I'm typing from some internet cafe in the centre of Melbourne, feet throbbing from having walked around and around and around and frigging AROUND. All good fun, of course, and being from the BookStud I get to wander into galleries and art supply places and introduce myself and get friendly treatment. And I love the public transport here. Canberra public transport -- well, it shouldn't even be called PUBLIC, becuase there's nothing public about it -- sucks big ones. I love being able to jump on and off trams to get to and fro and not having to wait long for trains. In fact I'm sitting here because my next point of call is over to Chez Sills Bend (II), where Miss Lucy Tartan is shortly getting home from work and preparing to meet me at the station. HOORAY!
Yesterday I got off the plane and had to wait in a huuuugge looooooong line for a taxi, because as GoAwayPlease wrote in my comments a few days ago, Tullamarine is mad, thanks to the Grand Pricks. Still, I managed to get one and still arrive at Fluffy's house by 11am, which I'm sure was an estimate she'd scoffed at when I'd sent it too her.
Fluffy is lovely, of course she is. And so is Jelly, who was taking a studybreak when I arrived. Their house is in a classic Melbourne streetscape, and there was a smell of ripe figs in the air as I got out of the taxi, from Fluffy's fruit-laden tree, a nice smell that if I ever smell it again, will evoke Melbourne.
We went to the NGV and saw a great little exhibition called Picture to Print, which displays original drawings, paintings and even prints next to their steel-engraved reproductions.
There were lots of things to admire, and even to hoot over, and we did lots of hooting, but I think my favorite was the Knowing Goat, who is in this image by Boucher:
The Knowing Goat doesn't reproduce well here; it's right down the front, looking out. If you get a chance to see it for yourself, check out the eyes. That goat has seen things. Maybe saucy things. It wants to tell you all about them but that stupid frame is in the way. The fact that the knowing eyes haven't been lost between picture and print just shows that they're an integral part of that picture; there's a lot of writing about The Gaze in art, whether it be male or female, looking out or looking in, but what about when it's an animal gaze? Any discussion in the comments is most welcome!
After Fluffy dropped me at my luxurious quarters (I'm not kidding, I'm using a friend's Hawthorn flat, and it's very comfortable), I sorted out my gear then hopped a train back into town and wallowed in such great places as Sticky Comics, down below Flinders St Station, and all the great little shops in the laneways around there. I'm not much of a shopper, but it's nice to have the time to look. I bought a stack of zines, but that's about it. Today I've been hanging around Fitzroy, looking at prints and feeling up paper samples. Such fun.
I could do with a little less heat, though, Melbourne. We're promised a change tonight, and it would be most welcome. Bring on some miserable weather! Go on, I dare you. Oh -- and RRR is teh bomb. I've been listening to it ever since Fluffy's car radio showed me where it is on the dial.