cockatoo biennale
My daughter and I took the ferry to Cockatoo island for the biennale one sunny day. On the way over I anticipated a beautiful untouched gem sparkling in the harbour however the island ‘s history had been heavily moulded by man into a functional relic of practicality . What surprised me was the beauty in the little machinery details, the colours that existed in the dark rooms and tunnel passages and the heavy feeling of the island that smelled like oil and the industrial revolution. I was glad I made the journey with my little girl and the biennale’s interesting presentations transformed our trip into a sensual feast.
And then there were the biennale entrants:
