Artist/Gallery notes

The man in the dark grey suit stands by the window rubbing his hands in warm congratulation. Outside the great canyon of St Georges Terrace yawns across the layered sediments of investment. Once intimate, homely and shy, now the City exalts its wealth in a great cream and ice confection of Mammon Cake. The Banker reflects on the years of empty bill boarded, graffiti covered sites; the cavernous holes, footprints of the giants; the ungainly cranes towering over the City in gawking flocks, fishing the shallow waters of the Terrace; the monuments to boundless confidence sculpted in concrete, steel and endless glass; the empty offices, now recovering as the tide of money continues its restless ebb and flow. But there is always a buck to be made out of change, You can see Rottnest from here, The Merc is parked underneath to take me home in comfort and who cares about the windy, shadowed, soulless, existence on the streets far below, for this is Perth, the greatest city in the West!