Wednesday, April 20, 2022


Still not satiated in my hunger for fine art, today I went into the city centre to sample the Ian Potter Centre, Melbourne’s second state art gallery, with a slight orientation further towards modern art than the NGV.

Overall, I liked it. Some of the curatorial decisions were a bit basic - a photo of Queen Elizabeth II placed next to a photo of an irritated aboriginal woman (ARE YOU COMPARING AND CONTRASTING!? ARE YOU!? OBSERVE THE JUXTAPOSITION, RACISTS!) - but there were some sweet and/or powerful works.


Tony did not appreciate being posed with the Angel of Death. But then neither did the gallery guard, who tersely chastised me for touching the art. I could have pointed out that Tony touched the art, not me, but that’s just another step down the road to being an irksome old man who is followed by eyerolls wherever he goes, so I resisted.

Following our arduous journey through the intricacies of modern art, it was time to sink comfortably into the simplicity of booze. We settled in a bistro on the banks of the Yarra, surrounded by greenery (and the thunder of diesel freight locomotives at the train yard next door) and I ordered a Pavlova Sour (pavlova-flavoured vodka with passionfruit liqueur and strawberry dust). Tonya approved.


After all that Melbourne’s been through with the pandemic, the name of the glassware seemed appropriate.



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