Jetty Tour Day 6 - Art Galleries & Coffee

In 2017, we spent five days in Broken Hill and pretty much gave the highlights package a good run, so this trip, a full day in town was really all we needed to punch all the buttons.

Parking at the western end of the main drag, Argent St, the walk of several blocks to the other end reveals what a busy and so very occupied place Broken Hill is. There aren't many country cities who don't have multiple empty shop fronts staring blankly out in condemnation of disengagement along their main streets and yet in the four most busy city blocks, we saw one. Its a city of all sorts and that's what you meet on the footpaths. One concerned older aboriginal woman asked me "excuse me sir. Aren't you the gentleman who slipped and fell on the street here yesterday?" She took some convincing that I wasn't.

We started out morning with what turned out to be a search for our favourite BH cafe, The Silly Goat. It was trickier than we might have expected because they have moved. Google would have solved the problem quickly but its nice to use a bit of ingenuity to problem solve occasionally ... and then ask Google! Once found, we reveled in great coffee and a range of sweats that were free of all of the things we can't have but full of indulgence anyway. A couple of octogenarian locals struck up a conversation - yes I know, hard to believe it wasn't us initiating - and told us about their lives lived exclusively in Broken Hill. Sweet old couple who finished each other's sentences. For us, its one of the reasons we travel - to meet people, not finish each other's sentences.

Our secondary objective was across the road: the Broken Hill Regional Art Gallery, with its temporary exhibitions and a collection valued at $10 million. Downstairs were the entries in the Maari Ma Indigenous Art Awards, a competition open to all indigenous artists of the western plains. There was also a fascinating and at times disturbing exhibition by Cathy Farry of small illustrated books on the topic of "Shame". People were asked the same four questions and their responses dictated how Farry illustrated or made the books, many of which are called tunnel books.

Upstairs was Annette Minchin's series of works, the best of which was Cry Me A River, a series of impressions of faces on a multitude of materials which depicts the many people who are reliant on rivers and the many faces of a river.

Of course, part of the magnificent collection is displayed in the main hall upstairs and in a short circuit you can see works by Lloyd Rees, Ken Done, Arthur Streeton, Frederick McCubbin, Jack Absalom, Pro Hart ... the list really does go on. A wonderful gallery who doing the most incredible things to support and promote indigenous artists, with a strong emphasis on youth.

Walking back up Argent St, we stopped at the facade of the old town hall. Slated to demolished in the early 1970's, agitation caused a compromise and a narrow section of the front building which contains the staircase, was saved and is now occupied by West Darling Arts. A collective which supports artists from west of the Darling River, their displays were most impressive. We met one of the artists, Shane Vink, who was vacuuming ahead of an opening tonight. We took part in a most interesting discussion about Wilcannia.

Here's a thing: Broken Hill has more art galleries than pubs. I'm pretty certain that doesn't count places that used to be pubs but still.

The rest of the town hall was removed. Its a car park. Go figure.

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We had lunch, did some shopping - Sue shopping, me sitting in a cafe writing words into some degree of sense - and then returned back out to our digs fifteen kms out of town. While Sue read and rested for a while, I went to the bar with my laptop and finished re-writes of the first act of the next play. Red dust, rocks, a wide verandah, laptop, Iron Jack and me. That will do me for a good way to finish the day.

Dinner in the camp kitchen tonight and finishing off the fruit before the border. We are skipping town as the St Patricks Day races get into full swing. Sounds like a wild turn out.