MONA

 I know nothing about this man called David Walsh. he came from Glenorchy which is a suburb of Hobart and he made a fortune with some Gambling system.  I have to say watching the regular TV channels here in southern Australia there a slew of gambling ads. All very artistic and clever, but have to wonder…..

I’m sure that is music to David Walsh’s ears. He declares himself a “ rabid Atheist.” He walks to a different drummer. But when I drove up to the place, I parked, but was having trouble working out how Cynthia could negotiate her way down to the entrance in her electric wheelchair . There was a “ guy”. He was in the car park. He was handsome and fit and well dressed. He saw I was pulling things out of the back of the car and he asked if he could help. I explained that the wheelchair wasn’t good at cambers or uneven surfaces  and I wanted to know the best way my friend could get to the entrance. He said, “ Well there, if you go down the driveway and turn by the olive trees, or you could go down by the zig -zag ramp, can she do a zig zag ramp? Hell, I can take her down the ramp. No problem. You park. No worries.”<

 The “guy” was Dylan. He wasn’t hanging around in the car park park to help people.  He was a big wig. A man close to the man. But help was help. And he walked beside her down every zig of the zag. Until she was safe on flat ground.  I parked. I met her by the entrance on the carpet tennis courts. Dylan…. Good man.

MONA. Dark, as I said. Quirky, as I said.  We went down corridors of sound, corridors of light. We saw political headlines being spelled out in waterfalls. I sat on a sofa and had a computer instruct me on the 3 minutes and 15 seconds it would take between a lethal injection and a shutting down. A lot was morbid. There was an odd Renoir to mirror a modern photograph. 

There was a piece by Maria Abramovic. You sat down. You were given a scoop of lentils and rice. You were told to separate the rice from the lentils. You were told not to talk. You were given ear plugs. You were told to count the rice  and the lentils. It was an opportunity to step outside of busy and concentrate. I have seen her work and been moved by it. I do know about being quiet. I do not know how to count. But I believe that Maria Abramovic will not lose faith in me.

the uncounted rice and lentils

We went and had lunch outside. A joyous cacophony. Wine. Water. Cider. Beer. Live music. A vineyard. A playground. A bar-b que cafe with a wallaby wrap on the menu. Seriously.

David Walsh… how great that you weren’t born in Queens or Berlin or Bermondsey where you could have been absorbed into “ new” innovation.  You built your “ indigestible-but-oh-so-tasty” collection in the green and pleasant hills of the suburbs of where you were brought up.

And where you live still and stand proud, rightly so,