The weekend has wound up after another two excellent days in Brisbane. The weather has held out as promised; each morning the birdsong and blue sky peeking through the venetian blinds has beckoned, suggesting summer-like days.
Yesterday morning we caught the bus into the city and shared the day
with thousands of others as excited about the good weather as us. We revisited
the Art Galley which currently is running the Portrait of Spain; Masterpieces from the Prado, a very popular
exhibition with a hefty price tag. We limited our viewing to those few artworks
left hanging in the galleries not commandeered for the visiting exhibition. Although
we had been to this gallery in February 2011, I remembered very little of it.
Perhaps it was because it had all been rearranged to accommodate the Prado
visitors?
Out in the garden between the gallery and the river, we sat near a
couple of musicians fiddling with their violins. When they moved off we thanked
them for the entertainment and they responded by suggesting we join them at a
gig around the corner. And so we did, finding ourselves in the middle of the Vintage Fashion Fair. We found seats
near the small stage and watched the crazy array of people wandering past, some
just like us who had happened upon the fair, but most decked out in their own
version of retro vintage; most dressed to kill and back to the future of the
1950s. Some of the girls had taken so much effort, and even though rather
plump, their makeup was flawless, the gloves appropriate, the brooches just so,
but all spoiled by the tattoos and the lip studs. We just did not do tats and
steel in those days, and most of us have chosen to remain unblemished by such.
Alas, tattooed women in vintage dress tend to look even more slutty than those
dressed in the fashions of today.
Our new musical friends were part of a quartet playing bluegrass amongst
other genres of music, playing violins, guitars, mandolins, banjo and a double
bass. We thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment; girls and music both.
We caught the river cats three times, zigzagging across the Brisbane
River to admire the buildings and parks either side. It was such a perfect day
for doing so. Then finally after catching a late afternoon bus, found ourselves
on a route that veered away from the direction of the camp. We hastily
disembarked and walked back nearly a couple of kilometres. I assured Chris the
exercise would do us good, however we did vow to only travel the 220 route in
the future rather than take the other suggested by the camp office.
Back into the city this morning we returned to the transport information
kiosk to clarify a few issues. We had read that after the ten trips within a
period of seven days, those following, still within the same seven days, were
free, hence our jumping on and off ferries and buses yesterday. Today we
learned that this system operates from Monday to Sunday (still seven days) but
with the set start and finish days. We had purchased our cards on Friday so
this hyperactivity had been all a waste of time, except for the fact we had
covered some very scenic areas and enjoyed every minute of it. We also learned
that transitional trips (within the hour) were considered as one, not two or
three.
We spent most of the day at the Gallery of Modern Art (aka GOMA),
something entirely unexpected. Although the visit to the gallery was planned,
past experience suggested that we would be in and out in no time at all.
Contrary to that expectation, we found much to admire and appreciate. The works
making up the National New Media Art Award
2012 mostly baffled us with their variety of kinetic and off the wall
displays, but was worth seeing. I preferred that titled “Across Country: Five Years of Indigenous Australian Art from the Collection”
encompassing works from urban areas to the rainforests of Northern Queensland,
from the Tiwi Islands to the Pilbara, and from the Western Desert to the Torres
Strait Islands.
Both Chris and I found that titled “Propaganda?”
particularly good; this featured a number of works in socialist realist styles
from China, Vietnam and North Korea. Work from the latter was a real surprise;
one tends to think of North Korea having locked doors to any domestic matters
except that which seeps through the approved media.
There were other works hanging about, some of which impressed and some
which only warranted a quick walk past. However needless to say, there was more
of interest than other galleries of modern art we have hitherto been exposed
to. And whether this comment has value to qualified art folk does not matter at
all.
We had taken an interlude out in the sunshine to lunch on the riverside,
from where we watched the ferries making their way up and down and remarked
that the cranes above the city centre signified that Brisbane was alive and
thriving. When we finally left the gallery, the sun was still warm and it
seemed a shame to go back inside to another part of the wonderful cultural
centre of Brisbane. Instead we set off along South Bank, to join the throngs of
Sunday leisure seekers, passing crowds gathered around buskers, noisy cafes and
bars, sunbathers scantily clad on the grass and by the manmade Streets Beach
and along the pathways stretching far along the river. Eventually we turned
back and made our way across the river to the central bus station, enjoyed an ice-cream
to fill time before the next bus and came on home uneventfully.
This evening we are continuing to enjoy the Olympics, even if we are
seeing only those events which feature star Australians. I have word from those
back in New Zealand that the Kiwis now have four gold medals while Australia
only has one. Go Kiwis!
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