Freo 3 – Floggings and more modern art (give me the flogging any day)

After the gruesomeness of many of the exhibits at the Maritime Museum yesterday I was surprised when Fo readily agreed to visit Fremantle Prison today. She's usually got a very low tolerance for things like this; a game bird to the last.

Prison main building

The building dates from the 1850s and was built by the first tranche of convict labour to arrive in Western Australia. The first settlement of any note in the area probably dates to around 1829 and the early settlers (largely British) tried initially to build their own infrastructure. It took them around 20 years to realise that this wasn't going to happen quickly enough so they petitioned the British Government to send some convicts. Prisoner labour was cheap, other than the cost of food, and they could be forced into doing all of the unpleasant, dangerous and manual labour that nobody else wanted to do.

Suicide jumps from the top floor were common, hence the
net. It wasn't erected to save those jumping (it's a reinforced
steel mesh), it merely prevented injury to any guards
on the ground

For the first 20 years the building was used solely for convict labour. During this period some 10,000 transported convicts, mainly men, passed through its doors. By 1890 fewer than 60 remained incarcerated. As Freo grew though, and a gold rush developed in the 1890s, so did the need for a traditional prison to house locally grown criminal talent. And thus it stayed until its closure in 1998.

Our tour took in many of the prison highlights, including the open plan showers, the slop chute, solitary confinement, the flogging post and the hanging room. 

When will learn to keep my mouth shut?

Our guide, forthright and incongruously cheerful most of the time, was a mine of information as he described what must have been a harsh and unforgiving place in its day. I was also amazed that, for such an old building, it was still in use until late in the 20th century. And the use of convict labour continued for much of this time too, although latterly with a nominal wage attached.

Overall the prison was undeniably fascinating, but it certainly dragged down our mood. Keen to lift our spirits we headed subsequently for the Fremantle Arts Centre. It's housed in what used to be an asylum, though to be honest I am not sure that the current occupants have an entirely solid grasp on reality. 

The execution room. We thought we were the only
ones in the room.

I'd barely stepped through the door when my arts defence perimeter was holed and sunk without a trace by 'She explores ideas of architectural space, the public realm and spatial history. Through the analysis of socio-architectural interactions and the materiality of architectural space, her work describes places of transit and dysfunction.' Thank heavens for my Ipod, Chris Rea and a nearby shady bench. Fo, of course, loved it. Much as she did the Van Gogh, Dalí and Beyond exhibition running currently at the Museum of Modern Art in Perth, though she wisely left me at home for that one.

My refuge from modern art.

On our last full day I felt compelled, strangely, to accompany Fo on a visit to Fremantle Market. As many of you will know, I like markets about as much as modern art galleries. However, I must confess, I actually enjoyed this one. There was something of a carnival atmosphere about it and plenty of opportunity to indulge in those great Aussie passions, music, coffee and beer. I even bought something and that's rare!

After the markets we fell into the Norfolk Hotel for a well-earned sundowner glass of bubbles. Lonely Planet describes the garden area as “wonderfully soporific in the afternoon”. Well, it wasn't today. Transatlantic rock was blaring out and there was not a single part of this enormous bar and garden complex that could be isolated from it. It dawned on me then that just about every eatery we have visited in Oz has piped music playing, and in most cases far too loudly. Yes, I know, grumpy old git moment. But come on Australia, not all of your pub and bar customers are aged under 30 so for Pete's sake (and mine) turn it off (or at least down) occasionally.

Our time in Freo disappeared fast and it became obvious that we should have allowed more. Unlike most of Western Australia, Fremantle has a real sense of history about it. This, coupled with a great music scene (despite my grumbles), good coffee and outstanding fish & chips made it my favourite place so far.