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?
On a narrow street in Newtown a giant dog towers above the traffic. Passers-by double take at the massive sculpture. Cars slow down as they pass the trailer it sits on, and come to a stop as drivers stare.
Joseph has the Wednesday evening commuters bouncing to a reggae beat.
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.
Scruffy Murphy’s is not just home to cheap schnitzel and discount jugs of beer. On Wednesday nights it adds a touch of glamour as it hosts Drag Queen Karaoke.
“What is that thing?… And what’s that smell?” Anyone who’s spent enough time in North Bondi for the wind to change direction will have heard a visitor ask such questions.
A French-born artist’s twenty year devotion to his work has turned a patch of graffiti into a Sydney landmark.