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I first went to the Gallery as a child. There was only a custodian then - no professional staff. My mother was asked by the custodian if she'd like to see their latest acquisition - a Norman Lindsay nude. Us children were left outside his office while Mum went in for a look! Merle
851 days ago
This poem by local poet Barry Breen, will evoke some memories of the beautiful gallery building
The Grand Stairway
My great-grandfather would have said
you could drive a twelve-horse team up those steps
six abreast and room to spare. If
there was reason to. So the stone stairway
between its elaborate art nouveau balustrades
fills with horses now in my imagination
and the paintings above the first landing
are lit with the life of another age —
a bullock cart, bushland, gum trees, cottages,
a man on a grey horse in evening light —
all caught incongruously in gilded frames.
Like a child led by the hand I am brought
upstairs to other worlds, other centuries,
here still to be discovered over and over again.
992 days ago
How important to you is this place?
How important to you are your MEMORIES and EXPERIENCES of this place?
How important to you is this place's PAST?
Are this place's SIGHTS important to you?
Are this place's SMELLS important to you?
Are this place's SOUNDS important to you?
Are this place's TASTES important to you?
Is this place's FEEL important to you?
Are you from this place?