The key to winning the Bald Archy Prize is to paint something that stops people in their tracks.

Not simply with brazen content, but with a dichotomy of ideas.

A painting of Geoffrey Rush for the Bald Archy 2019, by Simon Schneider. ( ABC News: Michael Black )

That is what its founder Peter Batey said he valued about the exhibition: a more nuanced look at the state of the nation instead of the increasingly hate-filled rhetoric dominating public discourse.

Take for example an entry portraying Geoffrey Rush, by Simon Schneider, which taps into the actor's public defamation court case in 2018.

Schneider does not reveal his own opinion about any allegations against Rush, instead illustrating his predicament with a rising tide of water ebbing below his lower lip.

"I chose Geoffrey Rush because he has a face full of character and is a caricaturist's dream," Schneider said.

"He is also one of Australia's most accomplished actors.

"I came up with the concept of him being in deep water, merely reflecting his current situation."

Australian politics is 'boring': Prize founder

Bald Archy founder Peter Batey uses his cane to demonstrate the actions of political 'snipers'. ( ABC News: Michael Black )

The Bald Archy Prize was created by Peter Batey in 1994, because he wanted to poke fun at the high-brow Archibald Prize.

Because he took on a sulphur-crested cockatoo named Maude as the judge, word quickly spread.

Now aged in his 80s, Mr Batey said he found the breadth of submissions this year more "sophisticated and more intelligent" than when it was first launched all those years ago.

He said he was "bored" by Australian politics and fed up by hateful rhetoric prevalent in public debate.

Mr Batey said he preferred the entries that gave the subject of their portrait some nuance, and those that did not simply poke fun at those they reviled.

"We've got to the stage where it's announced that somebody will stand for parliament and you know that the snipers in the media are standing up ready to say 'I'll shoot you now'," he said.

Instead, works like that by Schneider, Mr Batey said, gave some depth to the conversation.

"They're open to interpretation — people aren't quite sure what the artist is thinking," he said.

'Et tu, Scotte?'

An entry in the 2019 Bald Archy prize, portraying Malcolm Turnbull as Julius Casear. ( ABC News: Michael Black )

The Liberal leadership stoush appeared several times, including in a re-working of The Last Supper with Malcolm Turnbull as Jesus before his betrayal.

And there was the entry titled "Et tu, Scotte?", comparing Shakespeare's Julius Caesar with the former prime minister, painted by Erik Krebs-Schade.

"An endless conga line of insignificant, petty, back-stabbing candidates entering from the revolving door of current Australian politics," Krebs-Schade said.

"When will it end? And when will we return to a time of being represented by those who believe it is a privilege to serve and represent the people of Australia?"

And — much like his status in Australian politics — Tony Abbott was still present in the exhibition, appearing in more than one successful entry.

Former Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott portrayed as a termite, or white ant, by Marty Steel. ( ABC News: Michael Black )

While the landscape of Australian politics may have changed in recent years, some things have remained the same.

Maude the cockatoo still judges the prize — by flapping her wings or shrieking to indicate her opinion on each painting.

But she now flies free much of the time.

"She disappeared once, for about a year," Mr Batey said. "And it was around the time of the same-sex marriage debate, and I wondered what that meant.

"And when she returned she had a whole gaggle of friends with her."

Ball tampering makes for good artistic fodder

Cameron Bancroft with his hand down his pants, by Phil Meatchem. ( ABC News: Michael Black )

Another strong theme apparent among the 2019 finalists was the ball tampering scandal, a subject that had satirical artists rubbing their hands with glee.

Balls could be seen everywhere on the walls of Watson Arts Centre, perhaps saying more about the year than any mere words could.

One entry was painted on sandpaper as a nod to the very material that started it all.

Artist Phil Meatchem painted Cameron Bancroft, the bowler at the centre of the scandal, apparently "sticking his neck out".

He said he was inspired by the hilarity in what was a tragedy for so many.

"Although the incident put a dent in the image of Australian sportsmanship, I found the pictures that were beamed around the world of one of our blokes with his hands down his pants embarrassingly hilarious," Meatchem said.

"Especially alongside the headline 'ball tampering'."