Public Art in Surry Hills

ByJames O'Brien

A couple of days ago a friend and neighbour alerted me to a new piece of public art in Surry Hills, on the wall of the nearby Bourke Street Bakery.

Her post on Facebook made me somehow more conscious of the public art that already surrounds me.

The queues for bread at the Bourke Street Bakery already make me think of Soviet Russia. Is that Lenin in the mural?
The bird mural on Edgley/Nickson Streets
The pottery store on Nickson Street
And the wonderful mural of Adam Goodes, on the corner of Crown and Fitzroy Streets, Surry Hills

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Winter Hits Sydney

It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m half-watching “The Simpsons” on Foxtel. It’s the episode where it’s revealed Principal Skinner isn’t really a war hero after all. I really love this show and in the last few days I’ve also seen one of my all time favourites, the one where Mrs Crabopple and Principal Skinner fall in love. It’s the one where Mrs Crabopple utters the classic line about her nights at home, “It’s just salad for one, soup for one and wine for three”. I’ve also just been watching three or four episodes back to back of “Will & Grace”.

Does that give you enough of an insight into my Sunday? Actually I received an invitation to see “The Producers”, but I’m feeling a bit anti-social so I’ve decided an afternoon indoors is probably the right thing. And why not? After weeks of delay, and the warmest April on record, it seems that winter has finally arrived in Sydney. I wore a jacket for the first time yesterday and looking out my window I see the park across the road, which is normally quite busy, is empty aside from a rugged up father and son on the swings.

Speaking of miserable weather: I had two days in Melbourne this week. On my first night there, my friend Sue and I had planned to go out for dinner with a colleague at one of Melbourne’s best-kept secrets, the Supper Inn. Along the way, we paid a visit to Heffernan Lane in Chinatown where there’s an interesting community arts project underway based around moments of wisdom and poetry featured on ordinary street and neon signs. Phrases, such as “Commit No Nuisance”, “It is the opposite which is good for us” and “We listen to it and do not hear it” made for an interesting diversion on our way to dinner.

There’s actually a brief story about Melbourne’s lanes on the website of the Melbourne Age. Although it’s interesting, I couldn’t possibly agree with the classically Melbournian self-serving assertion that Sydneysiders envy Melbourne’s lanes. They have an intimacy, a palpable history, you won’t find amid northern skyscrapers and harbour panoramas. Has the author ever gone beyond Circular Quay, ever taken a walk say a hundred metres to the oldest evidence of European civilisation in Australia around the lanes of “The Rocks” or “Surry Hills”?

Unfortunately though we didn’t actually get to eat at the Supper Inn since my workmate fell ill just after we ordered and I had to take her to the hospital. I’ll tell you what the Supper Inn is like next time I visit Melbourne.

The other social highlight of my week was yesterday when I went to the 16ft Skiff Club at Manly for Donna’s birthday drinks. Unlike most occasions when I catch the Manly Ferry, this time I caught the Jet Cat which takes a slightly different route and which allows you really great views. The Skiff Club is one of Sydney’s great secrets with its spectacular views and cheap beer and food prices. It was a great afternoon and it was really lovely to catch up with “the usual crew”.

Not much else to report at this stage, except that father and son have moved from the swing and are now just sitting having a chat. The next two weeks will be fun with visits by Patrick, Sue and Anthony and next weekend’s Eurovision Song Contest Party. Also sometime this week, Damo and I are gonna catch up for a meal.

P.S. Happy Birthday Sue

Is it just me, or is the text on the Australian inbound arrival card getting smaller?

Is it just me, or is the text on the Australian inbound arrival card getting smaller?

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Is it just me, or is the text on the Australian inbound arrival card getting smaller? Between the tiny font, the bright yellow background, and the notoriously dim cabin lighting, I found myself squinting at those boxes, wondering if my eyesight is failing or if they’re trying to fit a novel’s worth of regulations onto a piece of cardboard. I used the camera app on my phone to zoom in. It’s a stark contrast to the simplicity of the flight itself. I noticed there is a trial underway for an electronic version—similar to what I used when travelling to Thailand—and I truly hope they roll that out soon to save us all the headache.

Incoming passenger card

My final day in Bangkok was all about the slow burn—or rather, avoiding it. With the mercury hitting 34°C, I spent the bulk of the day hiding in the glorious air-conditioning of my hotel room. I did attempt to head up to the pool twice in the morning, but it was a sea of tourists claiming every available chair. Instead of fighting for a spot, I retreated to my room to recover from the exertion of the last few weeks, listening to podcasts, and soaking up the cool air.

Before heading off, I did a final cull of my luggage to keep things light and easy. I left a few bits of clothing behind, ensuring my bag was well under the limit before I made my way to the airport. The transit was simple enough—a quick tuk-tuk trip to the train station and then the airport. Once there, I bypassed the crowded lifts to the fourth floor; there were just too many people with massive suitcases to make it worth the wait. Checking in with Jetstar was a breeze, even with that slight moment of “luggage-weight anxiety” we all get.

The flight itself was actually wonderful. I scored a bulkhead seat with only two of us in the row of three, and the crew were absolutely terrific.

We arrived in Brisbane earlier than expected, which usually sounds like a win—except for me, it just meant a much longer wait at the airport before the final hop. I’d clearly reached a peak level of relaxation by then, because by the time the flight attendant came to get me for pre-boarding for the final leg, I’d actually fallen asleep.

As we were leaving Brisbane, most of the other passengers had to do the walk up the stairs from the tarmac, but another woman and I were able to use the lift.

There’s always that distinct sense of travel shock when you arrive back home—seeing familiar faces in familiar surroundings after being a world away. By the time I finally walked into my apartment, the exhaustion was starting to set in. I think I underestimated just how much of an exhilaration it would be to return to a peaceful home after three weeks of such intensity.

I’ve got a couple of days to decompress before heading back to work. And then? It’s only a couple of weeks until the next adventure begins… though I can’t talk about that one just yet.

First Sunday Roast Club (Update)

First Sunday Roast Club (Update)

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If you grew up in Australia, and think of a “Sunday Roast” your mind probably jumps straight to the classic clichés of a predominantly English/Irish heritage: a slightly overcooked leg of lamb, a bowl of soft boiled peas, a mountain of mashed potato, and a sea of thick, salty gravy. It’s the traditional English and Irish style that dominated our family kitchens and local RSL carveries for generations. Comforting? Absolutely. Predictable? Always. Tasty? Mostly.

But there is a whole world of roast lunches out there that completely defies those old clichés.

Exactly twelve months after I found myself in a hospital bed recovering from a lower leg amputation, a few of my closest friends and I got together for a makeshift “Thanksgiving” lunch. It was a chance to celebrate milestones, look forward, and simply enjoy being around a table together.

We loved the ritual so much that we decided to keep it going. Almost every month since that first gathering, the First Sunday Roast Club has met up to explore the wildly diverse roast lunches hidden across Sydney’s pubs, restaurants, and clubs.

What we discovered is that Sydney has taken the humble weekend tradition and blown it wide open. By tracking our monthly rounds, we have mapped out (so far) a number of completely distinct styles that prove the modern roast is anything but boring.

At The Duke of Clarence in the Sydney CBD, the Sunday roast leans completely into an authentic, deeply traditional British tavern experience, capturing the mood of a historic London pub.
The plate features generously sliced, tender roast beef as its centerpiece, cooked to a rustic doneness that retains its rich, savoury depth. Rather than modern fusion twists, this dish confidently honors classic cliches while ensuring execution of the highest standard.
The trimmings are meticulously arranged to strike a balance between texture and nostalgia. The plate is packed with bright green, snappy garden peas, alongside vibrant stalks of broccolini and slender, skin-on roasted baby carrots that carry a natural sweetness. A signature, heavily puffed Yorkshire pudding sits proudly at the forefront, boasting a beautifully craggy, golden-brown crust ready to handle a heavy pour. Accompanying the feast is a deep, glossy, traditional pan gravy served in a classic metal pouring jug, allowing you to coat the dish to your liking. It is a wonderfully faithful, unpretentious homage to the historic English roasts many grew up with.
At Morrison’s Oyster Bar & Grill on George Street, the Sunday roast takes a wonderfully traditional, rustic turn, firmly embracing the art of the classic British carvery with a premium inner-city execution.
The star of this plate is a beautifully rolled roast pork loin, boasting a crown of deeply golden, blistered crackling that promises a magnificent crunch. The meat itself is exceptionally tender, locking in its natural juices alongside a deeply savoury herb stuffing visible right at its centre.
Rather than standard boiled sides, Morrison’s opts for a beautifully textured arrangement. The plate is built upon a foundation of chunkily cut, deeply roasted potatoes with crisp edges, nested alongside wilted dark leafy greens, caramelised baby carrots, and a large, deeply browned Yorkshire pudding that acts as the perfect vessel for absorbing the meal’s juices. Tying it all together is a concentrated, glossy pan gravy served in a dedicated metal ramekin, allowing you to control the exact level of richness on your plate. It is a hearty, classic roast that values satisfying textures and time-honoured flavours above all else.
At The Forrester’s in Surry Hills, the immediate, jaw-dropping centrepiece here is not the meat, but a colossally oversized, plate-spanning Yorkshire pudding. It doesn’t sit politely on the side; instead, it acts as a massive, golden-brown edible bowl that cradles the entire meal.
Tucked deep inside this pastry fortress are generous slices of traditional roast beef, completely smothered in a rich, glossy gravy that pools perfectly within the pudding’s base. The trimmings are unashamedly hearty, featuring chunkily cut, deeply roasted potatoes, sweet wedges of roasted pumpkin, a thick roasted carrot, and a handful of bright green garden peas scattered over the top. It is a wonderfully fun, theatrical, and exceptionally filling take on the tradition, proving that some Sydney venues prefer to reinvent the roast through sheer, glorious scale.
At Rocker in Bondi, the Sunday roast masterfully bridges the gap between beachside casual and high-end culinary execution, delivering what can only be described as a refined coastal comfort feast.
The plate features a meticulously prepared, succulent roast pork loin with an immaculate border of perfectly rendered, golden crackling that adds a crucial textured crunch. Rather than feeling overly heavy for its oceanside setting, the kitchen balances the dish with incredibly bright and thoughtful accompaniments.
The protein sits in a shallow pool of rich, translucent pan reduction, topped with a vibrant bundle of snap-fresh, char-grilled broccolini and glazed heirloom carrots that lend a subtle sweetness. Alongside the greens are exceptionally crisp, deep-golden roast potatoes boasting a beautifully fluffy interior, paired with a prominent, tightly structured Yorkshire pudding that is deeply browned and crisp on the edges. It is an impressive, beautifully balanced plate that elevates traditional elements, making it the ideal reward after a coastal Sunday walk.
At The Waratah in Darlinghurst, the Sunday roast steps firmly into high-end gastropub dining with a modern “Australiana” aesthetic. The centrepiece features beautifully sliced, tender roast beef cooked to a medium-rare blush, complete with a glistening, well-rendered cap of fat that ensures every bite remains incredibly succulent.
Rather than relying on basic boiled vegetables, the kitchen elevates the trimmings with superb texture and charred flair. The plate is piled with long spears of char-grilled broccolini, a deeply caramelised split roast carrot, a crispy hassleback potato, and a beautifully puffed, golden Yorkshire pudding.
Tying the whole dish together is a rich, glossy pool of house-made pan jus. True to the venue’s focus on native Australian ingredients, this gravy features a unique twist by incorporating apple and native muntries, cutting the rich beef with a subtle fruit sweetness. It is a showstopping roast that respects tradition while refining it completely.
At Bar Cleveland in Surry Hills, the Sunday roast completely transitions into a shared Mediterranean feast, abandoning single-plated formality for an interactive, communal dining experience.
The undisputed centrepiece of the giant platter is a massive, slow-roasted lamb shoulder. It is beautifully rustic, heavily seasoned with dried oregano and garlic, and cooked until the meat is incredibly tender and ready to pull apart with a pair of tongs.
True to its Greek-inspired style, the traditional English gravy is nowhere to be seen. Instead, the platter is punctuated with fresh lemon wedges for cutting through the rich meat, alongside a cooling bowl of creamy, herb-flecked tzatziki. The sides are equally rustic and generous, featuring large, golden Greek-style roast potatoes, thick wedges of roasted pumpkin, and a separate, vibrant bowl of classic Greek salad loaded with crumbled feta, cucumbers, tomatoes, and Kalamata olives. Served right in the middle of the table, it is a magnificent example of a social weekend roast designed to be lingeringly shared over a glass of red wine.
At the Salisbury Hotel in Stanmore, the Sunday roast completely sheds its European skin and embraces a brilliant Asian-fusion reinvention. It recognises that the true heart of the tradition isn’t about spuds or gravy—it’s about sharing sliced, slow-cooked meat on a weekend.
The star of this vibrant plate is a beautifully roasted duck breast, sliced into elegant medallions. The meat is tender and blushed, showcasing a flawlessly rendered, deeply spiced skin that provides a beautiful, crispy snap.
True to its street-food inspiration, knives and forks are entirely optional here. Instead of a Yorkshire pudding, the foundation is a fan of delicate, warm Peking duck-style pancakes. The traditional trimmings are completely swapped out for crisp cucumber batons, curls of fresh spring onion, a tangy mountain of kimchi, and pickled white radish to cut beautifully through the rich duck. Finished with a dedicated dipping cup of glossy, sweet hoisin sauce, it is a magnificent example of a modern, border-crossing roast that perfectly reflects the multicultural reality of Sydney’s inner west.

Over lunch we enjoy some great conversation over a bottle, sometimes two, of red wine.

There are so many other places we have visited, but I thought this gives an interesting summary of what we’ve experienced so far. There will be many more, I’m sure.

Margaret Preston

Kate and I went to see the Margaret Preston retrospective at the Art Gallery of NSW this afternoon. Although I know more about Australian art than the average Australian and Kate knows a lot more than I do, we were both surprised by Preston’s later work.

Margaret Preston is best known for her still life work of Australian native flowers. The exhibition explains that, as a product of her time, she had strong feelings about Australian independance, evident in her earlier artwork’s emphasis on Australian fauna (banksias in particular).

Although I understand the historical context in which she was painting, there was not a lot to my modern eye, aside from the occasional beautiful work. Although I did really like her works around Mosman.

What really caught my eye was her later work, undertaken in the 1940s and 1950s, when she discovered Aboriginal art through her visits to Central Australia. Although the exhibition notes reflect on her interest in a colonialist kind of way, saying that she looked at the landscape as “unexplored territory” (implicit is the notion that she was just as exploitative as previous artists), I think her contact led to a genuine richness in her work not previously evident.

Although I thought the lines of her early landscape work were too strong to be truly reflective of the Australian landscape, you can see a dramatic learning cure in her later work. What surprised us both most was the similarity of some of her later work to that of Chris O’Doherty (aka Reg Mombassa), especially since Kate was at the National Art School at the same time as Reg. Although I had a camera on me, I thought it was wrong to even attempt to capture the moment when Reg, himself, viewing the exhibition, looked at the “Adam & Eve” works by Preston. The moment was an incredible one that I hope will remain in my memory for some time to come as “one of those magic moments”.

Neither Kate nor I had any knowledge of this aspect of Preston’s work. Nor had we any idea of the impact it clearly has had, intentionally or not, on one of the country’s most important contemporary artists.

So if you’re thinking Margaret Preston is just lovely flowers, think again. Although most of those attending the exhibition were, as Kate observed, “women of a particular age and a particular class”, there’s a lot more to Preston’s work than you might instantly imagine.

Edmund White

Edmund White

I had a lovely surprise at work today, being presented with this autographed copy of the new book by Edmund White, an autobiography.

White had been in to work a few days ago and I’d mentioned to a colleague how much I’d enjoyed A Boy’s Own Story (and after that “The Beautiful Room Is Empty”) as a teenager living in a small country town in Northern NSW.

As the book deals with growing up gay, it was a crucial book to read at the age of sixteen or seventeen. I told my colleague who was about to interview White how important the book was for me, and how I’d read half the book in the local “Angus & Robertson” before I’d summoned up the courage to actually purchase it. I also remember in hindsight, the young man behind the counter telling me how much he’d enjoyed reading the book, and how much I’d also enjoy it, without realising what he was “really saying”.

“He’s outside, tell him”, my colleague urged me. “No, he’s heard this before, he wouldn’t care”. After a little urging, my colleague convinced me to go with him to meet White and to tell him the story of how important his book had been in my life, which, nervously, I did.

And that was it, or so I thought. Until today, when my colleague brought in this signed copy of his latest work.

Receiving this touched me in a number of ways: first, that White (who I admired immensely because of these books) could be bothered to do this. Second, that my colleague thought enough or me to either ask for this, or organise this. Nice stuff.

Edmund White
ABBAWORLD Frida Dress

More Swedish Pop

I’ve spent a bit of time tonight listening to a CD I haven’t listened to for a while: Djupa Andetag.

It’s a Swedish phrase which means “deep breaths”, as in “she takes every day with deep breaths”.

The album was recorded by Frida (formerly of ABBA) in the mid 1990s – coinciding with her fiftieth birthday – as a bit of a “mid-life statement” about her life, thoughts and beliefs.

Sounds all a bit Oprah, doesn’t it?

But it’s a really great album. All of the songs have great tunes as well as great lyrics.

This is one of the songs from the album, provided here with English subtitles.

Även en blomma
En människa som jag
Vill leva varje dag
I djupa andetag

“Like a flower, a human like me, will live every day in deep breaths…”

It’s a great clip, with shades of just about every Scandinavian film you’ve ever seen.

Please don’t be so harsh as to suggest the old lady in the clip is Agnetha, though :)

And here’s one without English subtitles, but essentially it’s all about how you understand the human soul from the person’s eyes…

Ögonen
Det syns i ögonen
När han äntligen får äga henne
Ögonen
Hon ler med ögonen
Mot en hand som når
Tar och får
Ögon ser varann i själerna
Och förstår

“Eyes, it’s in the eyes, you look in the eyes and you understand…”

“Do yourself a favour…”

3 Comments

  1. Great street art James. Have seen pics of the Adam Goodes portrait before. I especially like the one of the baker. I like the relationship between who is painted and where. You can tell immediately what his profession is even if you didn’t know it was on a bakery wall.
    Even in little old Geelong we have some good examples of street art and currently at Geelong Gallery we have a survey exhibition of arguably Australia’s best known street artist, Geelong born Rone. Although most of his work doesn’t appear on the streets nowadays.

    Reply

    1. The bird one too is wonderful. It’s directly opposite my place so I look at it most days.

      It was also the backdrop for a lovely profile photograph of Chris Bath when she was the Evenings Presenter on ABC Radio Sydney.

      And for the heroin bust that was on TV the other week.

      Will check out the gallery website.

      Reply

  2. They are all good, but I think they need to be able to be enlarged on your blog for a bigger picture. I especially like the Adam Goodes mural.

    Reply

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