The Tassie Trip

 There were two reasons I came to Tasmania this weekend. One was to see if I could finally get my cousin to the Museum of Old and New Art - also known as MONA. The other was to see if my cat can survive with  my downstairs neighbour popping in and feeding him.

I'm certain about the latter - I've been getting reports. Although she hasn't seen him, Lucifer has been eating and drinking and pooping - so he's fine. I'll be in the dognhouse when I get home, but thems the breaks. 

The former I wasn't so sure about - seeing the last time I tried to get her there she ended up babysitting her grandchildren and I went alone. I had a marvellous time pondering what is one of, in my opinion, the best art galleries in the world.  She lives less than two kilometres from the place, in the same suburb even - but has never been there. It's the way it is. I've never been the to Melbourne Cup, rarely go to St Kilda and only go to the football when coerced with the promise of mid-strength beer and a loss for The Crows. 

I'd also spent some time the evening before trying to sell the place to my cousin's husband - a salt of the earth type who's into football, racing, MMA and all things that have no interest at all to me. He thinks art is crap. That's okay, that's his opinion. I gave it my best shot. 

Also, Tasmanians go free to this place. If your from anywhere else, it's $35 entry. And it is worth every cent.

Well, this morning, after a two kilometre fast hike on foot, we made it!

We got there early. 

We met the old governor of Tasmania having a coffee. She rebuked my cousin for never coming along before this. I'd already introduced her to some of the outside art works - the metal flatbed lorry and cement mixer, made from cut rusty iron had her gawping. I was already bounding around like a labrador puppy. I love this place. 

For the next three hours we slowly made our way through this incredible building. 

As an art wanker, I was in my element. And yes, I know I'm an art wanker - I'll soak up anything like this in a heartbeat. The one thing I explained to my cousin, who's not of my arty ilk, is that you don't have to like everything. If it doesn't grab you, walk on. Find other things to appreciate - the phenomenal building - the light - the sounds scapes. She's also a bit of a floor nerd, so the terrazzo tiles in the entry had her suckered in. 

So we made our way down into the bowels of the building. 

What I love about going through a gallery with somebody is seeing their reactions. There were some things where we looked at each other and though, "Yeah... nah..." and we moved on. Other things were just stunning. 

We both had quite visceral reactions to the White Library - a library filled with blank, white books. What is the point? Exactly that. Where I see the opportunity, my cousin appreciated the silence of the place. Both of us are big readers - blank books are a hard concept for us. 

There was an obligatory visit to the poo machine, which wasn't too stinky. It had been fed about an hour before and was going to shit around 3 p.m. We were back home watching Vera then. 

My favourite space was the Ladies' Lounge - a closed off women's area where no men were allowed. Inside this very feminine space, modelled on an old Men's Club were housed Picassos, Boyds, and Nolans. No men allowed in - on talking to the girl who was the gatekeeper for the area, she said her job was hard - if you identified as a woman, you could get in - and some blokes were taking the piss. I felt like doing a fist pump. It was all a bit of a mind fuck, considering women have missed out on so much for so long.

The visit to the wall of vaginas  - 76 plaster moldings of 76 different vaginas mounted on the wall - didn't disappoint. As a woman, and the owner of a vagina, I was more interested in the facial expression of the people going past. The sly smiles from men were the best. 

The Ai Wei Wei white temple was also stunning. 

There are things in there which will incite. Others which will make you think. Some articles will make you smile. It's all great. 

After a couple of hours and after a coffee, we walked back home for a quiet afternoon watching Vera. 

And my cousin's verdict on the place?

We got home and she was extolling  the place's virtues - telling her husband he should go - not for the art, but to experience the building and the grounds. 

 My job is done. I'm writing this from the airport about to get my plane back home. 

I will be back. I really like it here. 

Plane's about to board. Gotta go. 

Today's song: