Though it’s probably going to turn out to be some terrible advertising campaign, I’m hoping it’s not. These simple, thoughtful posters have been appearing around Surry Hills and Darlinghurst in Sydney. I’ll keep adding them, if they keep appearing.
Surry Hills Posters
These simple, thoughtful posters have been appearing around Surry Hills and Darlinghurst in Sydney.
These simple, thoughtful posters have been appearing around Surry Hills and Darlinghurst in Sydney.
These simple, thoughtful posters have been appearing around Surry Hills and Darlinghurst in Sydney.
“The last time I ate bone marrow was in France with David”, I told Damien over lunch. Unlike many other Frenchman, David has quite conservative tastes in food. I remember staying with him and his mother, and while she had a taste for lovely cheeses, he thought they were plain smelly. “He hated it”, I told Damien.
I’ve been to 4 Fourteen only once before, for my birthday last year, at Michaela’s suggestion. Damien too suggested this as a belated birthday lunch (my birthday was Sunday).
In summary, we both really enjoyed the meals which consisted of said bone marrow, kingfish and pork belly. One large course and two smaller ones was definitely enough for two.
Kingfish
Bone marrow
Pork belly
It was a relatively quiet day at the restaurant, and we were somewhat surprised that was the case so close to Christmas.
There was another surprise though that Damien told me about on his way to lunch. “I’ve lived in Sydney fifteen years and I thought I’d seen it all until today. There was a guy totally nude crossing the lights at Taylor Square.” Maybe it was the warm weather?
There is an empty shop opposite the old Railway Station in South Lismore that has caught my attention.
Most weekdays I’ll take a walk down along Union Street to the Duck Pond Espresso to grab a take-away. I quite enjoy the walk, I enjoy the coffee, and I enjoy the chat with Noreen and Alex who run the coffee shop.
Along the way, I might also pop into the chemist, the pie shop, the chemist or the cake shop.
Occasionally, I’ll also peak into the windows of the computer shop, the laundromat, or the second-hand clothing store.
But there’s one shop that has caught my attention, not so much for what it sells, but how it has been decorated.
It looks like the shop has been closed for quite some time now.
Maybe they’ve been closed since the 2017 major flood which would have seen maybe two metres of water enter the premises? Lots of shops in Lismore closed after the flood, and many never reopened.
Either way, I have no idea what type of business previously occupied the premises.
What fascinates me is the decoration on the outside: lots and lots of cassettes.Slowly but surely, the cassettes have been falling off. I can’t be sure if the glue is finally giving way, or they’ve been “helped”, but I noticed this handful of cassettes on the ground the other day.
Before it gets too late, I thought I should document the commercial recordings. Of course, there’s lots of blank tapes which were presumably bootlegs of commercial recordings, or perhaps mixtapes given in the pursuit of romance. It was a “thing” back then to dedicate your love to someone by putting together a tape of the songs that touched you, or which you shared in common. But the best I can do is document some of the commercial recordings, and these are some of my favourites.Who doesn’t remember Leo Sayer from his big hit songs in the 1970s and 1980s? He has been living in Australia for about twenty years now, and I have memories of interviewing him on the radio about his decision to move here.Though I don’t specifically remember the Telmak label, it sounds like it was one of the many “generic” brands of the 1970s where they had session musicians recording popular hits of the day.Another cheapie compilation by the look of things.I’m starting to think the collection of cassettes once belonged to an older person. Even in the 1980s, liking Al Jolson implied someone of a “certain age”.The awesome Dame Vera Lynn. Yep, that kinda proves the age of the owner of the collection.Richard Clayderman. The ultimate soundtrack to an uncomfortable first date in a large, empty overpriced restaurant.At first, I rightly thought this was a recording from the UK, but then I noticed the 1988 Australian Bi-centennial connection. How curious. Did they come here? Frank Bourke & The White Rose Orchestra were huge in regional areas. Growing up and watching local commercial television, hardly an ad-break went by without seeing another recording by them. There were many many more releases after this one.The Judds were/are a mother/daughter American country music duo. This looks like an example of a “cass-single”.The Flying Emus were a great Australian folk/country band who I still like very much.And of course, no collection is complete with head cleaner. The only thing missing is a razor blade, some sticky tape and a pencil. Those reading of this who are of a “certain age” will know what I’m talking about.
The cassette collection fascinates me. Was it just from one person, or were there many collections? Were they picked up as a bulk lot? Why did they decorate the outside of the shop like this? Maybe you can answer some of the great mysteries?
I didn’t plan to spend all of the afternoon enjoying food and wine at Circular Quay, but somehow it happened.
My friend Kate gave me a call late this morning, asking if I’d like to join her and a friend (visiting from Beijing) for lunch at the MCA (Museum of Contemporary Art).
A good time was had by all, as we enjoyed fish and chips, caesar salad, and lamb kofta with dips. Very nice indeed.
“Shall we have another bottle of wine?”, Kate asked as we completed our meals. “Sure, why not?”, we both agreed.
And from there, we moved slightly down the road towards Cruise Bar, which even though there was a big bloody boat in the road today, ruining our view of the Opera House, was an ideal place to spend most of the afternoon. Unlike Opera Bar on the other side of Circular Quay, it’s far less crowded, the seats are far more comfortable, and the drinks much less expensive. If you’ve never been there, I’d highly recommend it.
Unlike yesterday’s melanoma-inducing case of sunburn, today’s exposure to sunlight was more of a gentle dose of healthy Vitamin D.
A few people have told me to hurry up and get out of the way. In particular, there was the woman with an SUV-sized pram, and there was the bus driver who was running behind schedule. There was also the bloke in the cafe who looked me firmly in the eye and said, sarcastically, “Don’t worry mate, I’ll just walk around you”.
In all three cases, I was hanging on to a wall or a railing, which I would have thought already indicated I had some mobility requirements. Within a couple of seconds, they all looked down, saw my prosthetic leg, and apologized. All except the bloke in the cafe. I got my revenge by standing directly next to the table he was seated at, the last remaining table in the cafe. He never blinked, not even when an elderly couple offered me a seat at their table. Arsehole.
I’m rapidly becoming “invisible” as “someone with a disability”. As I’m now mostly walking without crutches, people don’t notice me anymore. They need to look down to see that I have a prosthetic limb. For the most part, they don’t look down, as they’re often too involved in their mobile phone.
I had an older woman on a bus recently ask if I’d broken my leg in a skiing accident. She assumed the fiberglass leg was a “moon boot” (or something like that) until I told her the brief version of the full story. She was a little embarrassed, but I told her not to worry.
Because my leg sticks out a bit on buses, a few people have accidentally kicked it. For the most part, they don’t apologize, they don’t notice it, and get on with their business. But one recently apologized, and jokingly I said, “Don’t worry, I didn’t feel a thing”.
But even though I’m more mobile getting around, albeit slowly, I still need some assistance. Getting on and off a bus still requires my use of the handrail. It’s the same going up and downstairs. Though I could do both without using the handrail, I feel much safer if I do.
I have a couple of events on tomorrow where I’ll take my crutch with me. I probably don’t “need” it, but it will probably help at the events I’m attending. One is an art gallery talk where I think there will be limited seating, and it will signal to the organisers and fellow patrons, I would probably like a seat for the hour-long talk,
The other is a theatre play. I’ve managed to get the last remaining single ticket for the final season performance of “Holding The Man” at Belvoir Street Theatre. My ticket is in the middle of a row, reasonably close to the front. Theatre seating inevtiably involves stairs without railings, and so I think the crutch will come in handy.
I’m also still struggling with long pants. As the weather has started to change, shorts haven’t been enough to cope. I’m wearing the left leg to the shoe, but the right leg gets stuck at the point of the prosthetic. My current prosthetic leg is quite large, and so I need a much thinner one, one that pants can slide over when required.
The first prosthetic was paid for by the NSW Government, and I’m currently awaiting approval for a thinner, lighter prosthetic from the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS). The NDIS has recently undergone a review, and approvals seem to have slowed down a little. I’m not sure when the approval will come through, though I hope it’s before winter.
My workmate, Martin and I went for a drink after work today. Initially, we had thought of going to “Henry, Henry” at the Henry Dean Plaza, but as usual for a Friday it was busy and noisy. So we thought, then, of another nearby bar which, oddly enough was closed. And so wandered over to the Crystal Palace, one of those older-style pubs which hasn’t had one of those chrome and timber makeovers. It’s kinda daggy, and most of the crowd probably have drinking problems. But had we not chosen the Crystal Palace, I would not have met Linda Robson who played Tracey in “Birds Of A Feather”.
Linda Robson and Me
Just like the pub itself, “Birds Of A Feather” was a little daggy. But it was one of those great English comedies which survived for many years thanks to its simple honesty. I first remember watching it on a Saturday night sometime after “The Bill”. At its heart was the story of two sisters forced to live together after their husbands were sent to gaol. Working class girls through and through, they became unlikely friends with their middle-class next door neighbour, Dorian. Like the girls, though, she was also a little lonely, as she and her husband seemed to lead separate lives, and though Dorian was often portrayed as a bit of a slut, you knew she also had a heart of gold.
As Tracey, Linda Robson was the “nice sister” who remained in love with her husband behind bars, caring for the welfare of their son, and providing home and shelter to her her less well-off sister Michelle, played by Pauline Quirke.
Almost fifty, Linda Robson is in Australia for the “Grumpy Old Women Tour”.
When she and her grand-daughter (I imagine) sat down next to us she caught my eye. “Is it OK for us to sit here”, she inquired, concerned that the girl (who was maybe 10 or 11) wouldn’t be allowed to sit on the footpath bar outside the “Crystal Palace”. I assured her it was fine, even though I wasn’t entirely sure if it was a breach of the licensing laws.
As Martin and I were on our second beer, I had decided to ask her if I could have a photograph and had asked Martin if he would take the photograph. As we were about to leave I asked her, apologising for interupting the conversation she was having with her daughter (I think) and grandkinds. “No worries she said, though I better put on some make-up”, she joked. Of course, she could have told me to piss off, but didn’t and was really nice about the invasion of her private space.
As a way of apologising, I guess, I told her I was going to see the show next Wednesday night. “Hopefully, it’ll be alright by then” she joked in that wonderful accent of hers.
I thanked her, and immediately SMS’d a couple of friends who would know who she was. A nice moment. And of course, I couldn’t wait to blog about this.
You step into an art exhibition, you stroll through the rooms, you glance at the works, perhaps read a few artist statements. It’s a perfectly valid way to experience art. But sometimes, to truly feel the art, to unravel its layers and connect with its heartbeat, a guided tour is indispensable.
And that’s exactly what I did today at Sydney’s White Rabbit Gallery, for their current exhibition “Tender Comrade”. There were only three of us on the tour, so it was a really intimate experience, and the guide was both knowledgeable and seemed genuinely interested in the works,
The exhibition, running from June 18 to November 16, explores LGBTQIA+ themes from China. Our guide revealed that roughly half the artists featured identify as queer, while the other half are non-queer allies. The sheer variety of media on display is impressive: video art, immersive installations, evocative paintings, and striking photography.
One particular multi-panel video work on the top floor initially left me bewildered. The video works by Isaac Chong Wai depicted moments of violence, but without context, it felt somewhat abstract to me, the first time I saw the works. However, once our guide explained that the violence derived from the artists own experience of being gay bashed, it made so much more sense.
Then there’s the showstopper at the very beginning of the exhibition, right on the bottom floor: a bold, unmissable piece that portrays what could be described as a “glory hole,” featuring a figure bent over, with their genitals vividly displayed. It’s a huge, blown-up creation that instantly grabs your attention, typical of White Rabbit’s penchant for “big, stunning works – those showstoppers.” What makes this work particularly fascinating, as our guide pointed out, is that it’s modeled on the artist himself. This raw self-exposure, presented on such a grand scale, speaks volumes.
Xia Han’s inflatable sculpture “Humiliation” from the Tender Comrade exhibition at White Rabbit Gallery
This same artist also has a captivating video work on the ground floor that delves into role-playing games and how they serve as a platform for exploring, emphasizing, and covering notions of gender identity. It’s a brilliant insight into how contemporary culture, even seemingly niche activities, can become spaces for self-discovery and expression.
Among the other video works that truly stood out, one cleverly deconstructs the concept of a boy band, reimagining and dissecting the different character archetypes within such a group. In a nearby room, another video work transports viewers to an “intergalactic TV news program,” subtly weaving in elements of Taoist philosophy. These pieces offer a fascinating blend of contemporary commentary and ancient wisdom.
While the exhibition comes with an explicit warning, I personally didn’t find anything overtly shocking. However, I did observe that some visitors who were likely not queer seemed a little uncomfortable with certain elements, quickly moving on when things got a little “raunchy”.
One piece that truly resonated with me was a beautiful video work simply titled “Passion.” It beautifully explores classic homoerotic imagery, particularly of sailors, evoking a sense of timeless desire and longing. It’s a work that embraces classic homoeroticism with a tender and evocative touch, and I found myself utterly captivated.
Wang Jun-Jieh Passion, 2017 video (colour, sound), 13 min 25 sec
If you have the chance, don’t just go and look – join a tour. It will undoubtedly add immeasurable depth to your experience and truly unlock the powerful narratives held within these remarkable works.
Love this
I’ve been caught out by this form of advertising, if that is what it is, but I don’t mind as it is original and clever.
I hope it is not advertising but rather an interesting 21st Century variation on the ‘Eternity’ messenger of days gone by.