Library Contemporary Art

We are thrilled to share Lucas Grogan’s monumental commissioned work has been unveiled at the library Phrontisterion at the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA), Hobart. 

‘A LIBRARY (Imagine Sisyphus Happy)’ was commissioned by MONA as part of the new underground library, Phrontisterion. The space houses David Walsh’s collection of more than 30,000 books and related objects, including Shakespeare’s First Folio, a first edition of Lolita, and signed editions by Umberto Eco, J.G. Ballard and Hunter S. Thompson. 

Made up of 27 panels that span nearly 10 metres by 5 metres, this expansive library is a verdant tidal wave of thoughts, opinions, memories, jokes, and references to MONA’s collection.

About this work, Lucas shares: “A LIBRARY (Imagine Sisyphus Happy) was commissioned by MONA as part of the new underground library, Phrontisterion. The space houses David Walsh’s collection of more than 30,000 books and related objects, including Shakespeare’s First Folio, a first edition of Lolita, and signed editions by Umberto Eco, J.G. Ballard and Hunter S. Thompson. 

My library paintings began as a simple way to gather the contents of my journals into one place: jokes, quotes, ideas, opinions and reflections. A meeting point where the serious collided with the ridiculous, and where interior life met projection. It quickly became apparent that these works functioned as both time capsules and portraits. We are not what we look like, but rather how we think, what we feel, and what we love or loathe. The libraries operate like distilleries, where sweet meets sour, academic meets frivolous, and questions occasionally find answers.

Since my first exhibition in 2003, I have bought a glossy art book to commemorate the occasion, inscribing the year and signing it “XLG”. Over time this evolved into buying a book to mark any significant or joyful event. The collection has become one of my most treasured possessions: a working library of resources I use daily in the studio, each carrying a sentimental reason for its inclusion.

I have also kept a diary since childhood. These days they are process journals, almost entirely text-based, filled with short poems, headlines, quotations and stray ideas. I love the way unrelated thoughts sit alongside one another. They become chaotic poems, diving deep down one rabbit hole before immediately swerving in another direction and contradicting themselves. What ends up on the painted book spines often depends entirely on my mood. Sometimes the news feels apocalyptic; other times I become embarrassingly sentimental. The books reflect this. I have found it best to distribute each mood evenly across the shelves.

Working within a deliberately limited palette, I wanted each spine to feel like a volume within a sprawling, disordered encyclopedia. Over time this developed into a form of camouflage. The eye struggles to settle on any single title before being distracted by another. I suspect that the title that first leaps out at you is either the one you most need to read, or perhaps the one that was written about you all along. 

During COVID, as people broadcast from their homes, I became fascinated by the bookshelves behind them. Some carefully positioned their own publications; others seemed eager to demonstrate intelligence, taste or cultural capital. The objects nestled among the books often revealed even more: Star Wars figurines, Hermannsburg pottery, feathers collected from the street. Bookshelves became accidental self-portraits.

Historically, owning books signified wealth, power and knowledge. While large domestic libraries have become less common, books still function as markers of class, status and aspiration. A Tom Ford monograph on a coffee table, a Keith Haring book supporting a vase, or Ottolenghi’s Jerusalem gathering dust in thekitchen. I am fascinated by the way bookshelves simultaneously document and perform identity. They offer clues about who someone is, and perhaps who they would like to be.

When David asked me to create this work, I nearly shat my pants. Equal parts excitement and dread. He visited my studio while I was working on a series of exclusively blue libraries and casually mentioned that he had already chosen green carpet for the Phrontisterion. “Yep,” I said, “love that.” MONA gave me access to its collection, allowing me to incorporate objects from across its holdings. Many were ancient, fascinating and, unfortunately for my purposes, overwhelmingly brown. So I adjusted what I could, altered scale where necessary, and added flourishes along the way.

Ultimately it took a year to complete this work for MONA. 27 panels shipped down and trimmed to fit with crossed fingers. Now it’s there permanently at the end of a rabbit warren- a dark forest - a verdant tidal wave of thoughts, opinions, memories and jokes."

Phrontisterion Library, Museum of Old and New Art, Hobart, Tasmania, is open Thursday to Monday, 10am – 5pm, with access included with museum entry.  

Lucas Grogan, A LIBRARY (Imagine Sisyphus Happy) (artwork detail), 2025-26, acrylic on hoop pine ply, commissioned for MONA library, Phrontisterion, Hobart. Photography by Jesse Hunniford. Image Courtesy of the Museum of Old and New Art, Hobart, Tasmania, Australia