Going Sick

I've never been so sick that I couldn't go to work. But today I took a sickie anyway. Instead of heading for the couch, I headed to the Ian Potter Centre. I picked up a guide at the entrance. Fanning through it was like having my head over a bowl of steaming Vicks, as the heady scent of coloured inks cleared my nasal passages. After a glance and a sniff I put it back. Sometimes you don't want to know exactly where you're going.

Each archway I walked through revealed more walls strung with surprises. I was happy to be lead around the walls by the gallery's orienting information cards and way of ordering works by eras, collections and even patrons.

The gallery's collection of Australian works had me experiencing the gamut of emotions and states of being: from feeling young and excited looking at the traditions referenced in the Indigenous gallery to old and sentimental looking at a Walter Burley Griffin's chair that I desperately wanted to sit in. This gallery visit beat watching trashy daytime telly hands-down.

I used the exquisite wooden benches often to rest. They're not as comfortable as my couch, but far better looking. Overall, I felt healthier for not going to work. And for getting out amongst it while most of Melbourne was holed up in an office.

by guest: Liam S