Colour Power and Power Games in Wollongong

To the Wollongong City Gallery (WCG) this Saturday past to see the NGV touring exhibition Colour Power, Aboriginal art post 1984, curated by Judith Ryan. The WCG selection appears to be a drastically cut-down version of the original NGV show (judging by the NGV website - the catalogue was unavailable). The survey show looks at the impact of synthetic colour (acrylics) on Aboriginal art, covering most regions, the premise is a good and interesting one, and the work is well hung in a single room with mezzanine balcony - by far the best room in a somewhat dispiriting gallery.

Certainly the gallery Director, Peter O'Neill, made it a dispiriting occasion. I was a guest of an advisor to the AGNSW Aboriginal Collection Benefactors Group - a distinguished and fairly knowledgeable assembly of 15 or so people who had traveled down from Sydney to view the show and hear a talk by the Director on WCG's own Indigenous collection. Possibly because Herr Direktor was forgoing Saturday with his family, perhaps because he thought the visitation from Sydney needed a lesson in arrogance, or maybe because he simply dislikes people not from Wollongong - from the moment of greeting he had "... resentment tucked into his waistband like a 38", to borrow a phrase from Tom Wolfe.

In short order he favoured us with his distaste for Art Express (the HSC student show), Hazelhurst Regional Gallery, the "oddly named NGV" and its inability to supply a catalogue for his show, the fact that he was "neither an expert, nor a scholar, nor a curator", and his view that the fortunate citizens of Wollongong had an immeasurably better cultural life than those in Sydney, having his gallery of course, and their "own newspaper", an apparent reference to that beacon of enlightenment, The Illawarra Mercury.

It would have been quite funny, if it hadn't been delivered with scarcely-veiled animosity towards his guests. Having raised everyone's hackles, he then abdicated from talking about the exhibition, saying "perhaps some of you would like to talk about it".

"It's going to be a delightful day", I thought to myself.

In fact it did get better - marginally. As the afternoon wore on and the prospect of escape neared, he seemed to be making an effort to be pleasant, with mixed results. His slide show was of interest, and though the locally collected work was pretty ordinary, he spoke well about it. The visit ended with a trip to the storeroom to look at the permanent Indigenous collection usurped from the walls by the much-resented Art Express. Except that he didn't really get anything out, except a fake Clifford Possum, despite being asked about the Rover Thomas in the collection. I was glad to escape.

The gallery building is, I gather, an old council headquarters, so has some natural disadvantages as an art gallery, but it feels threadbare, dusty, neglected, gloomy... dispiriting, as I said at the outset. There is a marvelous terrace on the top level, where there could be a great café and bookshop for instance. Perhaps the place is short of funds or, more likely in my view, its Director lost interest long ago, and is serving out his time until retirement. That's what it feels like, and if so, the citizens of Wollongong are being ill-served and deserve better, just as they no doubt deserve a better newspaper.

Pip-pip.