One of the first dates I took my lover on was to MONA, in Tasmania. MONA was founded by an eccentric mathematical fellow, David Walsh, who happens to be Australia's most successful professional gambler — almost. After making millions gambling, he carved out 10 stories of sandstone under a hill on a river near Hobart, and built a museum unlike any other.
One of the first things you see walking to the museum, to get a sense of its vibe, is David's prominant parking spot:
And his wife's:
Past the vagina wall, above the poo machine, near the obese ferrari, was a big pile of blue sand on the floor. International Klein blue. The blue. This blue here.
I spent an inordinate amount of time looking at this pile of impossibly blue sand.
My lover noticed. Now whenever we see this blue in the world (not often, sadly) she looks and me looking at it, and we laugh. I like this blue.
I began this series with the intention of making one piece every day, the constraints being paper, the blue, and charcoal. Then that virus became Covid. Everything went off the rails, my project, the world. But I began again, and this series became a little visual journal of life during Australia's (notorious) lockdowns.
