Night of The Round Table

DLP Prose_Night of the Round Table.1991.png

My creative practice informs my self, and my self informs my creative practice. It is all a matter of perspective and how closely you look, listen and reflect…
Page, David L. “Night of the Round Table (Perspectives of an artists subject)” ©David L Page 1991
– ©David L Page 10/05/1991
– updated ©David L Page 28/11/2015
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.
Advertisements

Memory – Age 17 – 19 Part 2

Rainy Image
This is another recollection of what I consider to have been a significant period in my life, when I was Age 17 – 19 Part 2.

Bouncing off walls….

Work

I was developing well in my role as an apprentice , but I found that I was actually very good within the management side of running the service department office. Due to the management style (see Leadership Part 1 blog re organisational management styles), there was a lot of staff turnover at the company I was doing my apprenticeship at. I was now just over half way through my apprenticeship, and I was now the second longest serving member of the service department. I found I was spending as much time in the office helping run the service department, rather than being out of the tools learning about the trade. This was not a conscious choice – more of something that seemed to naturally happen. Telephones were riding, and as we were under staffed, I would just pick up the phone to take a message. Then one thing led to another. I would take an order. I would be asked to follow up, and then the people assisting me at the other end of the phone at one of three (3) manufacturers of Renault Australia, Peugeot Australia or Citroen Australia would call back and ask for me. Soon I was getting to know them, and given that I was also well trained by all three manufacturers in specialist training, I noticed I had developed reputation for both knowledge and reliability.
Assisting on the phones, then gravitated to dealing with customers. Customers would call to make service appointments for their cars, and then when they arrived on the day, they would want to speak to me about what we have previously spoken about. Then once the customers returned to collect their cars, they again would look for me.
It seemed they found it easy to talk to me, and perhaps someone who listened to their issues, and then followed through to make sure their issues were addressed; or if those issues couldn’t be addressed, then at least the issue and possible solutions were outlined to them with an approximate cost and time frame of what it would take to get the issue resolved to their satisfaction.
I admit to liking this aspect of the job. It was a role that as time progressed with the ongoing staff turnover, I was soon the longest serving member of staff in the service department, with the largest amount of local and historical operational knowledge. The department was over time developed with more competent staff employed. However, I seemed to have my dual role cemented into the culture, allowing me to develop both my organisational system skills, as well as keep progressing my technical skills.

Motorcycle racing logisitics

Whilst my motocross career was on hold, I became more active within my motorcycle club. By chance, this motorcycle club hosted the largest production motorcycle race of the day – the Castrol 6 Hour Motorcycle race – at Amaroo Park Raceway. As the club was a not for profit association, the Castrol 6 Hour Motorcycle race was run on the back of volunteers – volunteers made up of the motorcycle club members, family and friends.

The_Castrol_Six_Hour_Production_race.png

(Scaysbrook 2016)
As this race was a production race, all of the motorcycle participating needed to be scrutinised to ensure that they complied with the specifications of the bikes that were available of the showroom floor to the general public. This meant that all of the motorcycles needed to pulled down priorate the race, inspected, and then reassembled by the owners, under the watchful eye of the scrutineers, and then sealed, to ensure that no changes had been made to the specifications at any point.
For the first few years I was involved, I was a scrutineer observer: watching from a close distance to ensure the racing teams wre not tampering with the scrutiny seals. However, given I was an apprentice mechanic, I was gradually brought into the main scrutinising team. Before long I was applying my developed sense of systems and processes to the team, to eradicate the gaps I observed in the scrutineering process where unscrupulous racing teams could take an opportunity to make prohibited changes. I recognised that the systems and processes I were advising and implementing was a skill I had innately, that was being developed within my dual role at the service department.
(Castrol 6 Hour Motorcycle Race 1979)
I recall thinking to myself.. “mmm… I can see things that others don’t seem to be able to see……”

analysis-with-magnifying-glass

Music

Continuous listening

As introduced in my last blog (Memory – Age 17 – 19 Part 2),  I would pack up my bike trailer and followed the state motocross championship circuit of a weekend. I would leave first thing Saturday morning, and drive out into the country – often a six (6) to seven (7) hour drive – often times more, sometimes less – to get to any of the country-based tracks ready for the Saturday practice sessions. I would have the front passenger seat set up with a tape player, plugged into the cigarette lighter. My music collection was expanding very quickly, across a wide range of musical styles. I would have my many cassette tape cases filled with mixed tapes, in a chosen order – all lined up. I just played one tape after another continuously until I arrived at my destination. On the way home, I would just continue to progress through the playing order. I realise now this music – these albums became the soundtrack of my life at that time. I listened to the music, to the lyrics, to the rhythms, to the melodies, to the instrumentation,to the arrangement, to the production, The artists, music and productions educated me in the many varied music styles and production aesthetics that each artist or album represented. They accompanied me on my trips – they kept me company. These artists and albums created a listening backdrop to the many visual scenes I was taking in, as I drove through the NSW, ACT and Victorian countryside and towns. I calculated that I did about fifty (50) such trips over a two year period, averaging about six (6) hours driving each way. I must have listened in the car alone to about nine hundred (900) albums worth of music. Some of the artists and albums that accompanied me on these trips (in addition to the artists and albums that I have already mentioned in previous blogs) were: Muddy Waters; BB King; Sonny Boy Williamson, T-Bone Walker; Howling’ Wolfe; Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 RevisitedBlonde on Blonde and Bob Dylan at Budokan;  Woodstock; George Harrison’s All Things Must Past and The Concert For Bangladesh; The Band’s The Last Waltz; Neil Young’s Neil Young, HarvestTonights The Night and Comes A Time; Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, Them AgainHis Band and the Street Choir, Moondance, Tupelo Honey, St Dominic’s Preview, Veedon Fleece and Wavelength ; Eric Clapton’s John Mayall’s Blues Breakers,  EC Was HereSlowhand,  461 Ocean Boulevard; Rory Gallagher’s Live In Europe and Taste; Led Zeppelin’s IV;  Tim Buckley’s Goodbye and Hello and Greetings from LA; Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway; Bruce Springsteen’s Greetings From Asbury Park, The Wild The Innocent and the E Street Shuffle, and Born To Run; Alan Parson’s I Robot and Pyramid; Thin Lizzy’s Live and Dangerous; Richard Clapton’s Goodbye Tiger; Cold Chisel’s Cold Chisel, to name but a few.
I realise now that whilst I had put my guitar down and focussed on motorcycles for about six (6) years, I certainly hadn’t stopped my listening – my critical listening: my studying of music and sound across multiple levels.

33rpm Album collection

Once I had ceased playing with bikes at night in the garage, I returned to playing albums on my record player. My best friend and I shared a love of music and records. We had different tastes and influences which allowed us both to be introduced to a broader eclectic range of artists and musical styles than would have been possible by ourselves. With my new found additional disposable income from a third years’ apprenticeship wage (relative to a first and second year wage), and not racing bikes (saving on parts, fuel and travel), I submersed my self into the one thing I could do as part of my every day home-work life.
Before long we had three (3) – four (4) l hundred albums each.

Live music

The natural gravitation from our passion in music was to then seek out music being performed in our local area. Again, our different tastes and influences allowed us to be introduced to a broader eclectic range of artists and musical styles than would have been possible had we just been going out by ourselves. The range of live performances ranges from art-college bands, to emerging local artists, to successful performers of the day – local and international.
One of our local bands that we made sure we would go as many times during the week when they were performing were Cold Chisel. A great live band that guaranteed you would get a physical work out by the end of the evening.

Cold Chisel_Manly Vale Hotel ticket_1980 .jpg

(Cold Chisel 1980)
Of course, with the live music scene came late nights, alcohol and lack of healthy balance of food. Over time, this would take its toll.

Family and Friends

With more time on my hands, I did spend some time visiting my parent’s families in both Sydney and Melbourne. The family member who I felt particularly close to – the person whom I would make an effort to visit – was my father’s father, my grandfather – Pa. He didn’t live far away. However, he was light years away from my current lifestyle.
Pa.1978.600.The Works.P3
(Pa 2016)
He was someone who had a way about him – an aura around him of calmness and faith.  My grandfather was a devout Baptist, but more so – a really fine human being. Compassionate, kind, with well thought through values and intentions in his dealings with everyone in the community. His goodness was infectious. He was very measured. When he spoke, he wove philosophical stories for his grandchildren into the conversations. He lost no opportunity to teach.
As I grew up, I recall I gravitated to him for some semblance of nourishment and order from our tumultuous household. We would see my father’s family most Sundays for an extended family lunch. Usually a hot roast lamb which was considered at the time to be a regal lunch to share amongst family or friends. I would sit next to him, and look up in awe whenever he was looking away. He would catch my stares, and look down at me, and just smile reassuringly. I swear he had a light hue around his head and shoulders, complementing his smile that reassured everyone around him, that they were well-loved.
I have never spoken of this, but in engaging in this deep reflective practice task, I can now see how I was attracted to – in need of – his balance and energy. In my life, this was the nourishment that I needed.
In one of my live gig binge periods – perhaps a period when I was in need of his nourishment more than other periods in my life – I overlooked a dinner promise that I had to visit my grandfather. The following week he passed away. My parents were overseas. I had to represent my dad at his father’s funeral. I recall it was one of the hardest periods I had at that time to live through. It seemed that things were constantly being taken away from me. This, I could not resolve.
Things I could see, just got blurrier…..

487887030

Doors seemed to be closing……

empty-corridoors-leading-to-empty-room

The world seemed darker, colder, less friendly…..

Rainy Image.P2.jpg

I couldn’t find my way. Everything seemed to be disappearing. Everything seemed to be constantly being taken away from me….. The people and things that I loved… the memories… I just could not resolve this….

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

(DLP 2016)
I was trying hard to make my own way.  I then learned of another friend who had lost his life…
Then another….. Then someone I had met – someone who promised me so much, didn’t come through for me… In fact, I found her talking , and acting behind my back…. turned out she was an utter bitch!!
I suppose it all just got too much….. I felt beyond helpless as a child again. I felt betrayed… I felt lost… Everything was happening outside of my control. Everything was disappearing. Everything was being taken away….. The people and things that I loved… the memories… I just could not resolve this…. the rainy days were turning back into torrential stormy days ……. I felt as a child again. I felt betrayed… I felt lost… I had no control, no control. Everything was disappearing. Everything was being taken away….. The people and things that I loved… the memories… I just could not resolve this…. the rainy days were turning back into torrential stormy days …….
Rainy Image.Really Darkened.P3.jpg
Page, David L (2016a) “Bouncing off walls….” ©David L Page 2016. 
“Bouncing off walls….” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Night of the Round Table – perspective of an artist’s subject

As a person trying to understand my self, in order to better function in life, I have indulged and engaged in much reflection throughout my life. Irrespective of my age, I have spent time reflecting on what I have experienced, what I had achieved, what I hadn’t achieved, and the possible reasons for this. I recall at specific times in my life, reflecting on why perhaps I was who I was, and even recall from a very young age, what it was god had intended for me to achieve in my life time. I pondered this in a creative writing session, whilst gazing down at autumn leaves in various stages of death. In this process – for the first time I believe – I started to both understand and accept, what it is to have life. What is it is to live, and what it is to have that life taken away.

DLP Prose_Night of the Round Table.1991

Page, David L (2016b) “Night of the Round Table (perspective of an artist’s subject)” ©David L Page 1991
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 20 Part 1.
References
Alan Parson’s I Robot and Pyramid albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 RevisitedBlonde on Blonde and Bob Dylan at Budokan albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Bouncing off walls ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 5th December, 2016
Bruce Springsteen’s Greetings From Asbury Park, The Wild The Innocent and the E Street Shuffle, and Born To Run albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Castrol 6 Hour Motorcycle Race 1979 video link courtesy of ABC TV  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Cold Chisel’s Cold Chisel album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Cold Chisel 1980 image courtesy of:  Cold Chisel Live at the Manly Vale Hotel Accessed 4th December, 2016
Corridor and Closed Door image courtesy of: Corridors  Accessed 18th June, 2016
Darkened House image courtesy of: Darkened house  Accessed 18th June, 2016
DLP 2016 image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 19th November, 2016
Eric Clapton’s John Mayall’s Blues Breakers,  EC Was HereSlowhand,  461 Ocean Boulevard  albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
George Harrison’s All Things Must Past and The Concert For Bangladesh albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Led Zeppelin’s IV album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Magnifying Glass image courtesy of:  Analysis   Accessed 4th December, 2016
Neil Young’s Neil Young, HarvestTonights The Night and Comes A Time albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Page, David L (2016a) “Bouncing off walls….” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L (2016b) “Night of the Round Table (perspective of an artist’s subject)” ©David L Page 1991
Rainy Images courtesy of: Rainy day image Accessed 5th November, 2016
Richard Clapton’s Goodbye Tiger album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Rory Gallagher’s Live In Europe and Taste albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Scaysbrook 2016 image courtesy of : Castrol Six Hour Production Race Accessed 5th December, 2016
Tim Buckley’s Goodbye and Hello and Greetings from LA albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
The Band’s The Last Waltz album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Thin Lizzy’s Live and Dangerous album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks, Them AgainHis Band and the Street Choir, Moondance, Tupelo Honey, St Dominic’s Preview, Veedon Fleece and Wavelength albums courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
Woodstock album courtesy of Discogs.  Accessed 4th December, 2016
– ©David L Page 10/05/1991
– updated ©David L Page 28/11/2016
– updated ©David L Page 05/12/2016
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.

Memory – Age 16 Part 3

Rainy Image.jpg

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant period in my life, when I was Age 16.

Such a new life….

Such a new life….©David L Page 2016
Living by my self,
Such a new life….
I get up every day,
and think
what will I eat …
breakfast, lunch, and dinner…
first time I’ve needed to,
consider this,
consider that…
such a new life……..
I race to the shops at lunch
to get the week’s supplies
my only chance
no extended trading in this era
everyone only works, 9- 5
Home at night,
bills to be paid
meagre apprenticeship money coming in,
how quickly I find it
all just disappears….

 

such a new life……..

 

Saturday morn,
washing and cleaning chores,
clothes off the line,
adding to a pile on the floor,
another week rolls on out,
another day
another week
another month rolls by..

 

such a new life……..
no family around,
they are now long long gone,
sixteen years old
living by my self
such a different life
to that I have previously known
such a new life……..

 

now part of close living,
so many balconies,
and yet,  no one ever seems to be home
no willow tree in the backyard
no happy, smiling face,
no wagging tail,
to greet me when I get home

 

such a new life……..
my family – they are now long long gone,
sixteen years old
living by my self
such a different life
to that I have previously known

 

A day working,
covered in grease and oil
tuning engines, and
road testing them with others,
as I am still too young to drive

 

I try to engage in small talk….
But really,
I can only focus on what I need,
developing my skills
confirming my decision
to embark on such a path
have I made the right choice?
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
at this stage
The boss takes a tyrannical stance,
Making us do things
in the name of the role,
have I made the right choice?
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
People approach me to assist,
I listen and solve
problems seem logical to fix
have I made the right choice?
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
such a new life……..

 

Everyday,
I put one foot before the next
I take each step,
unsure of what will happen next
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
I gather my thoughts,
after what seems to be
another,
very long day

 

I guess,
now I can say,
I was only ever just hanging
on in there
such a new life……..
such a new way…
I moved from one place,
to the next
looking out the window on the train
wondering what had I done today

 

I felt in many ways,
it was as if I was
holding my breathe,
too scared to breathe
too scared to live,
for what I might feel
such a new life……..
Everyday,
I just put one foot before the next
I took each step,
unsure of what will happen next
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
I gather my thoughts,
at the end of what seems to be
another,
very very long day

 

I did what I could…
Not sure of what that means

 

Everyday,
I just put one foot before the next
I took each step,
unsure of what will happen next
I am not sure,
I am not convinced
I gather my thoughts,
at the end of what seems to be
another,
very very long day

 

no family around,
they are now long long gone,
sixteen years old
living by my self
such a different life
to that I have previously known

 

such a new life……..
such a new life……..
such a new life……..
such a new life……..
Page, David L (2016b) “Such a new life….” ©David L Page 2016. 
Such a new life….” ©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.
Distressed Baby.Darkened.P2

Afraid

I was now – some would say – making my own way.  One foot before the next, and trying to remember to breathe. I would make another step, unsure of what would happen next. In many ways, I felt as helpless as a child again. So many things happened that were outside of my control. My life continued to unfold, from torrential stormy days through to rainy days. I was experiencing this new life – on this new path, moving very slowly forward, but unsure of what was going to happen at any moment. I was now experiencing a stage of life that I had thought I would never fully recover from. I was still uneasy, and in many ways, afraid…..

DLP Prose Afraid.1991

Page, David L (2016a) “Afraid” ©David L Page 1991
Northern Lights_Lebine A
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 17 – 19 Part 1.
References
Distressed Baby image courtesy of:  David L Page  Accessed 17th January, 2017
Northern Lights image courtesy of: Northern lights  Accessed 22nd August, 2012
Page, David L (2016a) “Such a new life….” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L (2016b) “Afraid” ©David L Page 1991
Rainy Image courtesy of: rainy day image Accessed 5th November, 2016
Such a new life ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 5th November, 2016
– ©David L Page 20/04/1991
– updated ©David L Page 05/11/2016
– updated ©David L Page 20/01/2017
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.


Afraid

DLP Prose Afraid.1991.png
I am not defined by my past creative practice… but rather my past practice offers a glimpse into future creative possibilities….
Page, David L. “Afraid” ©David L Page 1991
– ©David L Page 20/04/1991
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.

Boy

DLP Prose_Boy.1991.png
Sometimes life just happens while we are busy making plans…..
Page, David L. “Boy” ©David L Page 1991
– ©David L Page 15/03/1991
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.

6:00pm December 1979

DLP Prose_6pm December.1991.png
I liken the practicing of any form of art being similar to standing in front of a mirror….. The mirror doesn’t lie irrespective of what we may tell ourselves……
Page, David L. “6:00pm December 1979 (my first heartbreak)” ©David L Page 1991
– ©David L Page 28/02/1991
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.

Memory – Age 16 Part 1

Gratitude

This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 16.

The lead up to Independence Day

Lead up to Independence Day©David L Page 2016
As more time progressed with my immersion in bikes, I realised how I enjoyed working on them – spending time tinkering on them, to improve their performance and their rideability.  I had over the previous couple of years progressively lost interest in high school. I never recovered from that position. I felt quite a disconnect to school. I couldn’t see much relevance to it, and so I started considering my options. I talked through a number of options with numerous school counselors and career advisers. Whilst there was concern expressed for my long-term interest in engineering at a trade level, I embarked on finding a suitable motorbike dealership to join to learn the trade of motorcycle maintenance.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

(Motorcycle Schematics 2016a, b,c)
Unfortunately, I immediately found out that at the time it was not possible in my state to gain an apprenticeship in a motorbike shop. I had to first do any required training on cars, and then once qualified, I could use my developed generic skills to gain a job in a motorcycle repair shop. It was therefore going to take a bit longer than I anticipated to embark on my interest of being a professionally motorbike tweaker. However, I recall thinking that this option certainly had more incentive for me than remaining at high school.
I had helped my dad occasionally do minor repairs and services to the family cars while growing up. My parents had always owned older Peugeot cars, one of three (3) French manufacturers a local dealer sold and serviced. So I submitted a hurriedly typed resume for consideration. I recall it was as short as two days later that I got a call for an interview. Apparently my high school grades were good, despite my declining interest over the previous few years, and the local French car dealership principal and head technician apparently saw a quality in me that satisfied them of my employability.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

(Peugeot schematics 2016a,b)
In December, about 3 months after my sixteenth (16) birthday, I commenced my first full-time job.  I rode my bicycle to work four (4) days a week, and then caught a train in the opposite direction to go to trade school one day per week.
I found trade school easy relative to others in the class, Most of the initial instruction was what I would call common sense. But again I found the small talk awkward. There were a lot of first generation Australians in the class – mainly from European backgrounds. We all thought it was ironic that I with my seventh (7) generation Australian heritage was specialising on European cars, and the others of European heritage with training on Australian-based manufacturers of Holden and Ford. I quickly realised I had a great opportunity as the French manufacturers provided large amounts of specialty training. Almost every quarter I was sent to one of the three French car manufacturers we represented, to their local city head office to be trained and certified in particular models or features. I invested in tools, and by the end of the first year I had purchased (across the many twelve (12) months) a quality set of trade tools that were the envy of most of the fully-qualified technicians.
Line-Maintenance-Set-Metric-13214_98814803.jpg
(Stahlwille Tool Kit 2016)
It is interesting to note that at the time, the industry was transitioning from what we were learning at trade school in terms of metal or electrical work, repairing damaged or faulty parts; to what was essentially parts replacement. That is, if a part was damaged in any way, then you were instructed by the manufacturer to replace that part with a new part; rather than spending time trying to fix the old damaged or faulty part. In the dealership workshop in the first three (3) months, I was given a lot of menial duties that the dealership principal saw fit (not uncommon in an apprenticeship arrangement): such as running errands, washing cars and cleaning the workshop. I didn’t expect more, given we were only being instructed on the basics of entering the trade in the first months of trade school.  Despite being my first full-time employment, I found I was able to talk relatively easily to the adult peers about work-related matters. I was very focussed on learning the technical skills, and seize any opportunity to advance my knowledge and skill set.
Engineering Technical Skills
I do recall in my deep reflection for this narrative that I was not one to engage in small talk such as everyday conversation in the workplace. I recall letting most small talk conversations wash over me. In our workshop we had one of the first female engineering apprentices in the state. I recall she had also won the apprentice of the year, the year prior to my commencement – no mean feat against 99.99% of male peers across the state. Her dad was an engineer, and she had been working on cars with him for most of her life. I learnt a lot from her. Apart from her great focus on developing her technical skills, I observed how she stood up for herself to the other male technicians in their not always gender respectful workshop banter.

Soft Skills

Having come from my own mowing and pool business, I found I could communicate with the customers well. I guess they came to trust my care of their prized automobiles, and I think also my listening to the issues that had them bring in their car in to be attended to. As the company I was working for had a relative high staff turnover, I had an increasing opportunity to assist in the service office.
At about six (6) months into my apprenticeship I was getting used to the working routine. Up everyday at about 6:20am, breakfast, shower, dress and leave home by bicycle to be at work by 8:30am. There were days when I thought about my decision to leave school, but I was gaining knowledge and doing well, so any doubts were only fleeting thoughts.
 society
At around this time, my dad arrived one evening, and called a meeting with my mother and me. The told me he had been given a job opportunity within the global organisation that he had worked for the past eight (8) years– an overseas transfer to lead a third world region in his area of speciality. They were moving. I asked when?  “They want me there in ten (10) weeks from now” my Dad replied. “That’s less than three (3) months from now?” I enquired hoping someone had misunderstood. “Yes, that’s right..”
I was presented with three options – to quit my job and study, and move to the UK and go back to high school as a boarder; or to move into an apartment and look after my self, while continuing to work. The third option of me going with them to Africa was not an option due to the lack of opportunities for me to work in East Africa – Kenya for someone my age and my interests.
I recall thinking……. oh shit!!!  Whilst there was a lot to like about my parents leaving for an overseas posting, there was also something I was fearful of – independence. Not that I didn’t want it – I very much did – in theory!  But, I also inherently knew that I had only limited experience with being independent.  My mother controlled just about everything we did, said or thought, and therefore I would say we were not raised with a view to develop our independence in a natural way.  My recent striving for independence over the previous few years resulted more from one of rebellion than natural gaining of independence. I knew I needed to break free. Now I was working – and for a dealership principal who I was discovering was tyrannical  – I began to realise that I was controlled – micro-managed in many respects – by my mother in a very autocratic way.  Life in our family for me was about doing chores, homework, and then – and only then – I was allowed to play. I can see having engaged in this deep reflective practice task – with the benefit of many years of education & learning, executive management and governance experience, that such a parental approach is actually counter productive for empowerment and developing independence in anyone. In fact, such an approach actually promotes dependence via compliance (see blog Leadership Part 1 for more on this).
On the one hand I could see that before me was a junction – a cross-road that could potentially change the course of my life. And yet, I held a very healthy dose of fear for what what was about to occur. I recall my world starting to spin…
“What about our dog Trixie?” I enquired..
“Well, we have thought about it …. we would have to give her away…..” was the response
“She (Trixie) spends some time down the road with that family, how about we ask them if they want her”…
I recall my world starting to spin very out of control. And yet, I did not at that time in my life have the presence of mind – the maturity – to realise and articulate the implications of what was about to happen. I knew in the depths of my soul what the implications of what they were suggesting, but I was not mature or in touch with my self enough, to stand my ground.
As the clock wound down – six (6) weeks out, I got cold feet, and thought how could I do this. I had to learn to cook, to clean, to iron and shop – let alone pay utilities and balance the accounts. I considered one of the original options – to move to the UK and go back to school; but I figured if i didn’t like high school in Australia, then why would high school in a foreign country – boarding – be any more cool?
So feeling I had little choice, I stayed behind, to move into a flat. My parents rented two apartments in the same block, with the idea to get a distant relative to live in the other one, in order to maintain some oversight over me.
The clock ticked down – four (4) weeks to go… the apartments were secured for us to move in. It was close to my technical school that I went to one day per weeks, and on a train line. I was going to need a train line to get to work everyday, as i was still three (3) months short of being eligible to apply for the permits to commence learning to drive a car. Once I had this permit, I then needed to learn to drive and had another three (3) months before I could take a test to gain a car driver’s licence.
Then three (3) weeks out, the family house was sold the house….
Then two (2) weeks out, the family down the road agree to take Trixie – on the one condition – that it was to be permanent, and “not just looking after her for a while”.  My heart sank to a new all-time low. My spirit died a little, without me being able to articulate what was going on….. Trixie had a sense with all of the movement around the house – packing boxes, and out of the ordinary routine – that something was about to go down, but of course, we couldn’t really talk about that.
Then one (1) week to go, it was time. It was time to move out of our house, and into the new apartment to settle and adjust before my parents flew out for the start of their new life.  It was at this time that I had to say goodbye to Trixie. I still remember the time. It was 5:30pm in the evening.  The sun was lowering, and so while there was still some light available, I took her down to the new family and handed over her things – her blanket, her collars, walking leads, feeding bowls and all of the reserves of food that we had. We said our goodbyes, but I was deliberately trying not to make too much of a fuss. I was going to come back and visit her on a regular basis – she had some young little kids in the new family to look after, and who adored her, as we in our family did. I walked out the door and back up the street, without looking back. I couldn’t look, because I didn’t want her to see, the tears flowing down my face. I had been convinced by my parents that this was to be the only way, and the best for her.
I didn’t look back… I couldn’t.. I had to move on…
I went back to the house, and we all stood in silence, not wanting to speak. Slowly, we returned to doing what was before us – the final pack of the last few things to put in the car, lock the house, and drive away. But it is what happened next, that perhaps revealed the degree of heartbreak that we were all feeling – not only me but  the whole family, including I am sure, the sixth member, Trixie.
All of a sudden, catching us all off guard, we could hear Trixie’s tail tapping against the door frames and walls, telegraphing to us all that she was back in the house. She was whimpering – almost crying – head tucked down, and looking for all of us i never room… She knew something was up, she knew something was up.. If I didn’t know better, I would say she was feeling exactly the same as us. I knew that she knew something was up….
“Lead up to Independence Day”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

6:00pm December 1979 (my first heartbreak)

Over a decade after this event occurred, upon returning to Australia I proactively engaged in developing my creative practice. I attended many creative writing and personal development courses to learn to better tap into my creativity. As an integral part of many of these courses was an exploratory process of one’s creative self that involved tapping into one’s past events and experiences. Yes – reflecting, considering, and writing about them in a creative way.  The following prose is what came out in one such course I attended, with relative ease if I recall correctly. To this day, I can not articulate succinctly what transpired on this final day of leaving our family house when our family dog came back to see us, better than this prose.  I would therefore like to offer this prose as the final paragraph of the above narrative – this significant event, Age 16. It was, and still remains, my first heartbreak.
I hope that through my narratives to date, it is becoming clearer that I was not so skilful at articulating my self at this time – my thoughts, opinions or emotions. I trust that this prose captures the inner turmoil I was feeling at the time of this most significant event.

DLP Prose_6pm December.1991

Page, David L. “6:00pm December, 1979 (my first heartbreak)” ©David L Page 1991
Trixie_197708_600.The Works.P2
(Trixie 2016)
The next blog in the Project 2 series is Memory – Age 16 Part 2.
References
Man in field image courtesy of: Evening Hope  Accessed 18th June, 2016
Global society image courtesy of Development of society  Accessed 15th October 2013
Lead up to Independence Day ……. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 28th September, 2016
Motorcycle schematics 2016a Ducati 250 GT Single Engine image courtesy of: Ducati Single Engine Accessed 7th October, 2016
Motorcycle schematics 2016b Ducati Engine cutaway image courtesy of: Ducati Engine Accessed 7th October, 2016
Motorcycle schematics 2016c Ducati Engine segmented image courtesy of: Ducati Engine segmented Accessed 7th October, 2016
Motorcycle schematics 2016d Yamaha AT2 125cc Enduro Wiring image courtesy of: Yamaha AT2 125cc Enduro Wiring Accessed 7th October, 2016
Page, David L. 2016. “Lead up to Independence Day” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. “6:00pm December 1979 (my first heartbreak)” ©David L Page 1991
Peugeot car schematics 2016a Peugeot 504 image courtesy of: Peugeot 504 Accessed 7th October, 2016
Peugeot car schematics 2016b Peugeot 403 image courtesy of: Peugeot 403 Accessed 7th October, 2016
Soft skills image courtesy of: Baker Anderson  Accessed 24th November, 2014
Stahlwille Tool Kit 2016 image courtesy of: Line Maintenance Accessed 7th October, 2016
Technical Skills image courtesy of: Engineering Technical Skills Accessed 7th October, 2016
Trixie 2016 image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 4th September, 2016
– ©David L Page 28/02/1991
– updated ©David L Page 23/10/2016
– updated ©David L Page 15/01/2017
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.

Memory – Age 11

Growing up

In all of my awkwardness ©David L Page 2016
For those of you who knew me as I grew up, I preferred my own company – I would spend hours alone. I don’t recall thinking why that situation may have been – I guess it just seemed easier to be in my own company. Perhaps it was, as I reflect – as I re-situate my self back in time – due to the experiences I had had as a very young lad.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
My neighbourhood friends would snicker and tease me for as long as I can remember  – in this house, and the previous one as well: “your mum is scary”, “your mum is a witch”.  This perception started when my mum would yell down the street: “David – come home, come inside, come eat!” “Dinner!!”. At home I was used to hearing almost every day: “have you done your chores?”, “have you done your homework?”, “turn the TV off, go and play outside”, “come inside, it is getting dark, it is time to have a shower”, “put on a jumper, can’t you feel the cold?”. I recall thinking it must have been me, I must have been a bad kid – acting out – and in need of being controlled.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
 As I got older – to be about this age – I recall wondering if my mother was actually still unwell. Even though she was no longer confined to bed, there were many conversations that centred around her back. From my perspective, it was mainly due to the way she talked, the way she acted, the way she interacted with me. I only recall seeing her relaxed or happy occasionally – often only for a split second. I recall therefore I still treated her as though she was still unwell, as I had learnt to in my first household, where she actually bedridden most of the time.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
I don’t recall ever having a family discussion and speaking about this. I guess in that era – or at least in our house – kids were not included in such conversations. In our household it was always “kids should be seen, and not heard”.  I do recall that Dad was very protective of my mother, and tell me to be quiet if I was being rowdy; or he would hurry me along if mum was waiting for something to get done. I recall at some points in my life growing up, thinking to myself – “if I was a bad kid, then I needed to change, and be better”. The alternative – the yelling – just wasn’t worth it.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
I now realise in-situating my self back in that time and location – within our house –  being at home was largely an uncomfortable experience. Certainly it was not a relaxing place. In my memory, it was as if we had egg shells all over the floor. I tried really really hard, as an eleven (11) year old to behave, to be quiet, to avoid those egg shells. But just sometimes, I relaxed and trod on one, and then … well… well…  well…
 I had never thought too much about why that situation may have been. I suppose I just accepted it. It was after all, all that I knew, all I that had; so I suppose I just accepted it, and tried hard to work within it, to be a better kid, and not cause problems for my parents.
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
(Page, 2016a)
This is another in-situated recollection of what I consider to have been a significant event in my life, when I was Age 11.

full-2

Re-experiencing the Experience 2

Re-experiencing the Experience 2 ©David L Page 2016
I in-situate myself back into
Killara in 1979
re-experiencing the experience
back in our second house
where I experienced so much….
I note
my breath is very short…
my eyes are very heavy…
I now feel very nauseous,
I am out of breath….
I am tired…..
I am tired…..
I feel ill…
Acidity rising in my belly…..
discomfort, sore throat….
Everything is so, so, so, so….
Spinning round,
I grab a rail
To stop falling down..
Something,
I have become used to
in living in my world….
Will it be over?
I don’t think so…
I don’t think so…..
When will it be over??
(Page 2016b)

ohm

God in another form

God in another form ©David L Page 2016
In all of my awkwardness
I wanted someone to hold
Someone to love…..
I don’t recall how,
But I latched onto the idea of
getting a dog
I quietly badgered my folks,
quietly badgered them,
quietly badgered them,
and quietly badgered them some more
until …..
they finally decided to fold
Dad and I drove way out
to see what was available at the pound,
so many pups,
of all shapes, sizes, ages
and experiences I was told
But there she was..
sitting calmly in the corner,
checking everything out
when she noticed some
big people at the gate
looking over at her,
she wandered over
and began to lick at
my fingers,
poking through the wire..
I just knew she was right
fair, with light-brown freckles
that we belonged
together…
we would soon become,
partners in life…
We picked her up,
and drove back home,
the Page family household was about to be
turned upside down
We now had
God in another form
(Page 2016c)

Trixie.20170406.The Works.P2

(Trixie 2016a)

My first, my only……

My first, my only…… ©David L Page 2016
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
Someone to hang with, and pass the time with,
Play with, hang with, and not have to be told
the what, the when, the where, and with whom I could hang out with…
In all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
I don’t recall when, but I latched onto the idea of getting a dog. From what influence? I do not recall… But in all of my awkwardness, I wanted someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
I do recall very vividly that my parents were initially dead against the idea – a dog was foreign to them. “you will not look after it!” “No!” I am pretty sure getting a dog represented to them something else to look after – another mouth to feed. Reflecting, I suppose their logic could have been that we seemed to battle as a family just getting through all what we needed to everyday; we didn’t need something else to add on top, that could possibly tip the boat some more…
I felt it would be good to get a dog….
For some reason, I got it into my head…..
I quietly badgered my parents for many, many months,
probably several years
Until they caved in,
I had to promise that I was to look after her…..
feed her, walk her, wash her….
I had to promise that I was to look after her…..
feed her, walk her, wash her….
My dad took me out to the pound,
To see what we could find
And there she was..
A labrador-cross
whitish short hair
with light brown spots….
It was my eleventh birthday
when she came into my world
I didn’t know it then
she became my best friend
Inseparable,
side by side
We made a box for her to sleep in,
in the laundry,
which was close to my bedroom/ my rumpus room,
so I could check up on her….
and it didn’t matter is she pooed around….
All of a sudden the house turned upside down,
everyone was curious to see her around….
there was enough excitement for everyone
in our household
Trix was overwhelmed,
And every time someone went
into the garage next to the laundry,
she was terrified of who these big people were,
and ran and hid in the corner,
under dad’s work bench…
A few days later,
she started to curl up at my feet,
sometimes,
chewing on my shoe,
sometimes on my toe

Trixie.20170406.The Works.P2

(Trixie 2016b)
So we gave her,
her own slipper to carry around
all day
especially when she got excited,
she would have to carry something
in her mouth
especially when someone came home…
She would almost cry and wet herself,
with excitement,
when someone came home…
I made a kennel for her…
and put it out the back door…..
but to be honest,
she rarely lived in it,
she quickly lived inside
Upstairs, she had her own chair in the living room….
and watch TV with the family…
At the end of the night,
when I went to bed
She would come downstairs with me
and curl up inside
on her blankets
at the foot of my bed,
She would say goodnight, and
wake me up with a lick to the face
in the morn
then scratch at the door
to go and run out the night’s sleep,
investigate who had been around,
sniff, bark, and then pee
She would finish off the morning run,
collecting the daily delivered newspaper
Dad would let her in at the main front door
and Trix would deliver the paper to my mother’s side….
wagging her tail,
In all her awkwardness, she wanted to
wake em up and give them some morning love…
I knew her well enough,
she wanted my mum to  love her back,
she wasn’t going to give up,
until she had love from
the entire household…
Morning tea and toast,
My dad would make for my mum
Trix would stay for breakfast,
Well until at least she got some reward…
We played in the street
We went on adventures
We played rugby
She visited my school…

Trixie_197112_600.The Works.P2

(Trixie 2016c)
I recall starting to feel less awkward, I now had someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
Though my mum was opposed to the idea of having a dog,
she caved in, and soon
while I was at school,
my mum and Trixie became inseparable..
She hung with my mum
in mum’s home workroom,
everyday,
next to her feet
when I was at school
When mum would go down the street,
Trix would go with her,
she would assume her position
in the front passenger seat..
she looked as if was
advising my mum on where to go,
which road to turn down,
Or least
holding my mum in conversation…
Trix would let herself in,
she would let herself out
through any door she pleased,
didn’t matter is there was door handle,
or it was sliding..
Trix’s nose was her hand
an all access pass, at anytime
a hand to nudge anyone
when she or they needed some love…
I recall starting to feel less awkward, I now had someone to hold, someone to love, someone to hold…..
Trix would hear the afternoon school bell…
3:00pm,
she would go downstairs,
and left her self out,
she would go outside, and wait for me,
and if I wasn’t prompt in coming home,
she would come up to school
and look for me….
Just to make sure
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
She came from the pound,
someone else chose not to love her
she fell for our family
she now had someone to love (her), someone to hold (her)…..
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
We all became so inseparable
Trix broke down the walls
of our household
protecting us from strange goings on,
or so she thought..
barking and frightening away the possums
anyone she thought might hurt us,
or so she thought…
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
she came from the pound,
someone else chose not to love her
she fell for our family
she now had someone to love (her), someone to hold (her)…..
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
she came from the pound,
someone else chose not to love her
she fell for our family
she now had someone to love (her), someone to hold (her)…..
I was sure
my soul mate walked in another form….
she came from the pound,
someone else chose not to love her
she fell for our family
she now had someone to love (her), someone to hold (her)…..

Trixie.20170406.The Works.P2

(Trixie 2016b)
(Page 2016d)
My first, my only…… ”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 12.
References
My first, my only…. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 4th September, 2016
My first, my only……  image courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 4th September, 2016
Ohm image courtesy of: Ohm  Accessed 28th May, 2016
 Page, David L. 2016a. “In all of my awkwardness” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. 2016b. “Re-experiencing the Experience 2” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. 2016c. “God in another form” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. 2016d. “My first, my only……” ©David L Page 2016
Pulsating image courtesy of: Image Accessed 15th January, 2016
Trixie 2016a image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 4th September, 2016
Trixie 2016b image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 4th September, 2016
Trixie 2016c image courtesy of: David L Page Accessed 4th September, 2016
– ©David L Page 06/09/1990
– updated ©David L Page 05/09/2016
– updated ©David L Page 22/12/2016
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.

Memory – Age 10

Upright Pianola.P2

(My first love)

My first love……the piano

For those who know me now, this statement may surprise you. My first love of a musical instrument was actually with the piano.
Having moved into a new house when I was eight (8) years of age, my mother began playing her music. Much of the music album she played were piano-based classical pieces, and played at volume through my father’s oversea’s purchased Bang and Olufsen stereo system. I loved the tones of the piano as a musical instrument. I recall being attracted to the multiple string tones that could concurrently emanate from within the large wooden structure of an acoustic piano cabinet.  I recall I would listen in awe of the piano players’ ability to play. I had no knowledge of how these players were playing at that time. I just loved the sounds, and the places these sounds took me. In most instances, it was as if the recorded piano was next to me, and mostly I felt that my head was actually placed within the acoustic piano cabinet. It was that clear, and bell-like in tone.
I now understand how these sounds are constructed. In simplistic term, the piano player would play both a left-hand bass note chordal vamp, whilst simultaneously playing a right-hand mid or high register melodic line. The combination of these two often conversational acts, created musical and sonic textures that were complex and multi-layered in notes – tones and harmonics. I recall how these beautifully constructed musical and sonic passages could stand on their own – almost an orchestra in themselves. The piano as an instrument could certainly lighten my deepest thoughts. It certainly lifted the world off my shoulders when things were dark, as if summoning angels from afar.
As I describe in my Music Practitioner Part 1 – Beginnings blog, when I was about ten (10) years old, I moved downstairs into a large rumpus room with an old gramophone radio (a record player and radio), and a pianola (as above) inherited from my grandfather. Whilst I tinkered on the piano from time to time, I found I actually spent more time listening to others’ songs and productions on the gramophone radio in these times. I was never interested in the piano as an instrument for me to play. I can not remember ever badgering my parents for piano lessons; nor can I recall scouring music magazines looking at pictures of the various types of pianos.
However, I do recall quietly badgering my parents for a guitar. I do vividly recall scouring those same music magazines looking at pictures of guitars. Just a few months later, I found my self with a guitar in my hand. That was four and a half decades ago.

My first love affair……the guitar

I am not sure if I remember exactly the first time I heard one of these six (6) stringed instruments. Who was playing this instrument on that first occasion? Was it T-Bone Walker, Django Reinhardt, Robert Johnson, Howling Wolfe, Woody Guthrie, John Lee Hooker, Les Paul, Albert King, BB King, Muddy Waters, Bill Hailey, Bo Diddley, Lonnie Donegan, Chuck Berry, Johnny Cash, Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochrane, Elvis, Scotty Moore, John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, George Harrison, Paul McCartney, Mike Bloomfield, Jeff Beck, Alvin Lee, Lonnie Mack, Pete Townsend, Neil Young, David Gilmour, David Bowie, Cat Stevens, T-Rex, or Rory Gallagher?
(Robert Johnson 1936)
(T-Bone Walker 1966)
So what was it about this instrument that grabbed my attention? It did not seem to make any difference to me whether the six stringed instruments were an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, or a hybrid – an electric hollow body (referred to as a semi-acoustic for a number of years) guitar. Every production seemed to have something on offer from this six stringed instrument; the infectious rhythms, the jangly harmony of the strummed chords, the melody played as a relatively thin lead line, or the improvised lead lines with a range of processing or distortion applied.  
(The Jimi Hendrix Experience 1968)
Irrespective of who was playing, or on what type of six (6) stringed instrument it was, I could soon hear every note, interval or chord played in a production.  I could hear the range of tones from the variety of timbers, pickups, string gauge, the type of approach the guitar player was taking in playing this instrument – strumming, fingerpicking, finger picks, or flat picking, the velocity in which they caressed or attacked the instrument, the type and gauge of plectrum being used, the amp, or the processing applied.
(Al Di Meola, John McLaughlin, Paco DeLucia 1980)
I suppose my love affair with this six stringed instrument may have been somewhat influenced by my brother. He did after all bring his red electric hollow body into my world, and teased me everyday with it… perhaps….
Perhaps my pursuit was fuelled by me being left-handed, with a limited number of guitars to play –  cajoling me, whispering to me, teasing me that I wouldn’t get to play any of them? mmmm…. likely….
Perhaps my interest was motivated by the daring showmanship of many performers I had seen playing guitar and singing – entertaining a crowd?  mmm… very cool….
Perhaps, my interest was motivated by witnessing something being played that appeared to be technically difficult – and yet so smooth, so fluid, so musical? mmm… was likely to have been….
Or perhaps, I was inspired by certain troubadours to develop the craft of guitar playing, along with singing, and songwriting – to a depth I had never heard before?  mmmm, certainly was true…….
(Cat Stevens 1970)
Perhaps I was attracted ’cause I could physically embrace the entire instrument, my body around hers?  mmmm…. that was for sure…..

Willie Nelson_by Platon.P1 .jpg

(Willie Nelson by Platon)
Perhaps it was my desire to feel her curves, and caress her neck – all whilst learning to talk to her, in a revealing and meaningful way, with just her….. Very likely as well….

Guitar Curves.Works.P2

(Guitar curves)
Perhaps, it was my desire to connect with the earth, and smell her natural scents… Oh, so many times I recall……..

Guitar Timbers.Works.P2.jpg

(Guitar Timbers)
Perhaps it was all of these things, with the affair enabled by the portability of the instrument?  Perhaps?   Likely?  Probably?  Very likely?   No, no, no……   I AM sure!      Yes, I am so so sure ……………..
Yes, my first love affair with a musical instrument was with a guitar. Over many years, I have sometimes reflected. Did I cheat on the piano, for the guitar? Did I? Other questions usually then come in rapid succession. What would have happened if I had remained loyal? Where would I have possibly ended up? and, Could that place been anything more than what I have experienced to date?
The guitar is the mistress that I got involved with. I had leapt down the rabbit-hole. Judge me if you will, I was now well over my head: head over heals in love, in my first ever love affair.
This is another episode in my life I recall, when I was Age 10.

1969 Woodstock3Works.P2.jpg

(Woodstock 1969)

My First Guitar

My First Guitar ©David L Page 2016
My brother was several years older,
I looked up to him
he was more
physical, more athletic,
than me

 

He always had a sense of calm,
of what he wanted to do,
(he was) at one with himself…
of who he was,
and who he wanted to be….

 

so grounded…
Not so for me
I am told….

 

Apparently,
I wanted a stage to play on,
to run, and jump, and make a noise
I can still recall listening to am radio,
how much I would dream,
of it being me,
performing in front of a crowd,
and listening to the audience scream

 

But if anyone looked at me directly,
I would run and hide
the way it was,
for the time being

 

I looked up to to my brother
He always had a sense of what he wanted
who he was,
and who he wanted to be….

 

He was physical, athletic, alternative….
he and his friends listened to cool music..
he influenced me in every way…
and then…….
he started to play….
Aria-pro-ii-ta-50-45964.jpg
(Aria Electric Hollow Body Guitar)
 He got an electric hollow body (335)
(much like Fogerty from CCR)
it was big and cherry red,
he started strumming,
and then plucking it…
I remember just standing at the door,
watching, and listening, and
watching and listening, and
watching, and listening……
imagining it was me

 

I remember thinking to myself,
I wanted to do that…
Get on a stage and play,
perform in front of a crowd,
and listening to the audience scream
all day

 

(imagining) ..just like the Beatles, Jackson 5,
Cocker, CCR, Hendrix, the Who,
Led Zepp, the Aztecs, and Daddy Cool,
and me

 

When I get a little older
I want a guitar ….
and get up on a stage and perform,
and listen to the audience scream..

 

I was a lefty,
which made it strange
to strum my brothers
right-hand 335

 

It was big and red,
it just drew me in…
I would stop and try to play with it,
every time I walked passed

 

strum the strings,
strike the strings
bang the strings,
stroke the strings
to see what noise I could get out of it,
ahh… (I’d) listen to its ring…

 

When I get a little older
I want a guitar
and get up on a stage and perform,
Just to let it ring (out)…
I can hear it now
I can hear the audience scream..

 

He plugged it in,
To the stereo amp
To hear its electrics…
trying to get it to sing…..

 

When I get a little older
I want a guitar
and get up on a stage and perform,
Just to let it ring (out),
I can hear it now
getting up on a stage to perform,
I can see it now,
I can hear it now
listen to the audience scream..

 

My dad came home
from one of his trips overseas,
behind him stood a large cardboard box,
within it,
something for me….

Arai Guitar.Dreadnought 211

(Aria Acoustic Dreadnought Guitar)
An acoustic dreadnought
a lefty cherry burst ,
red fading down to natural,
just,  just, just
just for me…

 

she was mine…
I strummed it..
I struck the strings,
I banged it,
I stroked the strings
any thing to make a noise

 

It spoke to me….
metal strings off a spruce wood top
Ahhhh……..
music to my ears……

 

When I get a little older
I want to get up on a stage and perform,
Just to let my guitar ring (out)…
I can hear it now
I can hear the audience scream..

 

Now I just got to learn
What to do, how to play…
where to put my fingers
how can I get my fingers to move….
like Alvin Lee
Ouch, ouch…

 

My 10 year old fingers
trying to push down on the strings
Lots of metal buzzing…
strumming, striking, banging, stroking
I can hear it now…
ringing in my room,
ah music to my ears

 

When I get a little older
I want to get up on a stage and perform,
strumming, striking, banging, stroking
my guitar
I can hear it now….
letting it ring (out)
I can hear it now….
I can hear the audience scream..

 

When I get a little older
I want to get up on a stage and perform,
strumming, striking, banging, stroking
my guitar
I can hear it now….
letting it ring (out)
I can hear it now….
I can hear the audience scream..
“My First Guitar”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Guitar Room.20141004.P2.v3

(A number of the mistresses I have had over the years)
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 11.
References
Al Di Meola, John McLaughlin, Paco DeLucia 1980 music video link performing courtesy of: Live in concert 12/6/1980 – Warfield Theatre San Francisco, CA©1980   Accessed 19th August, 2016.
A number of my mistresses I have had over the years image courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 19th August, 2016
Arai Acoustic Guitar image courtesy of: Arai Guitar Accessed 19th August, 2016
Arai Electric Hollow Body Guitar image courtesy of: Audiofanzine Accessed 19th August, 2016
Cat Stevens 1970 promotional music video link performing Father & Son courtesy of: A&M Records©1970   Accessed 19th August, 2016.
Guitar Curves image courtesy of: Handmade Classical Guitars Accessed 19th August, 2016
Guitar Timbers image courtesy of: Mega Music Accessed 19th August, 2016
My First Guitar …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 19th August, 2016
My first love image courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 19th August, 2016
Page, David L. 2016. “My First Guitar” ©David L Page 2016
Page, David L. 2014. Music Practitioner Part 1 – Beginnings Accessed 19th August, 2016
Robert Johnson 1936 music video link performing Come On In My Kitchen courtesy of: Come On In My Kitchen©1936   Accessed 19th August, 2016.
T-Bone Walker 1966 music video link performing Goin’ to Chicago courtesy of: Live in London 30//11/1966©1966   Accessed 19th August, 2016.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience 1968 music video link performing Foxey Lady courtesy of: Live at Miami Pop Festival USA©1968   Accessed 19th August, 2016.
Willie Nelson image courtesy of Platon at: Hasselblad  Accessed 19th August, 2016
Woodstock 1969 image courtesy of: Land of Punt Accessed 19th August, 2016
– ©David L Page 17/05/1990
– updated ©David L Page 20/08/2016
– updated ©David L Page 23/10/2016
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.

Memory – Age 5

Puffing-billy-hero1.B+W.P1

(Puffing Billy 2016a)
My earliest recollection of trains are of
Puffing Billy……….

Train to freedom

Train to Freedom©David L Page 2016
Puffing Billy was a train,
but not just any old train…
she was a train driven by steam…

72151_795__TN600F

(Puffing Billy 2016b)
She had had a life,
carting logs  down
 from the mountain ranges
the Dandenongs…

70291001.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016c)
By the time I met her,
she had been retired quite a few years,
logging had been called off…

Puffing-billy-hero0.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016d)
and the Puffing Billy railway..
was now for hire..
for families to come and have a ride and see…
what fun it was to ride aboard
a great steam locomotive…

72151_796__TN600F

(Puffing Billy 2016e)
Down in Victoria
out of the city,
up on the mountain ranges,
in the Dandenongs

Puffing Billy Journey times.P1 2

(Puffing Billy 2016f)
The memory is still so strong,
I was on holidays with my Victorian
aunty, uncle and cousins,
I must have been about age 5

Puffing Billy_Age 5_B+W.P1

(DLP 2016)
I was so excited when I first saw her,
filling her up with all of the coal,
moving her around the yard,
getting her ready for a day out,
up on the mountain ranges,
in the Dandenongs

Puffing-billy-hero2.B+W.P1

(Puffing Billy 2016g)
Steam engine blows
smoke goes up,
kids, smile and chatter,
calling out to their aunties and cousins,
others to their mums and friends
“let’s go, let’s go”

Puffing-billy-hero3.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016h)
The conductor on the station platform,
rings his bell and shouts
“all aboard the Puffing Billy –
she’s about to pull out, let’s go, let’s go”
kids, smile and chatter,
calling out to their aunties and cousins,
others to their mums and friends
“come on, we gotta go,
let’s go, let’s go”

Puffing-billy-hero4.B+W..P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016i)
Steam engine blows
smoke goes up,
kids, smile and chatter,
calling out to their aunties and cousins,
others to their mums and friends
“let’s go, let’s go”

 

Wheels start a turning
engines starts a chugging..
train carriages jolt, bounce and bang
metal clangs, and metal clunks
as the Puffing Billy’s starts to move along…

Puffing-billy-hero5.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016j)
kids, smile and chatter,
calling out to their aunties and cousins,
others to their mums and friends
“we’re moving, we’re moving”……
they are having the time of their life..

Puffing Billy_Age 5_B+W.P1

(DLP 2016)
Kids smile, chatter and point
Running from side to side
“look at (this), look at (that)”……
they are having the time of their life..

Puffing-billy-hero6.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016k)
The train – she is a-chugging,
as she winds up the hill,
the kids are still smiling,
and yelling and pointing,
running from side to side
“look at (this), look at (that)”……
they are having the time of their life..

Puffing-billy-hero7.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016l)
As she gains some speed,
the open carriage allows for a breeze
that massages everyone’s smile,
and almost freezes it in time,
for eternity….
Everyone’s hair is blowing in the wind/breeze
as the Puffing Billy weaves
in and out of the trees,
and around the bends….
up onto the mountain ranges,
in the Dandenongs

Puffing-billy-hero8.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016m)
She is really chugging along now,
with all of the wind, the breeze, the steam,
I can still smell…(large breath in)
the smell of the soot coming from her coal-burning steam producing engine,
against the back drop of the rain forest mountain ranges,
in the Dandenongs

Puffing-billy-hero9.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016n)
Kids call out details to their aunties and cousins,
others to their mums and friends……
They squeal, and yell, and shout, and
squeal, and yell, and shout, and
squeal, and yell, and shout, and
squeal, and yell, and shout, and
squeal, and yell, and shout in delight…….
Puffing-billy-hero8.B+W.cropped.P1.jpg
(Puffing Billy 2016o)
The kids are still smiling,
and yelling and pointing,
running from side to side
“look at (this), look at (that)”……
they are having the time of their life..

Puffing-billy-hero11.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016p)
The kids are still smiling,
and yelling and pointing,
running from side to side
“look at (this), look at (that)”……
they are having the time of their life..

Puffing-billy-hero12.B+W.P1.jpg

(Puffing Billy 2016q)
I am still smiling,
and yelling and pointing,
running from side to side
“look at (this), look at (that)”……
I am having the time of my life..
Puffing-billy-hero9.jpg
                                                   (Puffing Billy 2016n)
The Puffing Billy…..
my earliest recollection of a train….
that perhaps explains one of my loves…
“Train to Freedom”©David L Page 2016. This audio event represents a developed sense of my recollection of this significant event.

Reflection

As long as I can remember,
trains represent fun times….
…..freedom….
I usually always experienced them on holidays…
times of leisure…
down time…..
For my first experience,
the Puffing Billy experience,
I was away from home,
spending time with my aunty, uncle and cousins
I must have been age five (5)
I was staying in a house
the curtains wide open,
with the sun light streaming in….
the house was filled with chatter,
laughter and cheer
 people were talking, and
playing music…
it seemed like all day…

 

Friends dropped in
to share a coffee and a chat
the dogs would run and chase each other
in the garden
mini-bikes at the back door
my uncle would go running,
some sort of marathon event,
I recall I would go and watch,
running and cheering,
up and down the street

 

I therefore suppose I learnt to associate trains
with fun and freedom
a new place, a new destination…..
somewhere for some new adventure,
some new experience..
something so different,
to that I was living,
in another stage of my life
a new place, a new destination….
perhaps,
even a new beginning in life….
The train as a symbol
has stayed with me through my life
metaphorically,
moving from one station,
to another …….
going from one place
to another…..
arriving into a station….
a new place, a new destination….
somewhere for some new adventure,
some new experience..
something so different,
to that I was living,
in another stage in my life

 

a new place, a new destination….
perhaps,
even a new beginning in life….

 

Trains have been significant
in certain places
such as growing up in Sydney…
an essential part of everyday life,
moving from A to B
getting to school..
getting home…
getting to my music lessons,
on time
In Paris,
in London,
In New York,
in Tokyo too
trains were an essential part of everyday life..
moving from A to B
getting around,
on time

 

Trains also represent to me,
social equality,
transport for the masses….
open to anyone,
all types of people use them,
from all range of age, social, and cultural backgrounds….
sometimes  local,
and sometimes, just new arrivals…..

 

You can meet all types,
sometimes you strike a few words,
as you move between stations,
but them more often than not,
you say your goodbyes at the station,
and move into another adventure
by one self…

 

The train as a symbol
has remained with me through my life
metaphorically,
moving from one station,
to another …….
going from one place
to another…..
arriving into a station….
a new place, a new destination….
leading to new adventures,
a new experience..
something so different,
to that I was living,
in another stage of my life

 

a new place, a new destination….
new experiences..
some learnings, some lessons,
some sadness or some fun
perhaps,
even a new beginning in life….

 

A number of these destinations
have become……
my
significant events….

Associative memory

Just about every memory I recall
of trains…..
Has the associated smell of charcoal,
or industrial metal…
Just about every memory I recall
of trains…..
Has the sound of cast iron metal on metal……
People chatting….
People laughing….
Kids talking…
squealing, and yelling, and shouting
Perhaps, not surprising one of the first songs
I noticed when I was growing up
was Cat Steven’s “Peace Train”…
Much later in life,
again perhaps not surprising
I fell in love with the cover version
of the Curtis Mayfield song “People Get Ready”
– with Rod Stewart and Jeff Beck

 

 

Intention for Project 1

So within this composition – Project 1
I intend to use multiple sonic events…
Train samples of metal clanging, train whistles blowing, and
the sound of the train slowing down…
along with kids
squealing, yelling, and shouting,
having fun…
with their family and friends…
I use the complex-layered train sonic event symbolically…
The sound of a train linking each significant event…..
The sound of a train arriving into a station….
Leading into each of these significant events…..
Over and over….
Across the many stages I narrate,
Of my life…
The next blog in this Project 1 series is Memory – Age 7.
References
DLP images courtesy of: DLP Slideshare Accessed 15h June, 2016
Page, David L. 2016. “Train to Freedom” ©David L Page 2016
Puffing Billy 2016a image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016b image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016c image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016d image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016e image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016f image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016g image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016h image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016i image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016j image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016k image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016l image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016m image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016n image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016o image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016p image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Puffing Billy 2016q image courtesy of: Puffing Billy Accessed 21st November, 2016
Train to Freedom …. audio link courtesy of: David L Page  Accessed 25th November, 2016
– ©David L Page 23/09/1990
– updated©David L Page 12/08/2016
– updated ©David L Page 21/11/2016
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.