Hobart: art, wildlife and artful food

A tour of the hotel ventured into that past, and into the history of convicts, two of whom had a son who established an extremely successful business making IXL Jam. In 1804 he opened a waterfront factory; in 2004, the factory became the Henry Jones Art Hotel.

Dark wood beams from the original building have been maintained, along with huge blocks of hand-hewn sandstone and even sticky jam stains. It’s also a living gallery. Art hangs in suites and public spaces, including by 19^th century English painter John Glover, who spent many years in Tasmania, plus works by winners of an annual art competition named in his honour.

Creativity thrives in Hobart. The famous Saturday morning Salamanca Market has been held since the 1970s, selling all things handmade and homegrown. Along with jewellery, clothing, glass and ceramics, food stalls wafting enticing smells attract long queues. 

Venturing out of town the next morning, I headed to Brighton. Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary started as a rescue operation for injured native animals and birds, most of whom had been hit by cars or attacked by cats or dogs. Some are treated at the on-site wildlife hospital and released; some can’t leave. I met a bare-nosed wombat called Duey, two short-beaked echidna – one with three legs, the other blind – several rowdy cockatoos, rosellas, gallahs and corellas. The Tasmanian devil gets a bad rap because of the sound it makes, its wide, toothy mouth, its red ears and, well, it looks quite nasty. But it’s also endearing, like a wee bear. It probably goes without saying I also met several kangaroos.

From there, I drove half an hour to New Norfolk, to The Agrarian Kitchen. Within a huge walled garden, once used as an exercise yard for a high-security mental asylum, winter vegetables flourished. Rows of kale, broad beans, Brussels sprouts and leeks grew in bright green stripes; bunches of healthy herbs bordered the paths. Even in the off-season there was a sense of abundance and fecundity within the shelter of the garden’s high walls. I meandered to a glasshouse where I was welcomed through an avenue of plants to a cosy seating area, to be fed a snack of Japanese turnip, snap pea and radish.

In a cavernous, high-ceilinged hall heated by an open fire was the actual restaurant. Before taking my table, I snuck a look at the industrious kitchen where everything – smoked meats and fish, cheeses, pickles, preserves, jellies – is made from locally sourced ingredients, much of it grown in the walled garden. My long lunch was a conveyer belt of surprise. Who thought to perfect caramelised miso or smoked carrot? To serve burrata with fermented lemon, deliver cumquat sorbet, invent boysenberry jelly with woodruff?

The rest of that small town was a bit of a blur after such a lunch. 

My last day in Hobart was dedicated to MONA. The adventure began as I joined the excited queue at Brooke Street Pier for the Mona Roma ferry. On board, the music was intriguing, the décor featured tigers and monkeys, the ‘public safety’ announcements were irreverent.

There was a surreal quality to much of the art. A lot was interactive. Looking inside a huge metal head, I saw mechanical vignettes lit with colour, flitting birds, shifting images. I registered on the MONA app for an experience that had me walk alone into a spiral of darkness, feeling my way, and then ducking through a low door to stand in a ‘confessional’. Way up above me, my head tilted back, I saw daylight. I could hear people up at ground level, and they could hear me. "Sing a song!" someone called down the hole. I did.

Elsewhere, I walked down a corridor filled with discordant organ music. Somewhere else was a room of projected images, flashing light and boxes filled with tiny beads being pulled into patterns by magnets. It seemed to be about data, or perhaps the Higgs boson project. There was a gallery with tanks of sump oil, reflecting the sky, the room, the viewers back and forwards. There was a white library, a full-size military tank made of leather.

There was a lot to see, not all of it nice.  

Sometimes intense, sometimes dangerous, sometimes mischievous, sometimes just fun – MONA doesn’t hold back. Yes, some of the art is confronting. Maybe you need to be in the right mood? I was. It was a real blast and I left feeling energised and fulfilled.