With Darren Jorgensen, Aimee Dodds, and Sam Beard.

As the year draws to a close, Dispatch Review gathered some reflections from Darren Jorgensen, Aimee Dodds, and Sam Beard.

What was the highlight of 2025?

Amelia Birch winning the best thesis at the Art Association of Australia and New Zealand (AAANZ) conference in early December. Amelia did a ripper thesis on the UnAustralian artist Agnes Goodsir who fled to lesbian Paris to live with her partner during the 1920s. Who knew portraits could be interesting? Also papers at the AAANZ on communist art history (Are we all Cubans in spirit, Tara Heffernan?), Australian landscape paintings inspired by views of Palestine (Was Namatjira painting war crimes, Suzannah Henty? Did the desert speak to him in Hebrew?), and art populism (Is Richard Bell a demagogue, Chelsea Hopper, or just a Warhammer figurine?).

The show of the year was definitely Nan Goldin: The ballad of sexual dependency at JCG—powerful, deeply moving, and hugely important. Followed by the Know My Name exhibition at LWAG, which featured many brilliant and groundbreaking works by Australian greats. Not to get political but both  were touring initiatives by the NGA, held at university campus galleries.

William St Shopping Centre: the local source of soy products, herbal remedies, sloppy bone broth noodles, Chinese hemorrhoid treatments, precarious hot pot, and, since July this year, Perth’s latest contemporary gallery, ____.g.s (commonly “underscore”, sometimes “gee ess”). In a few short months ____.g.s has mounted three exhibitions, a film screening, several experimental music events, and performances from the likes of Lucas Abela and Ryosuke Kiyasu. Having shaken off any notion that it is a fly-by-night project, the “men-in-black” behind ____.g.s have swiftly demonstrated a seriousness and focus that has outlined its vision without the need for a “launch” event or lofty media statement. Among Perth’s independent galleries and project spaces that tirelessly sustain and reassert the joys of contemporary art, ____.g.s has quickly proven to be a legitimate peer.

What was the lowlight of 2025?

Sculpture by the Sea not running in 2025. This is where weirdo sculptors who have been working on some contraption have a chance to get it out of their backyards and far from their neighbour's eyesight. It's also where school kids from Armadale who have never seen a work of art get to come in a bus for the day to meet artists and build things with sticks. It's the great leveller of the Perth artworld.

Even for a “collection display”, Everyday Myths and Legends at JCG was a total flop. It featured a handful of decent local artists whose works were good-to-okay, but were presented without any coherent narrative. I was unable to decode the material, aesthetic or theoretical links tying this odd selection together - there was very little in the works and their placements connecting them to each other, or the scope of ideas and themes suggested by the title. Disappointing!

A pretty dreary year from PICA. While there have been a couple of notable shows and individual artworks—overall, the year has been sombre, lean, and interrupted. Yet, the energy seems to be picking up with the promise of an inaugural air conditioning system! However, for fresh ventilation to be the most exciting installation this year at PICA speaks volumes. Hopefully the cooler atmosphere will boost morale, and past glories/new aspirations are yet to be forecast…

Honourable mention for 2025?

If you hadn't caught up yet, photography is the new painting. We want photos. Pinned and framed, big and small, hung high and low. Sam Contis: Moving Landscape at the Art Gallery of Western Australia, curated by expatriate Perthite Anna Kesson, opened a window onto the obsessive world of photographers who take a lot of time just to get the right picture. Immersing herself for years in communities of horse breakers and schoolgirls, Contis got the kind of intimacy required to capture those vulnerable, heroic moments that reach out and create a relationship with us, the viewers.

____g.s. making its debut. More, please!

The AAANZ Unruly Objects conference at UWA brought a gaggle of esteemed bigwigs to Perth, who not only loitered around the lecture theatres of UWA, but also visited Light Works, ____.g.s, and PICA (it seems AGWA didn’t check their emails?). Often, the value of conferences is varied and individually driven—in some respects much like art fairs—yet they also represent an opportunity to show off a place, its scene, and its discourse. From what I can tell, Unruly Objectssucceeded. Perhaps some of the visitors might even write about their observations of Perth?

Dishonorable mention for 2025?

Balancing Act at AGWA, the collection show of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander art on the ground floor, has been there so long I can’t remember a time before it. I know it's for the tourists. The tourists want dot painting. They want to see the local culture. They ask for it at the front desk. But Aboriginal art belongs to the twentieth century. It's a ghetto made into a palace. AGWA, your moral purpose is to educate the public. To mix it up. Don’t give them what they ask for. Give them something they haven't seen before. And give the artists somewhere to show that doesn’t tie them down to their race or their history. A gallery is not a museum.

Sculpture by the Sea's “help me I'm poor” funding model.

While ____.g.s started with a show, Vessel launched with a powerpoint. These are two very different projects, with different intentions, to be sure—not to mention what must be more  significant overheads for Vessel and their need to justify KPIs to a board. Yet, the comparison puts into stark clarity just how much richer a gallery can be for dispensing with lofty models for a leaner, more focused approach to the work. Vessel’s inaugural year has included workshops, film screenings, the Young Boy Dancing Group, and one exhibition from Gian Manik and another from duo Hylozoic/Desires (Himali Singh Soin & David Soin Tappeser) organised in-part by the Fremantle Biennale. With their grand fundraising appeals and crypto investment, hopefully 2026 will promise less promo and more exhibitions.

New Year’s art resolutions?

There are shows being censored, as we speak, because of the conflict in Gaza. Thanks to bureaucrats with fancy letterhead who know how to use it. Thanks to you online trolls who make curators nervous of offending anybody. Palestinians. The Palestinian cause. Israelis. The Jews. The Chinese government. The Chinese community. The Israeli backpacker you had a fling with, and remain close on Facebook. The Palestinian guy who drove your Uber. People who don’t like nudism. People who don't like children in galleries. Curators, stop hiding behind your collections and install talk. Ban the children. Ban the Chinese. Show us the emails demanding you don't show this or that. Fuck you all, you censorius fucks, but bring it on and make it public, so we know where we all stand.

Galleries, institutions, art dealers and the like returning to free printed paper programs, catalogues, posters, and fliers. Print and/or post it, or perish. Remember free front desk stickers?

Quality over quantity. If 2025 has proven anything in the Perth art world, it is that we do not need more, but simply better. Two shows that come to mind—albeit for two very different reasons—that have demonstrated the significance of well-planned, well-researched, and thoughtfully conceived exhibitions are Mervyn Street: Stolen Wages and Objet d’Art – Theo Koning and his Creative Self, both held this year at the newly rebranded Walyalup Fremantle Arts Centre. Both exhibitions presented focused surveys of two West Australian artists duly deserving of such attention. The Mervyn Streetexhibition offered visitors a singular insight into the artist’s life, ambitions, and artistic vision. In other words, it was hard to leave the show without feeling as though one had a clear sense of where this work came from, what it was about, and what value it has—it wasn’t too cluttered (though perhaps a bit over the top in places, with its bright yellow feature walls) or overly didactic. Street’s work could be enjoyed both for its own merit and as a window through which to gain insight into the experiences that preceded and informed it. The Theo Koning exhibition was a completist’s affair—seemingly including every available work to such a degree that, after a while, and with such immense variety, one loses track of what is going on. After a brisk visit to the show, you leave knowing Koning must have had a tremendous amount of fun—and a great shed. Yet, with a less-is-more approach, particularly great works would have had the opportunity to stand alone with greater monumentality. Perhaps in these two exhibitions, we might see what is needed most in 2026. Rather than “everything everywhere all at once”, this might be a year where we need a little more of “one thing, well considered, thoughtfully presented”.