How Vandal Set The Sydney Opera House Sails Alight with Radical, Queer Art

‘Lighting of the Sails: Kiss of Light’ by David McDiarmid transforms the artist’s radical, countercultural vision into an animated projection to celebrate his unapologetic self-expression, activism, and legacy.

Trustee of David McDiarmid's estate and manager of his creative legacy, Dr Sally Gray, worked closely with VANDAL to bring the work to life authentically. Sydney Festival Director Gill Minervini and Sydney Opera House senior curator, contemporary art Michael Do also played key roles in concept development, creative direction, and production, breathing movement into David’s renowned body of work to life – including Bedsheet Paintings, Disco Kwilts, Kiss of Light, and Rainbow Aphorisms.

VANDAL creative director Chris Scott and EP Melody Ha spoke to LBB about bringing the underground energy and the spirit of David’s work to the project -- complete with his lust, rage, and hope.

They discussed the collaborative effort to honour David’s legacy while translating his bold, handmade artworks into a dynamic large-scale projection, as well as the creative and technical challenges of maintaining the emotional essence of his work, and the project's contribution to contemporary LGBTQ+ visibility -- celebrating unapologetically queer art on a monumental public stage.

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LBB> What role did collaboration with McDiarmid’s estate and curators play in shaping the final creative direction? Were there any surprising insights or debates?

Chris> With a project of this nature, collaboration is everything. And our curatorial team of Dr Sally Gray, executor of David’s estate, Gill Minervini, festival director of Vivid Sydney, and Michael Do, senior curator of contemporary art at Sydney Opera House, were amazing -- deeply generous with their knowledge of David, and fiercely protective of his legacy in the best possible way.

We had great conversations about context, nuance, and meaning that really helped us lay down the foundations for the work and collectively keep it on track throughout the whole animation process.

Melody> What really stuck with us was the energy in the room in every meeting. We all knew we were holding something that mattered deeply. It wasn’t always easy, but that shared sense of responsibility kept us aligned. Everyone genuinely wanted to honour David and his work, and that made the process feel real, and meaningful.

LBB> What specific challenges did you face in translating David McDiarmid’s static artworks into a dynamic, large-scale projection, and how did you overcome them?

Chris> David’s work is already so bold, loud and layered that turning it into animation without overwhelming the viewer -- or diluting its intent -- was a bit of a tightrope walk.

The biggest challenge was honouring the handmade feel: the brushstrokes, the textures, the imperfectly placed pieces of holographic film. We didn’t want it to feel too slick or digital. So we spent a lot of time pulling apart the works, literally and metaphorically, to understand how they breathe, then built the animation around that rhythm. It was less about adding movement and more about revealing the movement already inside the work.

LBB> Were there any elements of McDiarmid’s work that you wanted to include but couldn’t – due to technical, thematic, or other constraints?

Melody> There were a couple of glorious, chaotic works we loved but just couldn’t make work on the sails in a way that stayed true enough to their intent. Some of David's more risque works wouldn't have been appropriate for the mass audiences who experience Vivid Sydney, but we found other ways to carry the same energy.

LBB> The campaign mentions “lust, rage, and hope” as driving forces – how did you visually represent these intense emotions in the animation?

Chris> These feelings don’t always show up in literal ways -- they’re abstract, emotional undercurrents that run through the movement, texture, and rhythm of the work. Lust comes through in the sensual textures -- the shimmering holographics, the fluid fabric, the hands that brush across the sails. Rage is in the cracks, the fire, and the vortex moments where everything fragments. And hope is in the colour. The unapologetic brightness. And in the pulsating words of the final aphorism: Don’t forget to remember.

LBB> The Opera House sails are such an iconic canvas -- how did you tailor McDiarmid’s art to fit their unique architecture while preserving its impact?

Chris> Those sails are beautiful but tricky. They curve, they interrupt themselves. So we treated them like a living sculpture – mapping David’s works in ways that hugged the structure, rather than just sitting on top of it. In some places, the architecture actually enhanced the meaning -- especially in the fabric-based segment where the forms of the sails take on the undulating form of bodies writhing underneath.

LBB> VANDAL is known for pushing creative boundaries -- did this project introduce any new techniques or technologies you hadn’t used before?

Chris> Absolutely. We developed a lot of custom animation workflows to mimic the feel of hand-painted textures and to simulate the shifting iridescence of holographic film across the Opera House’s curved surface.

We also had to rethink how to animate typography in a way that felt intuitive and human, not overly polished or ‘motion-designed’. It took some trial and error, but we’ll always take a technical headache if it helps the emotion land.

LBB> Given McDiarmid’s focus on queer identity and protest, how do you see this work contributing to contemporary conversations around LGBTQ+ rights and artistic expression?

Chris> Visibility still matters. Representation still saves lives. And art still speaks when politics fall short. David’s work is fearless, funny, political, and deeply human. In 2025, with so much still at stake, lighting up Sydney Opera House with his message feels like both a celebration and a statement -- these stories of identity and protest aren’t just historical, they’re as urgent as ever.

Melody> It's been a rare honour to bring unabashedly queer artwork to such a large stage for new and old audiences, without any pressure to tone it down.

The work stands on its own -- powerful and accessible to everyone, with layers of meaning that will resonate especially within the LGBTQIA+ community. There’s a joy in embracing that coded language -- the if you know, you know nod that’s familiar within the community -- and letting that humour and intimacy speak for itself.