With hundreds of others, I stood at the entrance of the Sydney Contemporary Art Fair last Wednesday, at the conclusion of the VIP preview, watching the rain pour down in torrents. Were the angry Gods passing judgement on this year’s offerings? We can go a long time without rain in Sydney, but when it arrives, it comes down like a tsunami.
This city is like the grasshopper in Aesop’s fable, utterly devoted to its pleasures, never imagining the good times won’t go on forever. In our complacent way, we hardly notice what the weather bureau tells us: that we’ve had a record year for rainfall, and there’s more on the way. The day of the SCAF preview was declared the wettest September day since 1879!
Perhaps the bonhomie is finally starting to fade. The rain may have a depressing effect on attendances at the fair, but it also feels like a metaphor for an atmosphere of gloom settling over the state’s cultural landscape, creating unease in both the public and private sectors.