After the MONA library came MONA itself. The library was on the lowest level, had to go through The Tunnel to get to it. Even that is a “work of art”, a soundscape in the dark. In fact, everything at MONA is “art” …. not necessarily by everyone’s definition though! In the few days since I’ve been home I’ve been asked did I find MONA interesting, challenging, confronting, exciting, amazing. In that there was so much that didn’t do it for me, I’ll settle for “interesting”.
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| Approaching MONA |
Firstly, the building … it’s hewn out of rock and some of the internal walls are soaring sandstone, almost as though you’re in a huge cave. I loved that. Externally, the building is almost literally rusted onto the landscape. The internal layout isn’t straight-forward – you’re supposed to stumble on things at random. You do. You also miss things that way. But I think I covered most of the gallery.
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| Natural rock walls |
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| The Void Bar |
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| Overhead walkway and glass lift (elevator) |
Everyone has heard about so much not being suitable for children. There’s nothing in the exhibition spaces to say “Stop! Children keep out.” Your only clues are in the visitor guide leaflet. But since so much is interspersed throughout the displays, it’s basically not a place for children at all. Although taking a very young child to Cloaca Professional, aka The Poo Machine, might hasten toilet training by giving them a whiff of what they smell like with loaded nappies!! But art? I don’t think so.
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| The Poo Machine |
I definitely didn’t go to the Death Gallery. Only two people at a time could enter the space and the queues were always too long when I passed by. I don’t do queues. I asked an attendant what exactly was in there and he told me: an ancient Egyptian Mummy and a CAT scan of what remained of the body. Well, working in a health library, CAT scans are not exactly news – or art! Besides, there’s always the NLM’s Visible Human Project. I wasn’t confronted by depictions of deformed, maimed, beheaded, castrated bodies. More puzzled by the minds that could produce such works. With graphic films, video games and the rest, sadly such depictions don’t even have the capacity to shock any more. I was shocked though by books whose pages had been gouged out to make a nestling place for bombs. If that’s art, it’s at the obscene end of the spectrum.
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| Obscenity |
Sydney Nolan’s Snake wall was mammothly impressive. Very reminiscent of Nolan’s Paradise Garden, no longer what it was since the refurbishment (bling-ation) of Hamer Hall in Melbourne. I also spotted three paintings from Nolan’s Leda and the Swan series as I ambled about.
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| Snake (part thereof) |
I enjoyed entering a small maze-like space where, in the centre, there was a small room with a high mirrored ceiling. It was quite disconcerting to look up and see yourself standing on your head!
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| That's me, top left |
Probably the greatest surprise was a piece of ancient Egyptian carving. I only ever think of them as white or cream, or alabaster if you prefer. But there were remnants of colour on this piece and all of a sudden I could imagine the riot of colour that all of these carvings must have been … rather like realising the colour that was bleached from English churches by Puritans.
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| A promise of riotous colour |
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More colour – a rainbow of
light on the walkway, looking towards the glass lift.
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Mea culpa! Confession time. I got into trouble for touching the art! I went into this room, lined with bookshelves, all the shelves filled with white books. That was a bit of a joke for us library folk, thinking of people who want a book, they can’t remember the title or the author …. but they can remember the colour of the cover – and with that scrap of information you’re supposed to find what they want! Anyway, in the middle of this room were some small tables and chairs with paper and white books scattered across them. I swear I thought this was the children’s play space that so many galleries have these days. No, no, no!! Even that was part of the “art”, as I found out when I fanned the pages of one of the books on the table, wondering if there was anything inside. Don’t touch!!! I didn’t feel embarrassed (not too much at least) because I got the feeling all the other people in the room saw too what a joke it was.
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| “Not” the children’s activity room!! |
The grounds outside are extensive, so much so that I didn’t see much of that side of MONA at all. There was a large stage with a band playing. Bean bags scattered about for people to loll about on. Apparently a helicopter landed on the grassed area in front of the stage and disgorged a passenger – so said my colleagues who saw it all while lunching in the restaurant. Having now flown in a helicopter (twice!) all I can say is …. give me the water and ferry every time!
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| Reserved parking |
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| Stage area |
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| Looking towards The Source restaurant |
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| Inside a wooden tee-pee |
Re-entering the building I noticed what I missed on first arriving – the front wall is highly reflective. I didn’t even realise that, at first. Even on my second entry, I just thought how peculiar that the front wall was patterned like cams – but that was because it was reflecting, like a funny mirror at Luna Park, the colours of the tennis court of sorts that is the forecourt.
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| Street entrance to MONA |
One really less than appealing feature, especially to women, is that the loos are uni-sex. That said, you do have to go. And what a surprise, how weird, how long do you stay there – when you sit down, and the sitting is essential, a film is screened on the floor in front of you!!
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Take a seat to see the film
in the loo!!
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I could go on and on. When people say you could spend much more than a day at MONA, that is 100% correct …. in spite of only one of my library colleagues being with me on the last boat back to Hobart! (Philistines, the rest of them!!) But I’ll finish with my favourite piece – and it was the first thing I looked at properly (having glanced at quite a few works on the way down to the library).
Near the library in its very own small pavilion (the Kiefer Pavilion) is
Sherivath ha Kelimby Anselm Kiefer, bookshelves containing books of lead and glass in higgledy piggledy order, and with the floor littered with broken glass. I was lucky enough to have some time there completely on my own. The silence in the space was something else. It was so pure it was like being in a bubble, apart from the rest of the world. If there’d been a seat to sit on I would have stayed there a whole lot longer – or at least until the spell was broken by the arrival of another visitor.
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Looking through the glass
walkway to the Kiefer Pavilion
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Sherivath ha Kelim by Anselm
Kiefer
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Perhaps the very biggest surprise of all is that MONA is in Tasmania. You could scarcely pick a less likely place. And the crowds are flocking to it. Rightly so. But it's so spacious there's more than enough room for everybody - except maybe in the food areas at lunchtime!
While you can get to MONA by road, travelling up the Derwent on a boat is absolutely, definitely the way to go!
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| Leaving MONA |
