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.
In the bain-maire at Four Seasons Chicken Spot in Kings Cross, the pickings are slim but fatty.
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.
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.”
A tribute to two Sydney surgeons has been molested by people who can’t understand the simple instruction, “Rub my nose.”
Chris Ryan was driving to Wollongong, expecting to see smog rising from steelworks, when instead he was struck by a tall, Oriental-style building rising above the landscape.
If you’ve wasted money visiting Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in LA, it will sting you to find out you could have had the same thrill closer to home.
A picture’s worth a thousand words. Enjoy a roughly-written 5000 word essay on 24-hours in Sydney.
Chris Ryan is enchanted by a creature of the not-so-deep in Clovelly.
How the depressing daily journey into work was made just a little more depressing, so the people of Pine Street could get a good night’s sleep.