“You set me on fire” is the advertised tagline for the Museum of Old and New Art’s 2026 winter festival Dark Mofo, but what MONA has really mastered is the amalgamation of its attendees into a large, congested body. Participants are forced to examine the seemingly ceaseless claustrophobic chasms presented before them, the similarly uncomfortable chasms of self reflected back and their relation to the other with whom they are physically confined with. 

The large, winding line in the Brooke Street Pier prior to boarding the MONA Roma Ferry was a fitting initial experience of Dark Mofo, anticipation clawing at dozens of people as we slowly shifted forward in our singular mass onto the MONA Roma: where, having found our seats, we straddled sculpted sheep and watched the Hobart CBD fall behind us. Once reaching MONA, we climbed up the 99 stairs in this singular congested body to the top, where, again, we slowly shifted forward into the building: but not before being confronted with the distorted mirrored exterior, forced to examine the self among others before the slow retreat, and consumption, down, down, down underground and into the belly of MONA. Shock and intrigue collectively framed the exhibitions inside the belly of the Museum, whether that be rock stabbed with foreign rusted metal, burnt books, Brett Whitely works, or a series of illusions. Once emerging back into the open air, the house of mirrors again forced me to interrogate the self amongst others, all whilst determining which version of my perceived reality was or wasn’t real: this particular examination of self and perceived reality a recurring theme throughout Dark Mofo. 

Returning back to Hobart CBD and experiencing the transformation from day to night and thus, light to red, is an essential component to the Dark Mofo experience: a process through which the city truly becomes alive and “set[s itself] on fire.” The compact nature of Alter bar, through which I had the privilege of watching both Miss Kannina and Skin On Skin perform, absolutely reconfirmed this feeling of being consumed and congested by Dark MOFO: the sense of liberation and collective movement enforced by the compact nature of the venue fitting the rest of the Dark Mofo experience. Odeon Theatre, as a venue, did not allow for a similar liberation: and though Ninajirachi was spectacular, the sense of being visible, being seen, removed this liberation to a certain extent. 

For Dark Park, I found myself again entering that curved, congested line, anticipation again crawling up into me, the collective body again shifting slowly forward until finally we were ushered into the installations. The first room we entered was dark, spotlighting a swinging belt repeatedly hitting the floor, causing a choir of repeated echoes which became faster and faster and encouraged a demanding sense of urgency. We were then shoved as a collective into a room of flashing lights, where a wall of lights ultimately crept closer at growing intervals of speed: encouraging that urgency and a sense of the room closing in on us. The Spirit of Tasmania installation, where again we creeped as a body into and throughout the large boat, naturally evoked a degree of claustrophobia. Given the magnitude of this Spirit of Tasmania installation, I was disappointed by the lack of sculptural elements featured, and the over-reliance on screen installations which evoked a string of empty images. “I want to burn the sun,” and “there is nothing left to pray for,” as the framing images of this experience enforced a degree of dread among visitors: the anticipation of death, as confirmed by the car crash scene at the conclusion of the boat, potentially mirroring the death of certain aspects of the ego, to ultimately allow that self to again be liberated.   

The Winter Feast allowed for the collective body to commune and feed itself under a series of red crosses before the body was again forced into movement and exploration at Night Mass. The food was a demonstration of Tasmania’s continuously high eating standards: Truffle farm catering’s charred pork, hoisin and tassie cider stick and loaded tassie potatoes a particularly fine example of gourmet Tasmanian food. Bruny Island Oysters Tasmania was another highlight, their naked oysters an absolute staple of the Tasmanian eating experience.  

Night Mass was the true masterpiece of this winter festival and a fitting last chapter of Dark Mofo. After having, again, slowly shifted as an anticipating body down into Night Mass, we were taken through a seemingly never-ending series of rooms, through which the pounding darkness seemed to guide us almost ceremoniously through. Raving goblins, ballerinas, aerial dancers, castles and light installations all met us in dark corners of these never-ending chasms of darkness: where, once taken back outside, the self is again reunited with the fire organ, before again heading back inside to be absorbed into the collective, liberated body, where all versions of self are accepted, and in fact, celebrated.  

Ultimately, the physical passage through the dark chasms constructed by the Museum of Old and New Art for Dark Mofo promoted a unique environment through which each participant was able to examine all aspects of their being in relation to the congested other. Attendees accept or shed certain aspects of that interrogated self, or, in fact, “set [them] on fire,” to then encourage that individual's liberation amongst the communal body mass. It is for this reason the festival continues to attract such a large pool, as in a culture with increasingly growing rules on what we can/cannot do, what is/isn’t acceptable, it provides a space where one can fully surrender and, in fact, celebrate those unsavoury aspects of self which society continues to push into the darkness of night.