Overview
So I have a confession to make. I was just a tad cynical when I was asked to firstly preview, and then review the MCA's new ARTBAR. I know what you are thinking. How could anyone possibly poo poo a party? Or how about art + booze + Friday night + balcony overlooking Sydney Harbour on Vivid Opening night? Yeah. Well. It is quite a talent.
Here's the thing. I went to art school. I ran an artist run initiative for a couple of years. I knew people. I loved it. And then it all came to quite a dramatic halt. I left Locksmith Project Space. I left my commercial art gallery day job. Locksmith folded. I stopped making art. And I stopped going to openings for 18 months. In a nutshell, I divorced art. And I had a heavy break-up with all that is the emerging art scene in Sydney. And I was quite happy with that. Sometimes it happens. We change direction.
And then I realised that the only thing I was still doing - remotely related - was write about art. But I wasn't really writing, so much as berating. I was writing about hating art. And at the heart of it - it wasn't really art's fault. So now I say, 'Art. It wasn't you. It was me.'
But all this I only really realised on say, Saturday. So let's go back to Friday night. I meet my non-art friend at the train station. We trudge into Circular Quay. We wander about soaking up the Vivid antics, we settle into a pub in The Rocks. We grab a bite to eat and catch up on the week's events. Then, eventually, with nods of 'we should go' we sidle up to the entrance of the MCA. Before we even enter I run into a girl I used to go to uni with. And she excitedly tells me that there are heaps of kids from SCA upstairs. Oooo, can't wait.
She is right. I look around at the balcony of Christmas past. Everywhere lurks an artist from my previous life. Luckily I brought my #1 +1 so we set to work saying hellos and answering questions along the lines of where-you-been? And you know what? Time flew. Before we knew it the beer had run dry and we were handing over $24 in gold coins for two glasses of the last red on the shelf.
We never made it into the galleries, and we didn't see any of the performances. But it kinda didn't matter. I rekindled a love, I made peace with my past. I ran into old friends who might not notice you missing but when you are in front of their faces you feel like the only person in the world. And I remember the reason for openings for artists. Just for the talk. For the 'Oh, I did this and maybe you would be interested in this' and 'What are you thinking about at the moment?' The thing is ARTBAR is not a place for artists but amazingly enough the only people left after 8.30pm were artists. And they stayed. They caught up. They drank expensive plonk and huddled around the heaters on the deck.
