The Sydney sold in tourism ads is one of golden beaches, blue skies and a sparkling harbour. In a series of noirish photographs Christian Ferreiro, a graphic designer, has captured an altogether different place.
Three of our islands exist only in name because they have been sold by mysterious debtors. We demand to know: Where are our islands? And who got the money?
Scruffy Murphy’s is more associated with glassings than gastronomy. As a serious foodie who eats at least three times a day, I’m a little nervous about what the chef will plate up.
A month out from Christmas Santa is at work on the streets of Alexandria trying to illicit a beep from drivers.
Chris Ryan is enchanted by a creature of the not-so-deep in Clovelly.
The RSPCA’s fundraising day was full of good intentions. But Jeremy Chunn found that with thousands of well-fed dogs, the scene soon turned ugly.
A French-born artist’s twenty year devotion to his work has turned a patch of graffiti into a Sydney landmark.
Mitch Marinic, 17, has chased down garbage trucks all over Sydney to film and photograph them, and now he’s working as a garbo. He gives his insights into the city’s dirty secrets.
In the bain-maire at Four Seasons Chicken Spot in Kings Cross, the pickings are slim but fatty.
Perth artist Mike Rigoll finds, “Every truly big city has its own energy: a heady, pulse-quickening verve that can overwhelm or inspire in equal measure.”