Every year, in the depth of winter, Hobart shrugs off its sleepy charm and embraces a darker, more primal energy. This is Dark Mofo, the Museum of Old and New Art’s (MONA) annual winter festival, a phenomenon that has become a pilgrimage for those seeking art, music, and ritual in the longest nights of the year. It’s a festival that feels less like an event imposed upon a city and more like an extension of its soul. The colonial sandstone, the brooding presence of kunanyi/Mount Wellington, and the biting southerly winds all become part of the stage. Returning for the King’s Birthday long weekend, I was ready to once again descend into its beautiful, challenging, and dark embrace.
Our first encounter with the festival was Crash Bodies by renowned performance artist, Paula Garcia. As people who have experienced our fair share of provocative art, we thought we were prepared for anything Dark Mofo could throw at us. Our first major event was a spectacle set against the dramatic backdrop of the River Derwent at dusk. The setup was deceptively simple: two brand-new, expensive Audis faced each other under stark floodlights. There was no announcement, just a growing sense of dread and anticipation from the crowd gathered by the water’s edge. Then, with a sudden, deafening roar, the cars accelerated directly into one another. The collision was a brutal, instantaneous explosion of twisted metal, and shattered glass. It was over in a second. It was a stark and jarring statement on consumerism, waste, and the shocking beauty of destruction—a powerful, unsettling, and unforgettable start to our weekend.
With the profound echoes of Crash Bodies still resonating, we sought the communal warmth that is equally central to the Dark Mofo experience. We joined the throng at Dark Park, a sprawling outdoor art playground, sharing mulled ciders with friends under the eerie glow of large-scale installations. From there, it was a natural procession to the legendary Winter Feast. The air, thick with the scent of woodsmoke and a smorgasbord of food. Huddled around firepits that roar like pagans, we ate, drank, and soaked in the carnivalesque atmosphere. Our night concluded with a nightcap at The Hanging Garden.
One of the true joys of Dark Mofo is the city of Hobart itself. The day after our bacchanalian feast, we allowed ourselves to simply wander. The festival’s energy permeates every street, but the city’s own charms are a crucial part of the experience. We found ourselves, as if by instinct, at the Retro Cafe in Salamanca Place. A haunt from my youth, its familiar comfort and excellent coffee provided a moment of quiet reflection, a grounding point amidst the weekend’s sensory overload.
That evening, we took our seats in the magnificent Theatre Royal, Australia’s oldest working theatre, for Void by the confrontational artist Joshua Serafin. The stage was bare. A lone, naked man—Serafin himself, a queer Filipino artist—stood defiantly in the centre, his body tense with a palpable anger. He began to move, his actions sharp and aggressive, as he flung a thick, black, oil-like substance across the stage, onto the walls, and over his own body. Each violent splash and visceral smear felt like an act of rebellion and catharsis. The performance was a primal scream made visual, a messy, unapologetic, and powerful expression of rage and identity that left the audience stunned into silence.
This year, we added a special pilgrimage to our itinerary. We drove north from Hobart, taking the magnificent Lake Highway through the heart of the Central Highlands to my hometown of Ulverstone on the northwest coast. The journey itself, through a landscape of stark, wintry beauty, felt like a fitting transition.
Our destination was the Planitarium to see XYZZY by artists Jess Johnson and Simon Ward. The work’s title references the magic word from the classic adventure game ‘Colossal Cave Adventure’, and what we witnessed was pure magic. Inside the darkened dome, the artists had created a vast, intricate web of electroluminescent wire. The installation pulsed with gentle, geometric light, creating a mesmerising, immersive universe that was both architectural and ethereal. The aim was to create a dialogue between physical and virtual space, drawing on the nostalgia of early computer graphics while creating a futuristic, contemplative environment. Lying back and gazing up into this silent, glowing cosmos was a profoundly peaceful and beautiful experience, a perfect, quiet end to a weekend dedicated to finding light in the darkness.
This post was created with the assistance of AI, particularly the canvas function in Gemini 2.5 (preview) and my notes
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