Joy Warren established her Solander Gallery in 1974, when there was a burgeoning interest in the visual arts in Canberra.

The Abraxas Gallery, an important venue for contemporary art, was established the same year, Gallery Huntly a year earlier, Beaver Galleries in 1975 and Chapman Gallery the following year. The ACT chapter of the Arts Council was staging many innovative shows and the future National Gallery had started buying art aggressively for a building that was only to open in 1982.

Over the subsequent decades, the cultural landscape in the nation’s capital changed significantly as the institutional art sector seemed to grow as if on steroids, while the commercial art gallery scene, after a period of rapid expansion, started to contract (it’s smaller now than it was in the late 1970s).

Solander Gallery has remained a main player in the Canberra art scene with the indefatigable Warren at its helm. She has become a cultural icon with a flair for publicity, possibly stemming from her background in public relations.

The present exhibition is a ‘‘personal stock show’’, where Warren is selling off some of her own collection, as well as work from the stockroom.

Many of the artists in the show, including David Boyd, Frank Hodgkinson, Stan de Teliga, Brett Whiteley and Arthur Boyd, are no longer with us, while many of the others are aged veterans.

As is quite often the case with her recent shows, the display policy is best described as one of creative chaos, with pieces sneaking up the staircase and peeping out of corners.

Highlights include a splendid glowing Hodgkinson, a couple of excellent Andrew Sibleys, two classic de Teliga canvases and a very strong Michael Taylor, Monaro Ranges.

The outstanding piece is a brilliant Alun Leach-Jones, Jacob’s Ladder, strong in its chromatic exuberance, with a firmly structured composition.

This may not be one of the finest shows staged at this venue, but it may well be one of the last. Although there may still be a twinkle in her eye and a passion for art that has not diminished over all of these decades, the body has grown weary.

As I was leaving the gallery, Warren, with a spark of enthusiasm, announced, ‘‘I think I will set up a new gallery at Byron Bay; they need someone who knows about good art there.’’

Both of her sons looked at their mother wistfully, as if to say, ‘‘we think she may be serious!’’