Don't be a Drongo, Mate (Print)

We celebrate the raw, unpolished poetry of colloquial language—words that carry the weight of history, class, and cultural identity. Don't be a drongo takes a quintessentially Australian insult, once used to mock perceived foolishness, and elevates it to the status of art, transforming derision into a playful yet pointed cultural statement.

Together, these elements create a tension between the organic and the constructed, much like the evolution of slang itself.

The plastic gun arranged between 18th centuary flowers  is rendered with bold pink, its plastic polish elevates the item to iconic—visually echoing the term’s working-class roots. Like the baseball cap on the noblewoman or the Cortina’s minimalist rebirth, this artwork disrupts expectations, taking what was once a jab and turning it into a badge of irreverent pride. It challenges viewers to reconsider the power dynamics embedded in language: who gets to define intelligence, and who decides what’s worthy of respect?

In the tradition of Australian larrikinism, Don't be a drongo refuses to take itself too seriously, even as it critiques cultural elitism. It’s a wink and a middle finger rolled into one, inviting guests to laugh while questioning why certain words—and the people who use them—are dismissed.