2015 musicology chart I classify one of my influences from my mother as European. I know at the time of writing this chart, I did not have the degree of clarity as to how European music differed in terms of composition, production and consumption as I have not post Project 1 Pilot Study. I categorised another style of musical influence as electronic influenced/soundtrack/experimental. I then listed a broad range of exemplar artist names as independent branches under this broad title along side each other; with little effort made to further sub-categorise under more accurately described sub-headed groups. Another broad category to the side of electronic influenced/soundtrack/experimental was new age, where I had listed a number of soundscape exemplar artists including Les Gilbert (1996), Anton Hughes (1997) and Tony O’Connor (1999) all side by side. At this stage of the Project 1 Pilot Study, I am now inclined to categorise soundscapes – natural and musically embellished soundscapes – along side soundtracks and experimental music, a likely sub-set of electroacoustic and sonic art-based approach to music-making practice. In 2015 I made no mention of such a lineage. Another broad category to the side of new age wassongwriters/composers/producers with examples of roots-based, High-Art-based, and electroacoustic and sonic art-based approaches all side by side, in no particular order. Post my Project 1 Pilot Study investigations I now hold a different perspective of categorisation of music and sound styles, and the three broad approaches to music-making practice. This needs far greater investigation, which I have planned to continue in Project 2.

3.2.2 Head-chatter and Inner Speech

The most significant element I had noted to be part of my developing music praxis – beyond the initial six (6) elements I had observed at the time of my Project Brief submission – was listening. Listening to music and sonics as part of the creative production process; specific focussed listening for research; listening in general for relaxation (musicking); and, listening to my self. In listening before practice, listening in practice, and listening after practice, I started to gain a sense as to how much listening I was doing across any given day. Over time, I became more self-aware of what I was doing within each phase of listening. I acknowledged for example, musicking was a method I used to stay connected to my self, at times when I wasn’t engaged in music and sound-making creative practice. During these off-times of practice, I experienced resonance in the practice of musicking. Perhaps most significantly, as I progressed in this Project pilot study, I gradually became more aware of another level of listening:

the increasing presence of what I had referred to over the previous several decades as head-chatter. My first conscious recollection of head-chatter was in my early-twenties. With the benefit of hindsight and the holistic perspective afforded over time, head-chatter for me was the outpouring of my inner fears as I approached new social experiences. This head-chatter was usually indistinguishable as a language. It was often rapid-fire in terms of tempo, and erratic in terms of spatial direction and order. The experience was accompanied with rapidly rising levels of anxiety, resulting in me becoming progressively disorientated and unable to concentrate. In extreme cases, the anxiety was debilitating. With much study, attending workshops[39], pursuing certain activity routines[40], and conscious practice, I learnt over a number of years to control my anxiety. I achieved this by learning to interpret the often-indistinguishable angst-ridden head-chatter into inner monologue that I could understand and interact with. This process involved me finding quiet time, putting my self into a meditative state, and streaming my thoughts onto paper until such time I had determined what I believed to be the core of the anxiety that I was facing at the time. In the process of arriving at this place, an inner voice gained more intelligibility and presence, directing me along a stream of thought. By my early-thirties I had learnt to use this interpretive process, allowing me to consciously talk my self through anxiety to a place of calmness, where I could then regain my concentration and focus (Sokolov 1973; Emerson 1983; Wiley 2016). I continued to develop this practice throughout my life – attending many more workshops and reading in volumes[41]. It became a very reliable focus tool – irrespective of the degree of anxiety I had been experiencing, assisting me in preparing for many forms of social interaction (Toman 2012; Robbins 1991). The primary application was that of public performance, be it: public speaking, education practice (as educator), learning practice (as a learner of a formal instrument or personal development in a class situation), leadership in the corporate sector, and my music-making practice (specifically, in my band rehearsal and on stage performance). However, I had never consciously recognised, considered, or explored either my head-chatter or my inner speech beyond this developed process, and application to this specific stage of practice.

Progressing in this Project 1 pilot study, engaging in the creative stage of my music-making practice, I observed a great deal of head-chatter accompanying me into the studio – an experience I hadn’t observed previously in this context. I noted in my music-making practice sessions I was feeling progressively more anxious – panicked – given my failed attempts to find a theme for this creative project that resonated with me. I was doubting my self – feeling vulnerable. I hadn’t recalled feeling like this, in this stage of practice before. As the weeks of practice rolled around, I became more anxious to a level of debilitation. I caught my self several times seriously doubting my ability to be able to produce what I was aiming to do.

3.2.3 Effect of Anxiety on Creative Practice

As Csikszentmihalyi notes, creative “(f)low is experienced when people perceive opportunities for action as being evenly matched by their capabilities”; in the contrasting situation, “(w)hen a person is bombarded with demands which he or she feels unable to meet, a state of anxiety ensues” (Csikszentmihalyi 2000, 50). Whilst it was hardly reassuring, it provided me a clue of what I needed to do in order to address the situation. I considered whether it was time to step away from my practice and immerse my self into a grounding activity. I had to reconnect to my self. Given the context – the stage of practice I was engaged in at the time, I thought engaging in a process of reflective writing – stream of consciousness would be appropriate (Wiley 2016, 7). I knew from previous experience of this process, I should be able to interpret the indistinguishable angst-ridden head-chatter into inner monologue that I could understand and then interact with (Wiley 2016, 8). I had hoped that this process was going to allow me to consciously talk through my current situation, and hopefully gain clarity as to the core of my anxiety. Embarking on this process, I encouraged my self: this was after all, just another opportunity to make meaning of this new experience (Kegan 1982, 2-3).

I consciously made an effort to step away from my practice as I had done so many times previously in my performance stage of various practice. In a quiet time and place, I reflected through recording my thoughts (Boud 2001; Boud et all 2013). An example of the inner monologue from one of these sessions that I finally arrived at after many minutes of streaming my thoughts, was:

“what happens if this is one of those creative energy droughts?” I considered….. “A dry spell that lasts for several months, or years as has happened in the past? What then?” (Page 2016d).

Clearly there were a lot of devaluing thoughts, thoughts that were reflecting the poor level of self-confidence I had at this time, in this stage of practice. Whilst I was away from my practice, I considered at this time how much the current dual role pilot study was such a new and unusual experience for my life experience and me. Given this, perhaps such levels of anxiety should not be unexpected?  I observed I was not grounded in my self, a state I knew I needed to be in to be truly creative – to be an effective creative practitioner[42]. I did not feel in my body, able to optimise engagement in my practice. However, it should have not been surprising I was not so at this time, given recent events. Of the activity routines I had developed over the previous several decades (eg: physical exercise such as jogging, swimming in salt water, walking bare feet along a sandy shore line, bush walking, gardening/landscaping or practicing martial arts), I was virtually stagnant. Following surgery in December 2015 I had to convalesce, and had been prohibited from being in water, and exerting my self physically. However, less surprising was the lack of engagement in the other range of activity routines I had developed over the previous several decades, that didn’t require physical engagement (eg: or some form of meditative activity such as meditation, playing guitar and creative writing). Due to the commitment I had made to this course of study, along with my workplace commitments, I found that I had little time left for my self. I made little time for my self, depriving my self of the necessary grounding.  Unfortunately, not listening to my self at the time, I continued on my path in what could only be described as a negative spiral – a dynamic spiral, deepening into anxiety. As more time progressed, I increasingly doubted my ability to be engaged in this doctoral program. At times I felt like an imposter: a state I had heard previous doctoral program peers speak of – one of the many emotional thoughts that was apparently – predictably – going to wash over a post-graduate research student’s mind during their post-graduate journey, at some point in time. The fact that it was happening to me was therefore not so surprising. I had come to expect to have such thoughts at some point in my post-graduate journey. However what did surprise me was, how early in this Project 1 pilot study experience I was having such thoughts. I was only a couple of months into a twenty-four month pilot study. Immersing my self in academic literature for my Project brief submission, as well perhaps the medical operation, I hadn’t had a guitar in my hand now for many months.  Prior to commencing this doctoral study, playing guitar had been a daily ritual for the previous three (3) decades. Without a clear sense of my self, I resorted to applying another level of grounding techniques that were familiar to me – that of Educational Kinesiology [EK], Feldenkrais and Neuro Linguistic Programing [NLP] (Parker & Stuart 1986; Feldenkrais 1977; Hannaford 1995; Lewis & Pucelik 1990; O’Connor & Seymour 1990). Whilst helpful in providing some periods of relief from my anxiety, I observed that as soon as I returned to my practice for the purposes of this pilot study, I could feel my levels of anxiety rising once again.

Recalling the advice of one of my doctoral assessors, I returned to my approved Project Brief and re-read over the Project Brief Aims and Objectives. In going through this process, I was reminded that I needed to be proactive with my research practice, recording my thoughts as I considered my practice – each and every stage of practice – in some form. I understood the potential benefit of my chosen research method – reflective practice – on my practitioner self:

“reflection assists in the development of analytical skills moving practitioners away from their descriptive approach, and therefore affecting how they perceive their practice” (Gibbs 1983 in Ghaye & Lillyman 1997, 24).

I had already commenced using several mediums for noting down my observations: i-Notes for my more casual spontaneous observations; and my publically-hosted blog-site as a motivator to craft the data (observations) into narratives that I could publish on my practitioner site, sharing my journey with others. However, I was also starting to observe anxiety within my self in this aspect of practice – research practice, as opposed to my music-making practice.

20160215 2:00pm My frustration for the current moment is that I am intent on doing anything that I do at any time – successfully … So how is this going to work in this formal pilot study situation attempting dual roles? How can I do what I do – make music AND observe my self at the same time whilst in that process? (Page 2016e).

In the second (2^nd) month of this pilot study, I was gaining first-hand experience in the challenges of a dual-role auto-ethnographic study as I had originally thought may be problematic:

20160222 9:30am “I reflect how little time I have had to creatively write, and develop my craft.. ohh  god I miss it… I yearn for it as though it is a love that have been lost… I feel anguished ……  missing of it as if it is on the other side of the world…. so nice to see a great movie like “Once” to remind me of what is means to me, and how much I miss my craft….. This doctorate is such an, such an out-of-control ‘intervention’ L ” (Page 2016f).

I noted my head chatter was again rising to prominence. It was now clearly present. It was like a sonic whirring in my head while I was trying to practice. At night, away from my practice I deciphered the angst-ridden head-chatter into inner speech and noted:

 “arghhhhh!!!!!!!!!!………… Not another one of those creative dry spells today….. man oh man…. I got nothing ………………….

(I am) so busy trying to work how to observe me (– the subject -) in the music-making practice, that I am stopping him (me? the other self in the room?) from being in the moment… How can he possibly be present in the moment to focus and create, when I am in the room observing him at every point??” (Page 2016g).

In reading back the reflective journal entry I observed the tone over the multiple pages as the session progressed. At the outset, the written communication was a garbled incoherent dump of thoughts, with a very emotional tone, steeped in frustration and/or anger. As the session progressed – by the midway point of the stream of conscious session, the written communication slowly became more legible, then coherent, with a progressively more balanced tone. By the near end of the reflection session, the tone was generally quite balanced; and by the end, humbled. I liken the process to an event in nature – a freak summer thunderstorm: when the eye of a storm appears overhead without warning: unpredictable and erratic, with the frozen hail pelting down at all angles; trees being bent over to the point that their trunks can with stand, then uprooted; debris such as branches, leaves and anything else not secured, swirling in the twister like wind.  Then, as the storm-centre progressively moves away, the swirling rain and hail reduces to that of heavy rain; then progressively to light rain, a light shower, and then calm. At this point, the birds return to the skies and trees, chirping. In most cases (in Brisbane Australia), the sun shines again. Once I have arrived at this humbled state of calm in one of these away from practice grounding sessions, I can reflect on the need for an alternate approach to the situation, and reflexively prepare for another practice session the following day. However, just two (2) days later, there was a continued tone of anxiety with the practitioner self being distracted by the non-creative requirements of this doctoral research study:

“How frustrated I got today with the websites… Ignorant, clearly not my skill, and not my primary interest (my interest is primarily to perform and create rather than in the curating of matters related to my music-making practice); and yet as a DIY practitioner, I have to be abreast of this medium, and most importantly, have access to and engage with it on a daily basis for my profession, professional practice and to maintain currency. So much to learn and so little time……”  (i-Notes 2016h).

A further day later, despondency was starting to come into existence; this time due to what are normal non-creative requirements of my music-making practice:

“It is interesting to realise how significant a drain the administration aspects of my practice are. The keeping the system running, researching new products and processes, evaluating these, making purchases, maintaining updates, maintaining records of passwords, updates, etc, and progressively doing my accounts. It takes time away from my day, almost every other day. Then combined with my new focus – with my new commitment – reflective practice stops are only going to add to the burden, and time stolen AWAY from my practice, during this research study……”(i-Notes 2016i).

The following day, despondency was rife as to the challenges of a dual-role auto-ethnographic study as I had originally flagged:

Fuck!!!!!!!!!!!! How is this meant to work?

(I am) so busy trying to work how to observe me – the subject – in his music-making practice, that I am stopping him (me? the other self in the room?) from being in the moment…

How am I expected to do this? How can I be present – in the moment – focussing as an observer, and simultaneously – focussing as a creative?? It just can’t work!!!” (Page 2016j).

Shortly later, after a streaming session, I wrote the following monologue in a more humbled coherent state of calm, reminding my self of my required workflow as a music-making practitioner:

“Creativity is a fluid action that – for me. It relies on stream of consciousness – a natural process – streaming creativity energy – flow – that (must) occurs without interruption. To interrupt this process is to lose that creative energy – that flow – into the ether forever….. To interrupt this process, to stop and consider what I am doing or how the process I am engaged in at that moment is occurring, at any point in time, has the equivalency of death….”  (i-Notes 2016k).

As a songwriter I have for many years engaged in the initial stages of the creative writing process – to generate ideas – using a stream of consciousness process[43]. Similar to that which Csikszentmihalyi describes as creative flow, writing commences from a specific stimuli, writing continuously, pursuing a thought process without stopping for contemplation, progressively immersing one self into the moment. As the process continues, one narrows ones’ focus in on a central theme, until the point of a specific topic and line of thought flows out onto the recording document (paper, electronic type or audio device). As a necessary part of the process I actually move into a semi-conscious state. Interrupting this process causes a break in the creative energy flow, and in my experience, the moment is lost. Finally, a number of days following after continued, similar results:

20160305 “How am I meant to do such a friggin’ auto-ethnographic study?…. fuck!!!!!!!!!!!! How is it possible to play two roles at once!”. “Ya think??? Did you possibly think? Did you?? Did you?? Fuckk…. what was I thinking?……………… I knew I was fuckin’ crazy to think that I could do this!”…….

……………[some passages later]

“How am I meant to do such a doctoral study?”…..

Then, sweeping over me (as an imagined response from my supervisor) ….  “don’t worry Dave, we knew you didn’t have it in you” (Page 2016l).

I felt defeated. I felt debilitated. I could not see at that moment my way past this point. I knew something had to change at this moment – drastically. I had tried a number of alternate methods to be both subject and observer, but all within a similar perspective. There had to be another way – another perspective to look to engage in these dual-roles. I knew it was time – I needed time out and distance away from my practice. Following a quiet dinner with my wife, not saying much, I sat alone in a quiet corner of the house where I do not often venture. I dimmed the lights, put on a lava lamp, had pen and paper in hand, closed me eyes, and reflected upon what I was attempting to do in this pilot study.

20160306 “There had to be a way through this.. After all, ethnography was a thing.. Brydie’s book[44] has at least (10) chapters from various auto-ethnographers with their studies.. It was a thing right? Right!” (Page 2016m).

I returned to reflect on my many journal entries and came to pause on that last monologue, replaying it in my head, over and over. Over time, what struck me was that it wasn’t a monologue. This inner speech event was different. It was actually a dialogue with two voices. A very simple dialogue, but a dialogue nonetheless. I hadn’t noted this before. Wiley proposes the two inner voices of the self can carry out a dialogue explicitly, or implicitly:

“The two voices, internal and external, would be… aimed at two different audiences. The inner voice would be aimed exclusively and privately at the self. This voice controls the thinking process, organizes the stream of consciousness, and steers the dialogical self. The outer voice, in addition to being a variety of self-regulation, would be a rehearsal for communicating with others” (Wiley 2016, 25).

I noted that it was a dialogue with the self expressing two alternate perspectives. I contemplated that this was curious, not being to find or recall other instances of me streaming in dialogue. My inner monologues consisted of a series of statements –  a narrative with a particular train of thought – from within the one voice. This was curious. My curiosity had been raised enough that I decided I needed to investigate my inner voice – my inner speech – , further. 

3.2.4 Dual role approach required

I was now taking the time to schedule reflection sessions, away from practice (time and place), with specific tasks to achieve within each session. Over the next few sessions, I focused consciously, deliberately and systematically on my challenge to balance the dual roles of subject and observer. Some of the questions I noted down near the end of these sessions that I needed to seek answers to were:

• • were the dual roles music-maker and observer in fact inhibitive, prohibitive, or actually mutually exclusive?
  • was my challenge in balancing the dual roles of subject and observer in any way due to the fact that I had a finite amount of time, given I was working the equivalent of two full-time roles?
  • was my challenge balancing the dual roles of subject and observer in any way due to the fact that I was a single-focused person, and could effectively conduct my self in only one form of practice, at any one time? Or,
  • was my challenge balancing the dual roles of subject and observer in any way due to the fact that in this particular dual role scenario, I had to be aware of, and ready to perform at any moment of time, both of the dual roles of subject and observer? or,
  • was my challenge balancing the dual roles of subject and observer in any way due to the fact that this was a new experience for me – performing the dual roles of subject and observer, which I had yet to develop a practice workflow for such a unique role application as I had in this pilot auto-ethnographic study?

I knew from a growing amount of auto-ethnographic literature creative practitioners were proactively engaged in this dual role practice-led research (Gray and Malins 2004; Liamputtong and Rumbold 2008; Smith and Dean 2009; Biggs and Karlsson 2011; Bartleet & Ellis 2009; Dogantan-Dack 2015).  I needed to explore the literature further to determine whether they had faced similar challenges, and of so; how they mediated their way through the dual role process in order to ensure I achieve validity and rigour of process, to realise worthy data. In a following session, in order to gain some clarity and re-confirm within my self the needs of this pilot study and my responsibilities, I returned to my initial idea of this research project proposal. I restated the objectives I was attempting to achieve:

• • In my role as a music-making practitioner: I needed to practice, across all five (5) stages of practice. I was already observing that these five (5) stages did not necessarily occur sequentially. In fact, often they occurred concurrently;
  • In my role as a research practitioner: I needed to observe what it was I was doing in my practice, across all five (5) stages of practice. I needed to make notes of what I had observed – that is, to record data – in order to return to the data at a later time to consider what had been recorded, and be in a position to analyse it;
  • Additionally, in my role of music-making practitioner and research practitioner: I also needed to continue to develop both my academic knowledge and my industry knowledge in order to situate and explain both my music-making practice, and my research practice.

I knew I had to develop a workflow for this new scenario. I needed some order and systematic process to conduct my self in this new dual practice role of both subject and observer. Now I was engaged in this pilot study, in a practice-led investigative study, how was I best to conduct my self within these dual practice roles, in order to realise my aims:

“to ensure there are a diverse range of reflective devices and mediums in order to capture the data, so that these multi-methods can then be used to distil the true data about my self and processes, in order to crystalize the outcomes and conclusions”, demonstrating academic rigour, guarding against bias (Page 2016n).

I naturally took a dual role approach in my life in general. To mention but a few of my practices that I had done concurrently across my life, I was currently both a music-making practitioner and an education & learning practitioner. In fact, at a number of times in my life, I had carried out these dual roles. However, despite familiarity with dual practitioner roles, there was something that I found quite overwhelming in this specific dual role scenario. It was as though one practitioner role was inhibiting – sorry, stifling – the other practitioner role. It was as though the practitioner role of researcher observer was inhibiting – stifling – the other practitioner role of music-making practitioner. Even more alarming, I observed that any issues I was having in either form of practice, as either the researcher observer practitioner self or the music-making practitioner self, there was a flow on effect – a noticeable negative effect, on my self.  I was compelled to turn to literature in order to gain more insight. As I came to discover, there was much written on the self, motive and identity across many different disciplines. In terms of Psychology, I explored historical works in order to gain a global perspective of how discourse around self, motive and identity has evolved over the past century. I attempted to digest the works of Freud, Jung, Adler, Horney, Fromm, Sullivan, Erikson from a Psychodynamic perspective; the works of Rogers, Maslow and May from a Humanistic perspective; the works of Allport and Catrell from a Trait perspective; the works of Skinner from a Behaviourist Perspective; and the works of Kelly and Bandura from a Cognitive perspective (Ewen 2003).  I had varying degrees of familiarity with many of these perspectives from my undergraduate studies in business and management, my post-graduate studies in education and governance, and much through my own self-initiated readings.  It was however interesting, whilst revisiting these perspectives, to narrow my focus to self and identity, and how these develop over time and age. In terms of the developing history of psychology, I noted the early 20^th Century Freudian perspective on what anxiety is, and how it is created. According to Ewen, Freud saw the ego responding to external (from the outside world) and internal threats (within self) “with anxiety, a highly unpleasant emotion that is similar to intense nervousness. Anxiety does serve a self-preservative function, however: it readies the individual for appropriate action, so a limited amount is both normal and desirable” (Ewen 2003, 20).  I realise that I have still much to learn regarding subjective self and meaning-making. I am keen to continue my investigation of self and faculty responses into Project 2.

3.2.5 Observations of my developing perspective

As Project 1 pilot study unfolded, I observed my developing perspective of music and sound-making practice. I now acknowledge the line between my music and sound-making practice and my non-music and sound-making practice is now very blurred – if not feint. It appears to have converged, with music and sound-making practice, and that of musicking becoming a hybrid form of music and sound-making practice for me. Within my head, in most environments, I now hear a soundtrack unfolding before me, over time. The primary governing factor appears to be, whether I am in a state – a personal space – to authentically engage in – listening, consuming – the surrounding environment. It is in this state of flow, I allow my self to resonate with the environment. In this space, I allow my self to immerse in the urban, rural or natural environment unfolding around me. In this state, I allow my self to engage in the environment as an embodied being, allowing the unfolding sound events to trigger a memory, or my imagination. When I am in this personal space and allow my self to do so, I often find my self breaking a smile at this point; enjoying the aesthetic of the moment, re-situating one self into a past event, or another location; whilst often simultaneously in full-flight in an unrelated form of practice[45]. I may look around the current site of practice I am in at that moment, and if/as one of the participants asks for assistance, I re-immerse my self back into that moment in time, and interact with that person in full presence. At that moment, I am. I am experiencing every moment both as private self, and social self. It is for me the best example of experiencing multiple-I positions. I am music-making – musicking – within the environment by allowing my self to focus on an unfolding soundtrack, over time. A soundtrack that is not created using traditional musical instruments; a sound track that unfolds over time within that environment, drawing on any material generated from within that environment. That soundtrack supports me, as I make-meaning of that soundtrack at that particular point in time, based on my individual experience, memories, emotions and creative choices within my imagination. Concurrently, I am self-making. I am developing my self-image and self-concept based on that experience of both music-making and meaning-making, at that moment of time. I then return to the immediate context – the particular environment of my practice at that moment in time, and engage with someone in real time, assisting them as they require.  I am. On this note, I return to my conclusion of Moore’s (2012, 1) quote in Chapter 1:

‘music can be a useful resource in the development of the self – a way we can develop our identities; it is likely to be an individual experience in terms of deriving meaning; and a way to support the communication of our identities in social and cultural settings’.

I can say confidently, as a result of engaging in my Project 1 Pilot Study, I now have greater clarity regarding my music and sound-making practice. However, the process has been far being a simple one. I had been warned that auto-ethnographic research studies would likely be an affective experience, both revealing and confronting. The warning was appropriate. The journey to date has been both, and so much more. At this stage of the research study, in few ways do I consider my self to be the same practitioner as when I considered embarking on this post-doctoral journey in 2014.  In few ways do I consider my self to be the same person. Whilst I still don’t feel academic, I do note my ability to draw on a wide range of knowledge, and offer more frequent insight to those around me from a place of greater conviction, than I had previously. This is perhaps not surprising given the volume of titles of books, articles, and artifacts[46]  I have either read or at least skimmed and pondered their relevance to my particular pilot study. The phrase music-making, meaning-making and self-making has very clear meaning for me today, that more than likely would have glanced off my ears some two years months ago. I now ponder what I may understand in another two year that may currently glance off my ears?  This thought now excites me, despite knowing that in the next Project 2 I am again likely to experience overwhelm and varying levels of anxiousness. I now understand these states represent a disparity between self-image, (in-) experience and self-esteem, that which can only be re-aligned through continuing to practice and realising the learning required. I now accept in the pursuit of new knowledge, as someone on a deliberate path of adaptive learning for fully-functionality and self-actualisation, experiencing these extra-rational faculty affective states are somewhat necessary. Academics such as Csikszentmihalyi (2000; 2014), Ohman (2010), Fredrickson & Cohn (2010), Kensinger & Schacter (2010) connect overwhelm and anxiousness as emotional extra-rational faculty affective states associated with, and having an effect on self-making, meaning-making and practice. As a result of this Project 1 pilot study, I now better understand multiple selves; the causal relationship of emotion, memory and values of self or selves in practice; and how they may influence my decision-making across the broad elements and stages of practice. I can see clearly now[47] how one’s practice informs one’s self, and how one’s self informs one’s practice. I now accept my music-making practice, my creative practice – in fact all of the forms of my practice – as “technology of the self”(Foucault 1988, 16).

3.2.6 More examples of data gathered in the pilot study

Over the course of Project 1’s Pilot Study, I have generated an enormous amount of diverse data across two areas: the demonstration of valid methodology and the application of appropriate methods; and the contextualization of the research study within relevant literary and textural resources. Examples of data collected are: reflective practice observation notes; excel documents plotting quantifiable aspects of the reflective and reflexive practice process; a textural description of the field and discipline explaining the historical developments and lineage; a literature review critically analyzing academic theory informing the contemporary discipline; a sketch of a music and sound-based cultural production; and a personalized narrative of my journey through Project 1 – the  Pilot Study – to date. I explored, investigated and generated data in my genuine attempt to determine my rational and extra-rational voice within each of the three research study practice areas outlined earlier in Chapter 3: that of my creative practitioner self; my methodological research practitioner self; and my literature and textural resource research practitioner self. As a creative practitioner without prior formal higher education academic research study experience, the task proved to be daunting. Irrespective of my initial negative faculty responses such as anxiety and at times complete overwhelm, with just over three years invested in the program I know I have developed significantly across all three forms of practice. My journey is not yet over; with much distance still to travel in order to further develop my multiple voices of practice to the required academic standard. However, to conclude this Project 1 submission I felt it appropriate to outline some of the interpretive findings that I have made to date. In terms of the first half of the question – why I felt I had a connection with one form of music-making (acoustic instrument-based).

3.2.7 Examples of interpretive findings – music and sound making practice

From the age of ten (10) years of age I had a guitar in my hands, learning to play a range of guitar -based musical styles, including pop, folk, country, rock, R+B, blues, to name a few. I approached learning an instrument in an experiential social learning model, relying on mimicking and anecdotal tips and tricks through relatives, neighbours and local casual instrumental teachers. I acquired inadvertently – over time – homogenous elements of duration, pitch, dynamics and timbre through mimicking and anecdotal teachings; self-directed guitar instruction books and chords charts; and most importantly, listening to the radio and the limited records (45s and albums) I had access to.  I was particularly drawn to folk-based and country-based artists of the era[48], and therefore the form and structure of the songs I was playing adhered to traditions within those musical styles. The guitar as a roots-based instrument is used primarily to create and communicate narratives of everyday life.

The guitar is a physical instrument, crafted of natural mediums such as wood; and manufactured products such as wire and steel. The instrument – unlike the piano which adorned my rumpus room – was light enough to pick up with one hand; and yet large enough as a small boy to need to embrace the instrument in order to strum the strings, and reach over to press the strings down on the neck. As a result, the resonance generated from the instrument was felt through my body – my chest, stomach, arms, legs and head. The instrument is versatile, able to be played soft enough to play after a long day, reflecting and soothing a tired or heavy soul. However, an acoustic guitar can also be played loud enough to wake a family and annoy the neighbours: it can be amplified, and project down the valley and beyond. As an instrument it can be held, strummed, plucked, finger-picked, lightly stroked, caressed with one’s palm, banged, pulled on, strangled and bent to make an array of sounds on the sonic scape. It is a very versatile instrument – my instrument of choice. As my guitar neck hand developed – for me, my right hand – I ventured into learning additional chords to the initial open chords I acquired. I approached this is a very systematic manner, learning bar chords with the root note on the 6^th string, on the 5^th string, and on the 4^th string. I did not have immediate strength in my hands, but I experimented and practiced until my right hand strength developed. I had considered I had achieved this goal when I could hear each of the strings cleanly resonate.

As time passed, I became more encouraged to progress my technical agency, embracing applied theoretical knowledge[49]; and physically by consciously, deliberately and systematically improving the strength and stretch of my hands and fingers. I then spent the next several years developing these aspects of my music-making practice, eventually realizing a level of flow in my playing. Inline with the traditions of the musical styles I embraced, I followed traditional musical structure and form in creating my own pieces. Whilst initially I was employing trial and error – real time auditioning – to create compositions[50], I developed over time my ability to inner audition and know what harmonic, melodic and rhythmic element options I could discriminate between away from – or without playing – the instrument. The degree of rational and extra-rational faculties I employed – namely memories and imagination – was primarily to create the lyrical narratives; and the overall arrangement of the song. The structure and form maintained respect for the traditions of those musical styles. By this stage of my development, I was considered by peers to have a level of routine expertise and often invited for social jam sessions by neighbours and friends from school. In this era, everyday consumption of music – musicking – was not commonplace. It was however for me, as I explored a range of musical styles and songs to expand my performance repertoire. I approached music-making practice as a craft-based practice, effectively assigning a task of what I was next to achieve. My approach was very systematic – a competency outcome approach to learning an instrument. As my technical functional agency developed, I sought to learn other functional tasks of what was effectively a sequential delineated recording process: production, pre-production, and post-production skills. In that era of music-making such experience was gained through experimentation with the increasing number of technologies accessible for domestic use[51]; or through local recording studios often located in a space at the rear of a local music store. I do recall an attitude of respect for the professionals who engaged in the music-making production process; and me desiring an opportunity to join a traditional type studio to learn one of the many delineated recording process specialist roles as a trade.

However, as technology developed in the mid to late 1980’s, and alternative music-making devices became available, I moved from acoustic and analogue technologies to digital and digital virtual technologies. In doing so, I was immediately confronted with a foreign environment. Firstly, I viewed virtual technologies very differently to analogue and acoustic technologies. The actual device that housed the music-making application software (DAW) was a computer. I saw a computer as an administrative device, rather than a music and sound-making device. I therefore viewed the music-making application software (DAW) embedded within the computer as something quite removed from my self. Engaging with a computer was not the same physiological experience as being in a large format studio control room. An analogue studio console with faders and potentiometers was a tactile experience. Studio equipment generally consisted of large resonant devices that one could embrace and/or feel the resonant qualities as they are played. In contrast to roots-based approach to music-making practice, virtual digital technologies afford conflated workflows that align with social DIY cultural imperatives. Exponentially greater access to these technologies for anyone who wishes to engage in contemporary music-making practice affords those practitioners workflows, which were not available in traditional music-making production models available to previous generations. However, much of the technologies and workflow in virtual digital technologies align closely with the experimental lineage of the electroacoustic music and sonic art-based approach to music-making practice, which existed many decades earlier to the DIY revolution. In today’s highly fragmented world, because music-making has become a highly hybrid – convergent – practice, contemporary practitioners need to understand the lineage and heritage of all three approaches to music-making practice, to better understand how they as a practitioner can effectively engage with the technologies and workflows required in any particular hybrid – convergent – musical style. In my initial decade of engaging in virtual digital technologies, I did not fully understand the lineage of the highly hybrid – convergent – practice and as a result I over looked a number of key differences in the required approach. I was starting to suspect at a deep level, that my attempts to derive meaning from my music –making practice was not going to be just found in the varied elements of praxis I had determined, such as musical styles, site, technology, and work flows. I was increasingly noticing there were inadequacies in my attempts to explain my connection to one form of music-making practice and not another form of music-making practice relying only on the elements of praxis. Rather than focussing on elements of praxis, I was revealing evidence in my investigative readings that these connections may be differently explained by considering approaches to music and sound-making practice. I had up until this point been primarily focussing on increasing hybridised mainstream pop forms of music, such as Moore uses as the basis of his analysis of contemporary music-making practice (Moore 2012). Immersed within my own bias of learning and development to an increasingly hybridised form of music-making practice that I was influenced by, and subsequently drawn to at a very young age, I had not considered other approaches that had been progressively appropriated by music-making practitioners over the proceeding decades. This realisation is currently unfolding; proving to be a pivotal – a catalytic, an epiphanic moment – in my research study. As I have yet to complete a thorough literature and contextual review at the time of submitting Project 1, I intend to continue to investigate this and include it as a second Literature and Contextual resource review chapter in my Project 2 document. However I feel it is timely to now some observations. At this stage of my investigations, there appears to be differences between three (3) broadly categorised approaches to music and sound-making practice: that of roots-based, High Arts-based and electroacoustic and sonic arts-based approaches to music and sound-making practice. My initial investigations have indicated there are differences within these approaches to music and sound-making practice, when comparing and contrasting the various stages of practice – that of learning, composition, production and consumption. My purpose in this research study remains; to investigate why I felt I had a connection with one form of music-making (acoustic instrument-based), and not a connection with another form of music-making (digital virtual-based). I had up until this point relied on the two disparate terms in my problem: acoustic instrument-based form of music-making and virtual virtual-based form of music-making. However, these two terms were attempting to differentiate between the incomparable elements of praxis – technologies and site. On the one hand, a physical tool with which one can make music – an acoustic instrument; and the other a non-musical technological device – a computer – which houses a digital virtual environment in which one can make music within. My change of focus from what could be described as a more micro level of elements of praxis; to a more macro level of analysis – to that of approaches to music-making practice has allowed me to re-focus my investigative lens. Whilst my focus still remains in specific stages of practice, I am starting to highlight differences in roots-based, High Arts-based and electroacoustic and sonic arts-based approaches to music and sound-making practice. Differences in: structure and form; stages of practice; and, qualities and characteristics of the practitioners engaged in the various approaches to practice.  In contrast to roots-based and High Art-based approaches to music-making practice, an electroacoustic and sonic art-based approach draws primarily on lineage from an experimental form of music and sound.  Rather than relying on homogenous elements of duration, pitch, dynamics and timbre, experimental forms of music and sound draw on sound objects with heterogeneous forms of mass, spatialisation, and sequence. Sonic transformation is ubiquitous (Roads 2015, xi). Whilst convergent music and sound styles are likely to have a fusion of both heterogeneous and homogenous forms, I found by me NOT having this understanding impacted my overall experience engaging in virtual digital environments. In contrast to traditional musicological terms of structure and form, electroacoustic and sonic art-based approaches use the broader more generic terms of materials, tools and structure.  Broader terms allow broader interpretation and possibility of what materials, tools and structures are considered possible to use. With many of these conflated workflows occurring live, an electroacoustic and sonic art-based practitioner necessarily draws on extensive musicological and sonic functional agency; and rational and extra-rational faculties agency as they effectively improvise their compositional performance live. Contemporary digital virtual conflated workflows require a holistic perspective and functionality. Electroacoustic and sonic art-based live compositional performance requires developed functional and faculties agency such as: very broadly defined materials and tools; heterogeneous structures of mass, spatialisation, and sequence; real-time auditioning and diverse deep listening capabilities in order to improvise creatively and spontaneously across varied textures; and, socially and culturally embedded imagination to create complex narrative constructions in spatially vast imaginary musical and sonic soundcapes.

I was starting to consider the potential implications of an approach to music and sound-making practice perspective. For me as a roots-based composer, I work systematically through a delineated functional task. I do improvise in my music-making practice, but I improvise around a homogenous structure and form. I have developed musicological and sonic functional agency from experience gained in traditional delineated acoustic and analogue –centric music-making practice; with routine expertise in at least several music-making practice functional tasks. Whilst I have at times demonstrated my technological curiosity, adopting new technologies and exploring their potential application in music-making practice; I have now noted I engaged in such tasks from a competency outcome approach, within a hybridized musical style drawing predominantly upon a homogenous structure and form. It was in the midst of Project 1, I conceived the authentic narrative for my cultural production would be best based upon a series of significant events in my life. In exploring the idea, I deduced a soundtrack musical style would be congruent with the subjective musical and sonic narrative I was considering. This would necessarily require an alternative approach to production. Rather than approaching the DAW as I had with all of my music and sound-centric projects – as a song – I would need to approach the DAW as I did in music and sound visual-centric projects – as a soundtrack. Therefore, instead of approaching the DAW from an instrument point of view, I would now approach the DAW from a sound for film point of view. I would need tracks of functions – rather than instruments: atmosphere, Foley, composition, effects, and dialogue. It was an epiphonic moment in my project. I realized that despite my decade of exploring music-making practice within a digital virtual environment, I had always only ever used a DAW for music-making purposes as a substitute for what I would have normally used a traditional large format studio console. I had never considered any of my musical and sound-centric projects to be anything other than a homogenous structured and formed song. I had only ever engaged in electronic compositions within the digital virtual environment from a homogenous form of music lens. I was approaching an electroacoustic and sonic art-based composition in a digital virtual environment with a task-orientated systematic process that I had developed in my roots-based approach to music-making practice. I had developed routine expertise from within that approach to music-making practice. I had not studied; nor had any degree of knowledge of electroacoustic and sonic art-based approach to music-making practice. I had not studied the lineage, and therefore I had no understanding of the qualities and characteristics that exist in this approach to music and sound-making practice; relative to the form I had developed a level of routine expertise. Differences such as: structure and form; stages of practice; and, qualities and characteristics of the practitioners engaged in the various approaches to practice.

At this stage of my research study I am curious: could understanding the range of qualities and characteristics in each approach to music and sound-making practice, afford more effective categorisation; rather than continuing with the traditional – yet increasingly complex hybridised and convergent musical style forms – approach?  Further, I wonder to what degree does subjectivity and agency differ across the three (3) approaches to practice? Will this categorisation highlight differences of technical and extra-technical skills required; and rational and extra-rational faculties required of contemporary practitioners; across the three (3) approaches to contemporary music and sound-making practice?  The motive of my ongoing investigation is to gain an understanding of why one might feel an authentic connection to one form of music-making; and a connection with another form of music-making. I am also equally curious whether, by illuminating a range of qualities and characteristics within each approach to music and sound-making practice, this will allow aspiring practitioners to more consciously, deliberately and systematically develop their skills and faculties to better engage and even authentically connect in multiple approaches to music and sound-making practice? That is, how one might feel an authentic connection to one form of music-making; and a connection with another form of music-making.

 Contemporary DIY music and sound-making practice now includes the broadened terms of both music and sound. As an outcome of my research study, I hope to develop a more holistic approach to contemporary DIY music and sound-making practice, in order to understand the broadening subjective position of the practitioner and practitioner self. Within the context of complex contemporary creative practice, I suspect practitioners require more developed forms of technical and extra-technical skills; and rational and extra-rational faculties agency, to authentically connect to practice than previously required. I suspect a synergistic outcome of a practitioner self with more developed functional and faculty agency is; they are afforded the opportunity to authentically connect to their desired creative practice in a sustainable consistent manner, irrespective of the approach to music and sound-making practice, the practice environment, the stages or the elements of praxis.

3.2.8 Utility of this research project: a holistic model of sustainable authentic practice?

As Project 1 progressed, I knew I was struggling with the simultaneous accomplishment of the three (3) functions I had determined I needed to rely on in this stage of the research study. That is: 1) conceive and engage in a unique creative practice project; 2) learn to perform the dual primary roles of being both the practitioner as subject, and the researcher observer; and 3) engage in academic research, immersing my self in both literary and textual resources in the areas of music-making practice, and auto-ethnographic practice. I also recognized I would need to learn to create documentation that would meet higher degree research standards – data and analysis. Having engaged and achieved routine expertise in a number of the delineated functions of traditional music-making practice, I now chose to embrace a highly hybridized – convergent – form of contemporary music-making practice. Connecting with this form of practice within a digital virtual environment had eluded me. I had failed to recognise and therefore research the associated lineage and heritage of the primary approach to music and sound-making practice – electroacoustic and sonic art-based. Consequentially, I was ill informed about every aspect of practice. Perhaps what was most debilitating to my well intended efforts, were my ongoing attempt to approach this convergent, conflated style of music-making practice from the one style of music-making I was familiar with – the delineated function roots-based approach to music-making.

Irrespective of my decade of well-intentioned proactive investment to advance my music-making practice in this approach, I finally arrived at the intersection where I knew I had but one alternative: to enrol in a higher education music-making practice program to seek guidance and gain understanding about this approach to contemporary music-making practice. One opportunity led to another, and I found my self enrolled in this doctoral research study.

I was grateful for the opportunity in a practice-led auto-ethnographic research study – artistic practice as research practice. Beginning on this journey generated negative faculty responses as indicated in other sections of this document. At most junctures of practice, I was experiencing inordinate levels of incapacitating head chatter. Often it was debilitating. As Csikszentmihalyi notes when a person’s self-system does not positively align because they experience a situation, which they are “unable to meet, a state of anxiety ensues” (2000, 50).  Despite my having routine expertise in a number of the delineated traditional functions, I was now understanding this was no longer enough. I was missing other agency to successfully engage in this approach to music-making practice. Upon more rigorous investigations I delved into the phenomenon of self-making and meaning-making; specifically, agency and subjectivity. Over time, I recognized that I had multiple I-positions developed in my music-making practice, each operating in a vacuum – independently within the delineated functions I had attained routine expertise in. I observed, to realize an outlook appropriate to engage in contemporary music-making practice, I needed to alter the approach of my practitioner self. I needed to adapt my practice across the three (3) tenets: music-making, meaning-making and self-making. I needed to develop a more holistic view – externally and internally. I considered the irony of this at a later time, considering my recognition decades earlier that I was a holistic learner. However, I had clearly failed to recognise the required adaptive competency traits within the context of my music-making practice[52]. I had developed domain specific knowledge, but had failed to investigate all lineage. My failure to conduct conscious, deliberate and systematic reflective & reflexive practice had prevented my developing my meaning-making agency. As Zwozdiak-Myers (2012) indicates, reflection is an essential part of experiential learning, to derive meaning in the creation of knowledge. As a result, I maintained my status quo as a learner in routine expertise, having knowledge without full understanding. My developed multiple I-positions were not engaging with each other, and forging new conversations to reinterpret past experiences, and foster collaborative teamwork within self to develop new knowledge. The multiple selves continued to work in silos, preventing the development of a more holistic perspective. As a result, functional and faculty agency could not develop, and therefore my self failed to transform to the holistic perspective I required to engage in contemporary music-making practice.  I failed to exercise self-referential activities –reflective and reflexive practice – despite my self-evaluation of being one with positive beliefs (de Corte 2010). I was positive, but without full understanding. Perhaps Koenig would classify me as in possession of a self-serving bias in my music-making practice. Not only could I not develop my subjective agency – a sense of uniqueness – I failed to realise a positive alignment of my self-system relative to my music-making practice in digital virtual environments on an ongoing basis. I was therefore on a negative downward spiral path in terms of this form of practice. Experiencing negative rational and extra-rational faculty responses such as fear and anxiety over an extended period impacted my self-system, resulting in often debilitating biological, psychological, cognitive; and affective responses. Over an extended time, the negative downward overall life experiential trajectory impacted other forms of practice. I was certainly a demoralised self (Koenig 1997).

Recognising my behaviour afforded me the opportunity to make changes. I invested heavily into conscious, deliberate and systematic reflective & reflexive practice. I sought to understand my multiple i-Positions across the three (3) tenets of my multi-dimensional practice – music-making, meaning-making and self-making. I embraced observing, learning to engage, and understanding my multi-dimensional practitioner self.  I encouraged the emergence of my multiple I-voices across the three required functions of this research study: 1) unique creative practice project; 2) the dual primary roles of being both the practitioner as subject, and the researcher observer; and 3) engagement in academic research.  As part of the transformative process, I explored the values, beliefs and attitudes that constitute my existence. I developed a Charter of Values, and revisited these three times over the period of eighteen months, developing them as appropriate (Page 2017c). I published the Charter of Values, along with the highlighted developments at each interval on my public domain website (Page 2017a). Along my journey, I found myself openly referring clients to this site, something I could not have imagined I would have been open to sharing such personal information previously.

 I returned to my music-making practice, to progress my creative practice project. I recognized the narrative of my roots-based musical and sound projects was always embedded in a lyric and vocal. This should not have been a surprise given my previous affiliation with roots-based approach to music-making and the tradition as of folk and country musical styles. However, it was. I considered how I could possibly precede with a musical and sound-centric soundtrack project – without necessarily having lyric and vocal? I contemplated how I could develop a musical and sonic narrative? I developed a workflow in which to focus my intent for the narrative. Upon reflection, it is a workflow that closely simulates my roots-based songwriting process, using narrative writing – prose rather than lyrics alone – as a catalyst for situating my self into an imagined situation, and an aesthetic experience. From inside that affective state, I then compose in the digital virtual environment with similar extra-rational faculty response as when I would compose using a musical instrument. I have found this narrative-focusing workflow counteracted the lack of a physiological and resonant experience I was having in my engagement with computer-based technologies. As a result of integrating this workflow into my music and sound-making practice, I have been afforded rational and extra-rational faculty agency within an electroacoustic and sonic art-based composition process. I had not previously experienced such faculty responses when composing within a digital virtual environment. I acknowledge that I am still in the phase of developing my musicological and sonic functional agency, and my faculty’s agency in electroacoustic and sonic art-based musical and sound-centric practice. However, at this juncture in my research study, I have experienced a sense of flow in a form of music-making practice that had previously evaded me. My Project 1 at this time is starting to gain momentum. I am starting to realise distinctions which – in part – are providing answers to my research study problem: why I felt I had a connection with one form of music-making (acoustic instrument-based), and not a connection with another form of music-making (digital virtual-based).

Page’s (2017d) idea of a holistic model of authentic practice?

3.3 Summary

Whilst I recognise my research study experience is only partially complete, the experience to date has been enlightening. Practice is a subjective experience, interpreting meaning as a result of multiple experiences and re-experiences. Contemporary convergent practice requires multiple levels of agency of both functions and faculties in order to experience, and derive meaning. I engage multiple I-positions and voices; understand causal relationships of emotion, memory, values and motive of self; and how these may influence my discrimination (decision-making) across the broad stages and elements of practice. Engaging in such a process holistically, self can be transformed at various junctures of practice. I now accept my music-making practice, my Arts Practice as Research practice and my educational and learning practice share synergistic qualities of converging hybrid practice, agency and subjectivity. In all three (3) forms of practice, my motive is to authentically connect with – to resonate with – that practice at any moment in time and place.  A synergistic outcome of my Project 1 pilot study is my developed functional and faculty agency across approaches to practice. This has afforded my self the opportunity to more authentically connect with – to resonate with – any desired practice – irrespective of the practice environment, the stages or the elements of praxis. The holistic multi-dimensional examination I have undertaken to date – inclusive of the three (3) interdependent tenets of contemporary creative practice: creative art-making, meaning-making and self-making – complements current discussion of music-making practice specifically; and creative practice generally. I have evidenced utility, illuminating the application to all forms of practice. At this juncture, I accept one’s practice informs one’s self, and how one’s selfinforms one’s practice. Practice – all forms of practice – should be considered holistically; and acknowledged as Michael Foucault proposed – “technology of the self” (1988, 16).

Footnotes:

[1] PT = Avid’s DAW Pro Tools; LP = Apple’s DAW Logic Pro

[2] A series of books which were influential on my imagination were: Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel. 2012a. The hobbit. London: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; and Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel. 2012b. The lord of the rings. London: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

[3] My journey in the actual DCI Project 1 – Pilot Study commences under the sub-heading DCI Phase 1 – Identity-driven Practice from January 2016. A good starting point would be the (Page 2016a) blog: https://davidlintonpage.com/2016/01/05/doctoral-pilot-study-part-1a .

[4] Page’s (2017a) blog site is located at: https://davidlintonpage.com .

[5] From January 1^st 2016, I set my self the goal of writing four (4) blogs per month

[6] See Appendix 16: an image of a section of Page’s (2018h) Blog category topics summary document, with each line summarising key information for each publically hosted blog.

[7] A series of reflective narratives of my doctoral research journey to date – informed by literature and textural resources – can be found at  (Page 2017a) https://davidlintonpage.com.  Within the Menu bar on the right-hand side, under the sub-heading Creative Practice Research, there exists the title DCI Research Study /DCI Project 1 – Pilot Study. I commence with DCI Project 0 – Bordering the Study in the lead up to my doctoral studies from 2014.

[8] Through out my DCI program, I have maintained full-time employment as a Senior Lecturer in a client-centred service-driven HE Institute. One of my primary responsibilities in addition to lecturing is pastoral care, which often demands work beyond the regular hours of employment.

[9] In certain of my series of memory blogs, I allude to, or describe some instances of being ridiculed that have had a profound effect on my life. I therefore discriminate what aspects of my private self I choose share publically.

[10] In her self-help text “The power of vulnerability: teachings on authenticity, connection, and courage”, Dr Brown (2013) links the human qualities of vulnerability, authenticity and connection to self-awareness.

[11] Please see (Page 2017b) blog https://davidlintonpage.com/2017/01/10/doctoral-pilot-study-part-13a

[12] See Appendix 16 (Page 2018h). I have currently published approximately seventy (70) reflective narrative blogs related to aspects of my DCI Research Study journey, totaling about 150,000 words. I have another fifty (50) blogs scheduled, of which approximately 30% are currently in draft form.

[13] See Appendix 1: (Page 2015c) https://davidlintonpage.com/2015/05/30/doctoral-research-study-part-2f

[14] See (Page 2016u) https://davidlintonpage.com/2016/02/20/history-music-production-part-4a-diy-experimental-practice-influences-large-format-console-studios; and (Page 2016v) https://davidlintonpage.com/2016/03/05/history-music-production-part-4b-experimental-practice-changes-the-approach-to-mainstream-music-production

[15] I developed a series of blogs narrating my journey into psychedelic music. As a starting point, see (Page 2016t) https://davidlintonpage.com/2016/02/17/doctoral-pilot-study-part-2b .

[16] For an example of these experiments into psychedelic processing, see (Page 2016o) https://davidlintonpage.com/2016/03/16/aesthetic-processing

[17] A production plan in a roots-based approach to music and sound production usually consists of instruments. For example: drums, bass guitar, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, keyboards and vocals, to name a few options.

[18] In contrast, a soundtrack approach to music and sound production usually consists of tracks which serve a function, or purpose. For example: automatic dialogue replacement (ADR); Foley, atmosphere, FX and composition. Within the composition track there are likely to be instruments, but not necessarily.

[19] See (Page 2017a) David L Page WordPress.com site for a number of blogs across 2016 describing the process of these music and sound-making explorations and experiments  https://davidlintonpagedotcom.wordpress.com

[20] See (2016r) Memory – Introduction for an entry point to this twenty (20) part series of creative writing: blogs of associated memory of the chosen significant events https://davidlintonpage.com/2016/10/24/memory-introduction

[21] Over time, I learned a number of my HE Institute peers were using specific blogs within their education and learning sessions.

[22] Developed in January 2015 at the commencement of my Doctoral program. See Appendix 1.

[23] For HE Bachelor of Audio Trimester 3 level introduction to critical listening analysis, see: https://davidlintonpage.com/2015/04/10/critical-listening-part-3 .

[24] The Who’s “Baba O’Riley” on the album “Who’s Next” (The Who, 1971) was produced by the Who, with the assistance producer Kit Lambert and Glyn Johns as the associate producer.

[25] For a HE Creative Media degree Trimester 1 introductory blog about the influence Russell Morris had on me as a young person, please see my 2014 blog: https://davidlintonpage.com/2014/10/05/music-practitioner-pt-2-what-brought-me-here .

For HE Bachelor of Audio Trimester 2 level critical listening analysis of the same Russell Morris song, please see my 2015 blog: https://davidlintonpage.com/2015/03/12/critical-listening-part-2b .

[26] Beatles, The. 1966. Revolver. Parlophone. Vinyl LP.

[27] Beatles, The. 1967. Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band. Parlophone. Vinyl LP.

[28] Beatles, The. 1968. White Album. Apple Records. Vinyl LP.

[29] “Tomorrow Never Knows” was a Lennon & McCartney song on the Beatle’s album “Revolver” (Beatles 1966)

[30] John Lennon’s challenge of Sir George Martin in the Beatle’s “Tomorrow Never Knows” song, on the album “Revolver” (Beatles 1966)

[31] Floyd, Pink. 1973. Dark side of the moon. Harvest. Vinyl LP.

[32] Reising, Russell. 2005. Speak to me: the legacy of Pink Floyds The dark side of the moon, Ashgate popular and folk music series. Hampshire: Ashgate Publishing Company.

[33]Harris, John. 2005. The dark side of the moon: the making of the pink floyd masterpiece. Cambridge, USA: Da Capo Press.

[34] Massey, Howard. 2000. Behind the glass I: top record producers tell how they craft the hits. Vol. 1. Berkeley: Hal Leonard Corporation.

[35] Parsons, Alan. 1975. “Four sides of the moon”. In Studio Sound. Croydon: Link House Publications.

[36] Price, Andy. 2015. “The Making of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.” Article. Accessed Feb 4 2016. http://www.musictech.net/2015/06/landmark-productions-pink-floyd-the-dark-side-of-the-moon.

[37] Gallagher, Mitch. 2012. “Studio legends: Alan Parsons on “Dark Side of the Moon”. Accessed Feb 4 2016. http://www.premierguitar.com/articles/Studio_Legends_Alan_Parsons_on_Dark_Side_of_the_Moon.

[38] There is generally a distinction made between guitar-based effects and processing devices used in typical live performance scenarios, and studio effects and processing devices used within studio environments and tracking/recording scenarios.

[39] Two workshop series that were significant in terms of my personal development, enabling me to improve the quality of my experience in new social situations was that of Educational Kinesiology [EK] (Parker & Stuart 1986); and Neuro Linguistic Programing [NLP] (Hannaford 1995; O’Connor et al 1990; Lewis & Pucelik 1990).

[40] I found activities that assisted me to ground my self at times of extreme anxiety were: some form of physical exercise such as jogging, swimming in salt water, walking bare feet along a sandy shore line, bush walking, gardening/landscaping or practicing martial arts; or some form of meditative activity such as meditation, playing guitar, creative writing; usually culminating with (what I now know to be) reflective writing. All of these activities assisted me in the process of managing my anxiety – the process of providing me alone time to interpret the head-chatter, to arrive at a point in time where I could distinguish the inner speech that I could then converse with. Following this process facilitated me to ground my self, enabling me to return to a calm state.

[41] I attended approximately one hundred (100) workshops over a five-year period, including a number of speed reading courses. In terms of reading, over a 3 year period I read just over 1,000 books – predominantly non-fiction – with themes such as motivation, life story, sales, alternative therapies, education & learning, and technical training books.

[42] I have been an education & learning practitioner for the past 25 plus years, with formal education qualifications, as well as innumerable education & learning and alternative personal development workshop sessions behind me. In my experience, to perform well in professional practice – as a learner, creator, facilitator, manager, mentor and director – I know I performed optimally when I had personal balance – calmness in emotion and calmness in thought. There are many instances in my professional life where I have demonstrated this to be the case; and equally, perhaps many more times, where I have demonstrated the opposite to be true with an erratic, unreasonable reaction to a situation, unsuccessfully realising a role or task (ie: delivering a sub-optimal performance).

[43] Wiley notes that whilst stream of consciousness alone may be a process not without flaws, using it in conjunction with inner speech to direct and interpret it, justifies the means (Wiley 2016, 8).

[44] Referring to the often quoted auto-ethnographic book, containing sixteen (16) chapters of personal auto-ethnographic studies: Bartlett, Brydie-Leigh and Carolyn Ellis. 2009. Music ethnographies: making auto-ethnography sing – making music personal. Bowen Hills: Australian Academic Press.

[45] For example, I may be at the time delivering a management training session to a group of business persons

[46] 1,876 titles currently inhabit my Endnote software application, along with another 4,000 PDFed articles, evidencing the breath and depth of textural artifacts and literature I have engaged in this relatively short time frame.

[47] The song “I can see clearly now” was a major influence as I was growing up. Nash, Johnny. 1972. I can see clearly now. Epic. Vinyl LP.

[48] Some of the artists I was drawn to from a guitar instrumental point of view were Cat Stevens (1970), Neil Young (1971, 1979), and Creedence Clearwater Revival (1970) to name a few.

[49] I pursued applied theoretical knowledge by accessing High Art-based theory books, and applying the usual piano-based instructional text, to the guitar.

[50] 3 minute roots-based songs

[51] accessed via family, neighbours or friends

[52] I had realized the traits of adaptive competency within the context of my education and learning practice

Please now refer to Pt28e – Research Study Project 1 Submission, for the continuation of this document which includes Chapter 4 Conclusion and the Appendices.

NOTE:

• • all references are included in Pt28f – Research Study Project 1 Submission, and
  • a bibliography is included in Pt28g – Research Study Project 1 Submission,

– @David L Page 30/06/2018

– updated 30/08/2018

Copyright: No aspect of the content of this blog or blog site is to be reprinted or used within any practice without strict permission directly from David L Page.