Are we in PARADI$E yet, BITCH?

Have you ever had flowering tea? Appearing at first like a tightly bound ball of chaff, it bursts open when steeped to reveal a beautiful floral bloom. Served in glass teapots so that you can appreciate the beauty unfolding, it really is one of life’s simple pleasures. I first tried one at White Rabbit Gallery’s tearoom, and it occurred to me at that time that it was the perfect analogy for the gallery itself. Not particularly exciting from the outside, but with an interior that gets more beautiful the further in to its layers you delve. White Rabbit Gallery is one … Continue reading Are we in PARADI$E yet, BITCH?

The Friendly Fire of Riverfire

I was sitting at my desk writing when the Super Hornets began their flyovers across the city – practice runs for Riverfire, a celebration of pyrotechnics and music that marks the end of Brisbane Festival. As they thundered past I wondered, not for the first time, at the incongruity of the relationship between warplanes and arts festivals. The day before had been the helicopters’ turn. Four ADF choppers flying low through the city, sending birds and old ladies into panic mode. From my high-rise apartment it looked like Obama was back in town. It didn’t take long for social media … Continue reading The Friendly Fire of Riverfire

Robyn Stacey’s Cloud Land

There’s a perverse thing about humans that make two behavioral quirks a certainty: when we see a closed door, we immediately want to know what’s happening on the other side of it; and when we lock ourselves away from the world, we can’t help but look out the window to see what we’re missing. It’s the constant push-pull of being human; we require both intimacy and isolation in order to function. Well…that, and the fact that we’re all of us excited by a little voyeurism. City people are especially prone to extremes of human interaction. The urgency and immediacy of city living makes for … Continue reading Robyn Stacey’s Cloud Land

Linde Ivimey: Cross My Heart

When Sydney artist Linde Ivimey was looking for a new studio space a few years ago, she chanced upon a two story warehouse in the inner west that was exactly what she desired. Built in the early 1900s as a mail dispatch centre, it had been converted into a bright and airy living space upstairs with a large light-filled workshop below, and was the perfect place to merge home and studio time the way she needed. But perfect places come with imperfect asking prices, and the building was out of Linde’s reach. Back in her existing studio she tried to reconcile her … Continue reading Linde Ivimey: Cross My Heart

The Other Art Fair, Sydney

I’m not sure there’s a busier place for art lovers than Sydney right now. Three major art fairs, the Archibald still hanging in the Art Gallery of NSW and White Rabbit Gallery opening their new exhibition all in the same week means there’s lots of competition for aesthetes attention this weekend. Yesterday alone saw the official openings of Sydney Contemporary, The Other Art Fair and Paradise Bitch which aside from anything else means the art scene is suffering one massive hangover today. At least we’re all in this together, right? So let’s start with The Other Art Fair, Australia’s version … Continue reading The Other Art Fair, Sydney

Amber Boardman’s Oddities

Basically, at the very bottom of life, which seduces us all, there is only absurdity, and more absurdity. And maybe that’s what gives us our joy for living, because the only thing that can defeat absurdity is lucidity. Albert Camus People are weird. They’re frigging weird. I’m not talking about the crazies woven in to the social fabric of big cities, like the guy on my bus who punches the air around him and whispers “boo” in fellow commuters’ ears, or the witchy-looking woman on a Paris street who pointed her finger at me through a foggy window and screamed some unintelligible … Continue reading Amber Boardman’s Oddities

Desirelines at the Judy

Desire Lines, both physical and metaphorical, are single moments of defiance that quickly become the norm as others follow suit. They are the beaten dirt tracks that crisscross city parks and wild sand dunes, thick scrub and council nature strips, and they are the doors opened by trailblazers who break societal norms and give the patriarchy a shake. They are at once transgressive and progressive, having an impact on everything and everyone in their vicinity. But what happens when people conform to the disobedience and rebellion morphs into orthodoxy? Do we remain and toast the revolution, or head off again in search of new challenges? … Continue reading Desirelines at the Judy

Miles Hall: Solid Liquid States

Very rarely in the course of writing this blog do I get to enjoy art for its own sake any more. These days it’s all about researching the artist and understanding their motivation, deciphering symbolism and recognising influences, and then working out how to turn the visual into words so those messages can best be conveyed. It’s not a complaint, I love what I do, but sometimes I crave an artist whose work I can enjoy without the peripheral noise. So I’m really pleased that I made it beyond Jan Manton Art’s slightly intimidating entrance (which, by the way, you should … Continue reading Miles Hall: Solid Liquid States

Discerning Judgment 

Every work of art is an uncommitted crime.” Theodor Wiesengrund Adorno, Minima Moralia I’m not sure there are too many places with less ambience than law libraries. Morgues, perhaps. Or dentist waiting rooms, I suppose. But if oppressive silence mixed with stifling beige is what you’re after, then the Library of Law is the place for you. It’s always seemed a shame to me that the endless stacks of periodicals, journals and peer reviews don’t hold a few more literary titles. Lawyers are probably the only profession other than writers for whom the use of language is paramount, so a few examples of … Continue reading Discerning Judgment 

Waddell and Winton, the Painter and the Scribe.

Gazing across the choppy vistas of Craig Waddell’s most recent show, I can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Headlands, with its craggy outcrops and deep dark blues, is full of places I’ve seen before but can’t quite think where. Places I know I’ve returned to time and again, yet struggle to find a location for in the old memory map. It isn’t until a friend sidles up beside me and whispers in my ear “far out, this reminds me of a Tim Winton book” that I realise it’s somewhere I’ve only ever visited in the pages of … Continue reading Waddell and Winton, the Painter and the Scribe.