VINE INTERVENTION

An expanse of pristine land on Victoria’s Mornington Peninsula becomes home to an intoxicating curation of art

If the holy trinity of cultural tourism is now monumental art, modern architecture and Michelin-standard hospitality had among the vines — as per MONA in Tassie and Château La Coste in Provence — then Victoria’s Mornington Peninsula can declare itself Australia’s devotional centre. The region’s worship of fermented grapes and fine art is forewarned by a freeway approach that scatters public sculpture commissions along its verge — local artist Callum Morton’s shrunken Hotel (2008) still bemuses drivers seeking a bed — and is validated by the 200-plus premium vineyards, several with sculpture parks, peppering its coast. But nothing prepares you for, or compares to, the newly opened Point Leo Estate, a 135-hectare ‘legacy project’ that sites 50 large-scale contemporary sculptures by a who’s who of homegrown and offshore talent in a vine-dotted estate with dramatic views to Western Port Bay. Owned by Pauline and John Gandel, billionaire benefactors who built an empire on the back of visionary retail — Chadstone Shopping Centre pioneered ‘experiential shopping’ decades before futurists flagged its worth — this open-to-the-public hedonists’ heaven has been 20 years in the making but seeds from a lifetime of philanthropy. “This is phenomenal, without peer… and what a plum role,” says Geoffrey Edwards, the former director of the Geelong Gallery and former head of sculpture at the National Gallery of Victoria, who was approached by the Gandels more than a year ago to curate their collection into a coastal park that sated all senses. “There is the distinctiveness of location hosted by patrons that are just divine to work for. They are so respectful and so passionate about this part of the world and creating something so genuine that can be enjoyed by the people of Victoria, the people of Australia and beyond.” Speaking from inside the estate’s cellar-door complex — a quietly expressive hilltop structure designed by Melbourne architect Stephen Jolson to drink in the drama of its context — the dapper Edwards commends “the nicely restrained architecture” for its material reflection of region and sensitivity to a surrounding mix of strong signatures. Its circular-planned structure balloons out on the bayside, with a curved wall of glass creating a majestic display of outer sculptures that seemingly march off into sea and sky. On its concave entry side, enveloping concrete walls were formed to abstract the flow of wine from a bottle and to frame artist Inge King’s imperious Grand Arch (2011), a modernist sweep of painted steel that signifies the gateway to good food, by former Rockpool executive chef Phil Wood, and cool-climate wine made exclusively from surrounding vines. “I suggest that it is destined to become one of the estate’s most photographed works,” says Edwards of King’s triumphal arch. “But then there is no shortage of vistas and sculptures to encourage the taking of the ubiquitous selfie.” Informing that the park is international in its aspirations and scope, Edwards leads a tour into a landscape “sculpted from scratch” by design studio Hassell with the words, “I think this will be a revelation.” He takes the first of two snaking paths — one is measured for the 40-minute engagement with art; the other for a more immersive 90 minutes — and makes an observation about the need to “adjust the bearings on the great George Rickey”, the up-front, wind-responsive steel sculpture Four Lines Up Oblique V (1977) that was engineered by the American father of kinetic art. It testifies to the museum-like calibre of work that will be encountered on looping paths planned for the quick dash back to the cellar door to savour another drop of the estate’s single vineyard chardonnay or Shiraz. ››

‹‹ “Every single work, every single placement, has had Mr and Mrs Gandel’s personal intention,” says Edwards, spinning the backstories for Michael Le Grand’s glossy blue steel Tsunami (1988), British sculptor Tony Cragg’s rhythmic, rising bronze pillar Luke (2008), Clement Meadmore’s jazz-inspired Riffffff (1996) and Spanish artist Jaume Plensa’s monolithic, cast-iron head Laura Asia (2016). “But it’s not meant to be encyclopedic; we’re not trying to do the A to Z of every name. We want to show the mix of disciplines and impart a sense of the collector’s persona.” On cue, Pauline Gandel speeds down the path in a buggy built for golf and regales Edwards with an image of Swiss artist Ugo Rondinone’s Sunrise East March (2007). “We need some ugly,” she says, justifying the hulk of an amorphous metal head with terrifying teeth. “A bit of wackiness will work over there.” Edwards calls this a momentary insight into a collecting intelligence that knows “beauty needs the Brueghel peasant to make it shine — how utterly brilliant!”