Eastern Suburbs Art Group

These sparkly items on the walls were thin in signification, I really couldn't work out if it was a joke or if it was serious. Maybe I'm being overly censorious. Maybe it's me who is the problem. Me and my partners in art get to a lot of galleries over the course of a month but does that mean I'm topical? Should the word be some other. In a way it's a luxury to be out of date. You don't have to prove yourself anymore. Or maybe you have to prove yourself in more than one way. I hardly know it's after 4am and I have been talking with people in Europe and the US so yes, that should make me very much out of date. I think some of the people were in yeseterday.

After R Morecroft's attempts at depicting the natural world, the paintings at Arthouse Gallery were a relief. Though Morecroft's works have a slim allegiance to nature, Moss' works are highly funcitonal as renditions of a kind of admiration for what can be found in Australia. At the time I saw the paintings I was more concerned with the people in the room -- perhaps gallery openings are not really my "thing", though most people have no problems -- but looking at the reproductions now I think about whether they are particular to a place. Specificity is a quality of any work of art because it has an effect on memory. Ok, so here I am at the outset saying that I liked Moss' works more than R Morecroft's. But so what? It might be necessary for me to revisit the gallery at a different time, when there are fewer people present.

When I got to the gallery a friend had already left. Michael and I had a look at the canvases. Well, I had a look and Michael went off to get a glass of wine and talk to people.  A subdued sort of 70s palette, vaguely abstract-but-organic shapes. Some sort-of animals. I quite liked the works but I'm not sure I would invite one into  my house. Since Morecroft was a TV host there were lots of television types, so I did some celebrity spotting while staning in the room. I talked with a gallery crawl regular, Keith.

Inside some soft objects. Mounted on walls. Slung across bars of wood. Sitting on the floor like  an old dog. The sun was good, dripping tears in fairy lights. Blink blink blink. Not sure I'd want to have one of these in my home.