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.
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.
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.”
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.
Sydney Outsider’s Tom Collins gets on the sauce at the source.
“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.
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.
A month out from Christmas Santa is at work on the streets of Alexandria trying to illicit a beep from drivers.
We speak to Lyndal Irons about her photographic exhibition documenting the final days of Petersham’s iconic Oxford Tavern.