CULTURE SCOOP:
David Hourigan’s Miniature Music Scene
In an era where history risks being overtaken by rapid modernisation, the need to immortalise cultural hubs becomes increasingly important. David Hourigan, through the craft of miniature artwork, embodies this sentiment. His creations echo the heartbeat of Melbourne's cultural landscape. We sat down with David to discuss..
Tsk Tsk: Your miniature artworks capture iconic music venues in Melbourne. What drew you specifically to these locations, and how do you feel your miniatures encapsulate the essence of these cultural hubs
David: I first started making miniatures of Melbourne landmarks in 2019, although I have been making models my whole life. I had an opportunity to step back from full time work, doing the corporate grind every day, and become a full time artist. At first I just wanted to capture some of the buildings in my local neighbourhood in the inner west. I wasn't sure if people would be interested in miniatures, but the response every year has gotten bigger and bigger. Over time I gradually expanded my area of interest, to other parts of Melbourne that I loved - restaurants like the Waiters Club, or Pellegrinis. To me it's a chance to show some love back to the places that I love. My first music venue was Cherry Bar, back when it was in AC/DC Lane in the city - I was drawn to this by fond memories of nights out, and also the amazing street art in that laneway. I knew it would make a good miniature.
After that first one, I realised that music venues would make a good theme for a few more builds, that they are pretty special places for a lot of people. We have so much invested in them, so many memories, so many good times. Plus, Melbourne has such an incredible history of live music, and in particular a helluva lot of venues that we have lost to noise complaints, real estate developers, and neglect. Nostalgia is central to my work, I'm a sentimental fool at heart; and as the artist I can set my miniatures at any moment in time. I have made miniatures that are an exact replica of a building on the day I visit it, even down to the height of the weeds, and I have made miniatures of buildings that were demolished decades ago working from only one or two old photos. It seemed like a good idea to combine this love of history and love of music.
Tsk Tsk: During lockdown, you found solace in recreating these venues. Can you speak more about how this creative process positively affected your mental health and potentially impacted others who follow your work?
David: Ah yes. Lockdown. It was a tough time for Melbourne. I'm a pretty stable person, but I think about day 200 of not leaving the house was when lockdown lost its charm for me. I kept working on my miniatures, but I couldn't get out to visit potential subjects in person to measure, photograph, sketch the buildings. Lockdown forced me to think about my art differently. Rather than slavishly converting every measurement into an exact scale replica, I could instead capture the essence of a place, the personality. I realised that this could actually be a positive - as long as there were photos online, I didn't need to see it in person, with a tiny bit of educated guessing for anything I couldn't see in the photo I could actually make *any* building in miniature.
This was a liberating moment. Rather than feeling sad that I couldn't get out to see live music in the venues I loved so much, I could instead celebrate those places by making them in miniature form. Screw you COVID!
Tsk Tsk: Your daughter occasionally joins you in your model-making. How has passing down this hobby influenced your creative process?
David: The main impact seems to be that I have a lot more paint spilled on my workbench! To be honest, I'm finding it equal parts enjoyable and difficult in helping my daughter find her creative passion in life. She is eleven, and in that phase where she is trying a few things to see what sparks for her. It has made me realise how lucky I am - I have loved making models since I was about her age, it has given me joy my whole life. It sounds ridiculous to say that making miniatures gives me joy, but it does. Turning a pile of foam, balsa, plastic and foil into a finished product that connects with people, that can make people remember a particular night out, or meeting their future husband or wife at a gig - that's pretty special to me.
Tsk Tsk: Your miniatures seem to celebrate the revival of spaces like The Tote, which almost closed. What message or story do you hope your art communicates?
David: From my very first miniature in January 2019, I've been trying to preserve places that we are in danger of losing. I sometimes feel like I'm in a race against time to capture those unloved gems that we walk past every day. Once I started on the music venue theme, the Tote was always going to be near the top of my list. When I made it in miniature in 2021 it looked like it was going to be sold off for another soulless fucking block of units - slick developers would keep the facade but gut the rest and cram as many profit-making shoeboxes into the corpse. I definitely wanted to preserve how it looked at its most vulnerable, its most desperate. Luckily, and rather implausibly, the Tote was saved by public fundraising and I couldn't be happier.
Reading that back, I'm surprised by how passionately I feel about it. It's just a building. But it's important to remember where we came from, to remember what makes Melbourne so special. Places like the Tote, the Punters Club, the Corner Hotel, Northcote Social Club, Grace Darling, the Greyhound Hotel, The Reverence - to me, these are jewels in Melbourne's crown. They may be unpolished jewels compared to more famous venues like the Espy, a bit more grimy and rough around the edges, but if I can preserve them in miniature then I'm happy.
Tsk Tsk: Your solo exhibition, 'UNSUNG STREETS,' highlights your miniature artworks after a two-year hiatus due to the pandemic. How does it feel to finally exhibit your creations again?
David: It was great to be able to put my miniatures out there again. Sharing images on social media is fantastic, but nothing compares to seeing them in person. I like to put tiny touches of life into each piece, sort of like a tiny hidden Easter egg - things like a birdnest with eggs in, or a dented beer can. These help bring the miniature to life, and it's a joy to me to watch people as they interact with my work. People will take in the whole piece, then you see them lean in closer to zoom in on one aspect, then lean back out, then lean in again to see something else up close. It's still equally surprising and gratifying to me that people engage with my miniatures so much. My partner Aimee is an author, and she calls it the "ego payoff" - if you think about the hours that go into your creations, the financial profit is ruinously hard to justify per hour spent, but the pleasure of seeing people look at your work and having people telling you how much they enjoy your creation makes it all worthwhile. Plus, I figure if I get to bring a little bit of beauty into the world then that's a Good Thing. I'm currently trying to line up a 2024 solo exhibition, so stay tuned.
Tsk Tsk: You mentioned a new series of miniatures featuring iconic live music venues. Can you share any hints about the next venue you plan to immortalize in miniature form?
David: I generally try to keep my audience guessing what my next subject will be, but if you read back my answers to earlier questions I've definitely already let the cat out of the bag. Multiple cats out of multiple bags! I'm in the lucky position of having too many great venues to choose from.
Beyond the artistry, there lies a legacy—a testament to the collective soul of a city, a celebration of unity through music, and an enduring beacon reminding us of the importance of our cultural heritage. As David moves forward, seeking new venues to immortalize, his journey continues, painting a vivid and lasting depiction of Melbourne's dynamic cultural landscape
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