Day 1: In the super high tech Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) in Hobart I saw some disturbing modern art. Works by Wim Delvoye were particularly squirm-inducing. It was great!
Day 2: After wandering through some of the ruined buildings in Port Arthur, the site of a penal colony renowned for the horrific conditions in which the prisoners were kept, I went for a boat tour round the harbour. The guide pointed out that due south there was nothing but sea until the Antarctica and this might be the furthest south any most of us would ever come in our lifetimes. This got me wondering where is the furthest north I've been in my life? The highest altitude? And how could I depict this in an artwork? It must have been visiting the MONA yesterday that got me thinking that way.
On our first night we left the main road and drove down a dirt track in search of a place to camp. We pitched our tent next to an abandoned warehouse with a sign outside saying "Keep Out! Quarantine Area". The corrugated metal panels on the roof clattered in the wind. In the last stretch of daylight we walked to a nearby deserted beach. I counted four carcasses of small sharks, the flesh picked from their back bone but the heads still intact. It was an eerie place to be.