As I left the Museum of Old and New Art’s latest exhibition Namedropping, and for many days after, I was troubled by a question I have never asked myself: am I being uncharitable to a millionaire? I think Mona, the boldly iconoclastic museum perched on Hobart’s waterfront, is a good thing in the world. I like that David Walsh, Mona’s creator-owner and a professional gambler, spent so much of his wealth on something that can be enjoyed and whinged about by everyone. I like that it houses solemn, challenging and controversial works, and a machine that poos every day at 2pm. I like that it kicked some stuffy galleries and art critics up the shibboleth.
One of the first things you see as you walk into Namedropping is the bonnet of a black 1977 Holden Torana. The handsome beast is displayed inside a man cave, complete with a nudie calendar and Walsh’s shiny Order of Australia on the wall nearby. According to Mona’s own description, this Torana “makes the point about namedropping and status better than most of the art in this exhibition”. Walsh has previously likened Mona to “a hotted-up Torana” in that it has “acted as a lure for me to bang above my weight”. If I can assure you of anything, you don’t emerge from Namedropping wanting to bang David Walsh.
