Heat. Like nothing else. Navigating the backroom of an art supply store cum student gallery. It's done up like a maze, garbage bag lined walls, blocked out windows, low ceiling. Sweat palpably pouring down the sides of my head. I duck into a corner when I see a girl that went to my high school, she was in the year above me and once we went to art camp in Adelaide. Her posse were all tall girls with big hair, lazing around in the bathroom smoking joints. I thought I was bad to the bone for my hip flask of vodka and packet of Marlboro lights but you learn. Catastrophe. That is what this exhibition is called. I hit my head on the chassy (sp?) of an installation vehicle... shit. Looking at 3d paper cut outs of ferris wheels and tennis courts with big earthquake holes, UV lights, darkness, glowing teeth of people walking by, smiling and drinking sangria. Heat. It is 7 o'clock Thursday night, bright city outside with hot wind blowing occasional fat rain drops.
Next gallery. Goths standing up on the pavement outside the basement. The exhibition is called Ossuarium by Julia De Ville. The first thing I encounter is a stuffed rabbit, flesh removed from the neck region, bones plated in silver. The rabbit has jewels for eyes. There are necklaces made of the bones of birds and lots of taxidermy. Heat. We climb up to a rooftop near a theatre and drink imported beer as it becomes night and the cool change comes through. The city crawls with people, lights go green. The next train arrives at Parliament.