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, the poo machine, the obese ferrari, was a big contained pile of impossibly blue sand on the floor. Like International Klein Blue.
I spent an inordinate amount of time looking at the pile of blue sand. She 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. Covid hit. 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.
