Days are getting shorter (false), trees are changing colour (in full bloom), and there’s a chill in the air (depends on the day: it is Melbourne). Lies though these all may be, down Tyler Street in Preston there’s an art exhibition that could convince you it just might be true. With just eight artists in the show, this exhibition takes up the interior window space of Video Days, a vintage movie store trading in nostalgia. 

I ducked out of the rain earlier this week to check out Holly Goodridge’s The Shape of Rest at Mailbox Art Space. The show fills nineteen repurposed wooden mailboxes in the foyer of Pawson House on Flinders Lane in Melbourne’s CBD. Mailbox Art Space is a hidden secret for those who know about it, and I love being able to share it with friends who would otherwise walk past the unassuming building. I’ve written about Goodridge’s work previously, as part of the Convergence group show at Blindside and I’m so glad to be able to revisit her work in a place where it’s not competing for space against the rest of a student exhibition.

Personally, I’ve been a longtime Hillvale Photo fan. I've been dropping my film to be developed by the team there for years - since they had a lil’ tiny shop on a slightly different Brunswick back street from where they now operate their much larger lab and gallery. The Photo Trophy is Hillvale’s annual photography competition, where they print and display all entries in a salon style hang that completely fills the walls of their gallery space. There’s something to be said for a gallery that only showcases one particular art form, and especially photography, which so often gets overlooked in group shows.

This is my first time writing a review for a show, thank god its someone I know! Harmonising With My Kitchen Fan is a group show curated by Iona Mackenzie, featuring herself, Madeleine Minack, and Hayley Does at Oddany Gallery in Brunswick. I always love coming into Oddany, I love the drapes, high ceilings and candles scattered about, it is a character in its own right.

Amanda Western’s Ways Through opens with an explanation of the linocut process, with her tools on a plinth, arming you with the knowledge that each print on show is the result of years of practice, and dozens of hours of painstaking carving. After that, you immediately encounter  the block and artist print for her Country Lane work. Between the size and the detail, it’s an apt greeting to an exhibition that runs the gamut of print sizing and detail, and a warm welcome to a show about the quiet moments and everyday places.

87 artists would be an ambitious group show for a large gallery. Even in an airy space like No Vacancy it felt overwhelming at points- with the sheer mass of the crowd for the opening I had to return the next day to get a full grasp of the show (and to take it in, while not covered in red wine). Wine-gate occurred right in the middle of the speeches announcing the winner, and was so obvious that I was recognised at the very next opening I went to as the girl who wore the wine at No Vacancy (I am so sorry to the bartender for bringing this up, it could have happened to anyone). After dropping my pants off at the dry cleaners, I returned to the scene of the crime to find out who actually won. The winning work, Horse Shell Tell Tale by Natalie Bessell won a solo show in the gallery space. Ruby Archer’s intimate oil on pine work Drive got the honourable mention.

Mary Cherry Contemporary is my pick for best named gallery in Melbourne. It’s just fun to say. Currently on at the Collingwood space is Jen Valender’s solo show Null is Not an Object. The exhibition feels intimate and meticulous, each work key in telling a wider story. It’s an homage to Valender’s early job as a cinema projectionist- a return to working intimately with celluloid film.

Curated by British born RMIT lecturer Jennifer Conroy Smith, Sensory Clay does not break boundaries as a group show, but does showcase promising artists from RMIT’s talent pool. On the whole, I found the show exciting. Ceramics is an under-represented field, but something I find is gaining more and more traction as emerging artists gain support. In particular, artists playing with form and blurring the barriers of materiality will be my enduring memory of this show.

In the nook of First Site is Xinshuo Zhuo’s Unnatured. Presented alongside three other exhibitions, Zhuo’s is the quietest. The works did not strike me at first sight, it was only in sitting with them- getting closer and truly taking my time that the detail and nuance struck me. Going back through them, finding the motifs (the butterflies, the obscured sun, the faceless woman, the hair) I wanted more. What Zhuo captures with analogue photography feels like nothing that could be imitated with modern means. There is a delicacy to the exhibition. 

When I think of rockpools I often reflect on the otherworldly dwellings in the shallows that emerge only as the waves roll out to sea and the tide is low. On entering Yindjibarndi artist, Katie West’s exhibition at Westspace, ‘Rockpools’, I was welcomed with the comforting and familiar sound of water and waves, nostalgic of summer afternoons on the coast. On further inspection, the sounds of water were transmitted through radios with antennas drawn, placed structurally on metal beams and grates, representing West’s own interpretation of a rockpool. Sparked with curiosity I wanted to understand how such a manmade structure could be reflective of a naturally created rockpool, especially, when I had such a literal representation in my own mind. West challenges this expected visual, reflecting the ‘detritus of colonisation’ with scavenged objects from tip shops in Karratha on Ngarluma Ngurra (Country) and in Noongar Ballardong Boodja (Country) to build her own rockpools.

A collaboration between Unassigned Gallery and Changing Room Gallery, SKETCHBOOK is ambitious, with this edition featuring over 40 artists. Lining the walls and multiple tables, the books run the gamut of artistic practice, stretching the limits of what a sketchbook is and can be. They are insights into how people see the world, and everything they encounter from the everyday to the imaginary. 

If anything, right now feels like a necessary moment for abstraction. It’s certainly the art I turn to time and again when I feel like I need something, anything to get lost in. We are grappling with a ruptured world- social media that goes from AI cat videos, to the destruction of Gaza, to the end stage capitalism of Labubus. None of it feels real or tangible or sensical. Abstraction has always emerged when the world ceased to be as knowable as it once was. Currently at SOL Gallery is Abstract Artists Never Sleep. Featuring 14 artists from the Hawthorn Artist Society, the group touts itself as an “untutored abstract art group.” Any exhibition blurb for an abstract show invariably contains some amalgamation of the words expressive, gesture, and dynamic - this one is no different. The best abstractions are the ones that draw you in and keep you looking, making you feel like if you just got a little bit closer, you’ll finally find exactly what you’ve been looking for. I connected deeply with some of the artists in a way I didn’t necessarily expect for a sunny afternoon in Fitzroy.

There’s something so captivating about small works, almost like you could reach out and hold the entire universe in your hands (please do not use this as an excuse to touch the artworks). In Beinart Gallery, tucked in the last room on the left, you’ll find 20 such works ready to take you to different worlds. English artist Caroline Dewison’s A Fantastic Journey presents 20 dioramas, five of which are automata. The whimsical art leans towards the weird in the best way, with each of these scenes fit for a fairy instead home to UFOs, leading you to wonder what’s really going on. 

The first thing I heard walking into 45 Flinders Lane was “I loved the cockroach.” Immediately I was intrigued. The aforementioned cockroach (Jent Do’s The Sacred Cockroach) is just one work among many in the tenth edition of fortyfivedownstairs’ Emerging Artist Awards. The award, this year judged by Anthony White, showcases a well honed selection of early career artists across all mediums. The opening was packed, with attendees waiting to hear who would be awarded the $3000 prize pool.

I would argue that absolutely miserable weather (read: Melbourne Winter) is the best time to go see some art. This is only made better by being combined with a good cappuccino. Currently greeting you outside No Vacancy in the CBD is Lea Thompson’s Romance triptych- an ethereal, floral abstract work that invites you into the warmth and calm that is Thompson’s current exhibition. Une Vie Romantique is a 19 work exhibition of abstracted landscapes “exploring the soft space between memory and perception.” The exhibition is near antithetical to the Melbourne winter, full of soft colours and warmth that for the time I spent perusing the works and drinking a cappuccino, made me forget about the torrential rain outside while encompassed in the soft colours of Thompson’s romantic view of life.

Unassigned Gallery was wall to wall when I visited the opening of The Q Files: The Queer Is Out There on Saturday. It was totally packed, shoulder to shoulder, cannot take a step kinda busy. It was so busy that my friend and I could barely get in the door when we arrived and had to take a lap of Sydney road, get some dinner and a drink, and then circle back later to even be able to get inside and see the walls. It’s wonderful to see such an amazing turn out and a great show of community, for such a community driven show. There were DJs, drag, and even a food truck out the front for this opening party. And of course they kicked on at iconic lesbian bar Flippy’s. It really felt like a party and a celebration of all the work that goes into an exhibition like this, for both the artists and the curators. Queer Love Collective, run by Ruby Vaggelas and Madi Sherburn, focuses on creating inclusive local exhibitions at LGBTQIA+ venues for queer creatives. They seem to have a lovely relationship with gallerist Nour Abdullatif, who runs the space. Organising an open call show is certainly hard work, and Queer Love Collective (QLC) and Unassigned have certainly pulled it off!

Shannon Syme’s installation draws you in through SOL Gallery’s window, promising warmth as a reprieve from the cold. Taking up the first room of SOL Gallery’s to-hire space, Syme uses drawing and installation to explore her relationship with the world that surrounds her. At the back in the second space is Carlo Pagoda’s Circo Cristiano exhibition which conflates the magic of the circus with the mystic nature of Catholicism. These are two solo shows with little in common with each other except sharing the gallery, which isn’t a bad thing!! I really enjoyed the juxtaposition of the overwhelming installation in Syme’s rooms and the reverent refined work of Pagoda’s in the back.

Convergence: A Spatial Negotiation at Blindside brings together 23 masters students from RMIT across Arts Management, Fine Art, and Photography. It certainly is a spatial negotiation to fit the work of 15 artists into one room of the gallery, and even more of a spatial negotiation to fit their friends and family in for the opening I attended last night.

I’ve written about it before, but I am obsessed with the currently popular style of painting that views things softly, holding them in a blurry state of flux. But this isn’t to say that Melissa is doing what everyone else is doing!! Nguyen has a distinct style and voice in her paintings. From the neon Con Chó (Không Mèo) that greets you at the door, to the body of work around the corner in the main gallery space. Utilising a limited palette that blends into itself, each work becomes even more definite through colour. Hung together, Makamp and Vải Lanh, create a nostalgic and fragmented dialogue with each other. It reminds me of seeing my dad standing in his garden - the light filtering through the leaves, the ground soft beneath our collective feet, a memory hazy through time.  And Pokémon will always remind me of my childhood; playing on the Gameboy with my brother until it was too dark to see the screen anymore - I always picked Charmander as my starter. Reliving memories of the past can fragment them - replaying something and copying it in turn then creates something new.

Wunderkammer, literally translated from German means ‘wonder chamber’ or ‘room of wonders’. The term refers to cabinets of curiosities, collections of oddities and treasures, even royal collections of jewellery or similarly prized possessions. Which is exactly what Ivana Lilith has transformed Mailbox Art Space into. The nineteen wooden mailboxes are reflective of old school museum display cases: little vitrines to house precious treasures safe behind their glass. On first impression Lilith’s ceramic sculptures, her ‘oddities’, are delicate and feminine, being protected in their display cases. White and pink, with horses, swans, lilies, boobs and feminine curves being the first things you see. But when looking closer, this initial softness subsides - you see the hands ripping to open the chests of their headless figures. These are distorted, stretching, contorted humanoid creatures, some headless, others with devilish horns.