Brizvegas: the other ‘alf…

This is where we declare no bias as regards our enjoyment of the trip north to the land of our forefathers (the Gang being 5th generation Oz on the Queensland side of the family)…!!!

 

 Regan Tamanui, Such is Life

Now, where were we? Ah yes, the media launch. It was all very pleasant indeed and when we finally managed to tear ourselves away from the generous hospitality of the upstairs bar, we wandered off to the West End in search of a spot of late lunch at the Gun Club. Great food and a bucket or two of beer - and we were too busy talking to remember to take snaps so you’ll just have to take our word for it. And then suddenly it was 4.30, and we had to scramble back to our respective hotels to frock up for the evening frolic…

So it was more of the same, this time with a larger cast of extras. But we’d had the best of it in the morning, frankly. Except Judith Lucy, who we love, doing a stand-up routine – that was a bonus. This time around the tucker careered wildly between being surprisingly twee, or just strangely ordinaire; it had lost the charm and promise of the morning (a victim of the catering logistics, we surmise.) Not that it mattered – the art was still fah-bulous. And we found Neddy lurking under the stairwell (we’d managed to miss him entirely earlier.) Didn’t run across the lovely Mr Broker in the end – but you know how crowded those opening doos can get…

Finally we called it a night and went back to Megsie’s room at the Royal Albert for a nightcap; a Marakovsky, darlings, an old fave tipple. Great accommodation, by the way, if anybody’s looking for somewhere good to stay in Brizzie. We checked out Ritchie’s room as well, two floors below, when we went to grab the champers - same deal, but strangely split level. Anyhoo, seriously comfortable beds, way spacious rooms, and the place in general teeters on the plush side.

Then all too soon it was time for big hugs and goodbyes…

 

                                   

 

…the boys took off in the morning – Tim and Art Stateside, and Ritchie to Melbourne – and the Gang filled in the day scoping Artisan (Craft Queensland) over in Fortitude Valley (great gallery shop, btw) and generally just mooching until it was time for our arvo flight back to the ‘Berra. Short and sweet, it was. And just as well – we got out before the following day’s super destructo deluge.

Lots more goodies to feast your eyes on, here.

Optimism, by definition…

We’ve been a little side-tracked, mes amis, but never mind. Time to give you the scoop on the Optimism opening at GoMA. One of our absolute faves was Not under my roof, 2008; the entire flooring of an old, abandoned Queensland farmhouse – an ‘investigation of the surface versus the interior narrative.’ 

 

Sean Cordeiro and Claire Healy, Not under my roof, 2008

This wunderbar installation, almost a Rosalie-on-steroids (though of course, that’s hardly fair – it’s so much more than that), was the first thing we saw as we entered the gallery space (or rather, it was the piece that, not surprisingly, commanded our immediate attention) and it set the tone of the show; feel-good and fabulous. Contemporary Australia: Optimism is a big, generous exhibition, both in breadth and sentiment. And what a great place GoMA is, and so refreshingly unpretentious (we’ve not been before, obviously.) It’s a Queensland thing, we figure.

Going to the morning’s media launch was way better than waiting for the evening’s bunfight. We had a proper gander at the work and unfettered photo access without all the frenetic flesh pressing and ‘look at moi, look at moi’ opening hype. All the main players were there, of course, but it was a pleasant, unflustered meeting-of-the-makers/mutual-admiration-fest kind of event. Low-key and sincere. 

The primary object of the Gang’s trip was to catch up with Timmy – a rare chance to to get into a huddle now that he lives in New Mexico. And, of course, having Tom as well was a bonus – two birdies in the hand, so to speak.

                               

                              The incomparable Tom Moore and Timothy Horn

Anyhoo, after the obligatory speeches, the mob was treated to a comprehensive tour of the exhibition (courtesy of Julie Ewington) followed by very superior refreshments in the upstairs bar. It was all trés trés cool.  

Timmy’s Medusa is spectacular in the flesh (though we did think it was a little too tucked away)…Patricia Piccinini’s hybrid vespas are seriously adorable…Tom’s Autoganic is brilliant (his episode on the ABC arts programme must be coming up soon)…Kathy Temlin’s white fluffy Bringing it all back home is a sensory delight…the Kayili artists have given the bush mechanics a glorious make-over…it just goes on and on, darlings. We’re going to have to break it into two posts to accommodate the visuals. Try to make the trip north if you can, it’s well worth the effort – otherwise get hold of a catalogue. This is the sort of show that you just want to cuddle.

 

     

For a bit of an oggle, go here.