After a very early wake-up and then a very awkward change of plans, Martin and I went to see the Chuck Close exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art. It wasn't in our original itinerary but I was so pleased that we ended up going, especially as I'd completely forgotten to include it in our rough Sydney plans. I actually knew very little about Chuck Close and it just so happened to be the exhibition's very last weekend—a fortuitous day indeed.
Martin and I enjoyed the exhibition so much we circled it twice. We savoured every minute detail, and boy, was there detail; the clearly enormous, careful process Chuck Close went through to produce these works was so evident, and I think we can all agree that even at a small size, producing a realistic portrait of someone using only thread, or tiny lines, or tiny little dots of paint, is an astounding feat.