After a hot and sticky day scrounging around our little town's wonderful Annual CFA Flea market, jumping on castles, face painting, gathering treasures and questionable objects, we journeyed to the city to explore Melbourne's first ever White Night Festival.
Sometimes Melbourne's big city events can sound better on paper. We have not always had a rollicking good time at Moomba, New Years Eve or Australia Day Festivals. They can be too busy, uneventful, poorly coordinated, oversubscribed, and highly commercial.
Unlike the Melbourne's Southern Star, White Night was no white elephant.
We began our journey as the sun was setting, heading underground down steep stairs into Campbell Arcade.
There were minute spaces to peer inside, small worlds to explore, the middle Bowerbird spied nanoblocks and was hooked. An all night Zine marathon had already begun in earnest at the Sticky Institute.
Kathy Holowko and the beautiful caravan she made in the Atrium. There was already a huge queue to visit Amoment so we peered inside the peep holes, wondered at what was happening inside, chatted and moved on.
As the sun went down Melbourne exploded into a technicolour Moroccan feast. It was joyous to see our otherwise beige and grey buildings lit up so royally.
musical fountain on the Yarra "From the Deep" which we waited patiently, and then a little impatiently for (there is only so long you want to watch fruit bat antics) was divine, and a highlight for the children, "mum its incredible, its like a squid, like a tentacle".
The only unpleasant part of the evening was battling the 300,000 strong crowd to get to the Arts Centre, some people can be so incredibly pushy shovey and it became a scary space to navigate three children safely through. Amazingly the little Bowerbird went from being thoroughly animated and excited, to asleep in our arms as we passed the Spiegeltent.
I was so relieved to lay the little Bowerbird's heavy body down on the floor of the NGV's Great Hall as we watched foam dance and pour. Art gazers could not resist the urge to lift the security rope to touch the foam and launch it flying through the air. The gallery has never felt so busy or laid back, people were sprawled over the entrance floor doing graffiti. The atmosphere in the Great Hall was electric, like we were part of something special. I must confess we didn't leave without feeling a little foam, such a tactile sculpture, who could resist? I hope French artist, Michel Blazy didn't mind us touching his work.