Late last year, I took an overnight trip to Hobart for some volunteering with Road to Refuge running an event with my friend Fadak.
With a late afternoon flight the next day, we had free time in the morning and decided to explore the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA).
MONA strives to be different, from the underground layout to the use of "The O", which are essentially customised art guides to help you experience MONA.
There are no labels at MONA, so in order to find out anything about the artworks you must use "The O". You can choose to read "art wank" about different pieces, and listen to interviews and interpretations from various artists.
The gallery explores mortality, sex, fantasy and what it means to be alive, which is perhaps why it has become appealling to the mainstream.
The first part of MONA focuses on the Zero movement of artists, which used anything and everything to produce movement and a sensory experience to the viewer.
Be prepared to consider how the simplest changes of light, material and perspective can play with your own mind. Is the artwork moving or is it a trick on my eyes? Where is the light source? How did they produce that effect?
My favourite works lay in rooms lurking in the gallery's alcoves hidden behind discrete black curtains often missed by many visitors.
One of MONA's biggest draws is the installation "20:50" by Robert Wilson, which was previously housed in the Saatchi Gallery from 1987-2015 before James Walsh purchased it for MONA.
In a light-filled space, it evokes eeriness; makes you uncomfortable. Its beauty is its sheer ugliness.
Nearby is a playful room which makes you ponder the power of innocence, as children run around jumping on cushioned seats in a bout of fantasy.
As you lie down, you will question what this colourful installation is about. You will hear the darker parts of your mind creep into your head. You will marvel at toddlers, and you will think about what James Walsh has going on in his head.
One of the most photographed works in the gallery is the immersive light tunnel, Beside Myself.
In bougie-MONA style, it leads to a high-end restaurant on the bank of the Derwent river.
It is utterly alluring as you walk through it, but seeing a restaurant on the other side was disappointing.
The White Library, a collection of 6,000 blank books is one of the more underappreciated works in the gallery by visitors.
The scale of the books, the layout of the room and its sterile lighting make this an uncomfortable experience; it makes you think about the meaning of words, aesthetics, knowledge and ideas.
Probably my scariest but also favourite experience at MONA was Kryptos, a dark, concrete chamber labyrinth with binary numbers on the walls and low, sinister voices chanting at you.
Initially I felt watched and vulnerable. And when I crouched through a crevice to reach the centre, I shocked myself. Seconds later, I laughed at my own tomfoolery.
For every pioneering piece such as a drawing machine which draws based on the wind barometer linked to its arm or the great wall of vaginas, there is a disturbing piece like the death room, or humping skeletons, or the poop machine.
MONA is deeply polarising, within my own mind and with the broader Tassie community. It is a unique spectacle.
I think ultimately it is one worth heading to see for yourself for a few hours before the plane ride home.
© 2026 Thomas Feng