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Toucan Cafe, Glebe and the squats of Darlo
Sydney, 1982

Picture
Entry was through this gate down a side passage
Arriving in Sydney after 4 years away at Art School was awesome. My friend Yianni Maroulis (whose name in English is John Lettuce) had asked me to take over his cabaret cafe in Glebe for a year while he took a well earned rest. The Toucan, well located on Glebe Point Rd, a stone's throw from Sydney University was, for a time, an exciting live venue for experimental theatre, poetry, music and cabaret. By the time I arrived in the summer of 1982 it was getting a worn, slightly dated vibe in it's styling and general appearance. The performances where still very much alive and available to all levels of amateurism and unabashed confidence. The in-house piano player, Boris, played the evening in with an eclectic mix of improvised ramblings and half remembered, partially recognisable classics put through his own special filter.

After a month or so, Yianni left me to it and I set to work to add my imagination to the mix. Friends I had quickly accumulated or resurrected came to help with the transformation. The dilapitated, slightly bent metal awning was stripped off the facade and my dear artist friend, Mike Bell arrived from Newcastle with his visions scribbled carefully onto large bits of cartridge with notes and arrows detailing colours and special features. He was a devotee of the new sense of naivety and post punk that the new decade had welcomed in. The concept of kitsche became elevated to high art. The icons of Australiana were venerated as tokens of a new visual language. Luna Park, with it's giant face grinning  across the Harbour, had been a well spring for the Sydney artist Martin Sharpe with it's circus inspired imagery. Martin had helped establish the famed "Yellow House" as an artists' gallery and declaration of new directions for a new generation: the 60's groovers who had now come of age and were looking to revolutionary ideas to unset the old guard. Mike Bell was like a protege taking up this baten and I let him have the Toucan's facade as his canvas. We had after all just a few months before graduated from art school together and I had purchased his painting of a circus laughing clown amusement - you know, the ones whose mouths you pop ping pong balls into to win prizes. Mike's clown had a face contorted into Edvard Munch's "Scream" painting. It now hung proudly inside the Toucan's walls.

The facade of the Toucan and the decorations inside were transformed to connect with this new groove. Colours were strong, vibrant and joyful. A large family of Toucan birds flew in formation across the front, adorning the facade in mimicry of the flying ducks found in homes across the country, homes reinvented in the post war energy of new appliances, while our Toucans flew into a post modernist world of political cynicism buttered by the nostalgia of a collective perfect youth. 

check out some more pics..


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Detail of Mike Bell's art work on the facade
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Glad Bag's interpretation of the Toucan
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Dougie, Gladi Bag, Alky, Bizi Bodi, Karol and DB
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Dougie, Alky and Davey
Karol, my sweet young girlfriend who I had lived with in Newcastle was living in one of the squats in Darlinghurst. It was one of a group of Victorian terraces ear marked for destruction to make way for an extension of the Cahill Expressway linking to the airport. An old school buddy of mine, Dave Baby or DB as he was conveniently known, was also in the area living in a deserted pub. He had matured amazingly since I had seen him while away in Newcastle for 4 years. I knew him as one of the cheeky lads at school always looking for a lark, an escape, a game of cricket or footy. He had become a beautiful man with a beautiful mind surrounding himself with like minded people and embracing the hunt for the new. He had formed a band called "Just A Drummer" which had morphed into another band, "The Minor Fits", I think. Things moved fast. Ideas flew around, feminism was re forming all our ways of thinking. Political correctness was at it's peak. Slightly uncomfortable for me as an inherent anarchist suspicious of ideas that inspired fanatical support. Ah what the heck, we were having fun - lot's of it!

© Alky Avramides, all rights reserved 2016
al@hotdraw.com.au                                  home contact

Alkiviadis son of Theofilos son of Michali son of Arvalas