Australiana, Vol 40 no 1, February 2018

In October this year, the Australiana Society will turn 40, and I am very pleased to announce that we will be recognising this important milestone in a number of different ways. However it is worthwhile remembering that when the Society was founded in 1978 there was very limited interest in Australian decorative arts. We should recognise and acknowledge the foresight of the small group of enthusiasts who came together because of a shared passion for Australiana. Ten people (with two apologies) attended the inaugural meeting which was held in Balmain in October 1978. The minutes of that meeting indicate that Michel Reymond was appointed as Chairman, Robert Hutchinson was the first President, Kevin Fahy and Don Tomsett were elected Vice presidents, Andy Simpson was elected as secretary/treasurer and John Wade and Jim Garaty were appointed as committee members. Remarkably, three of the founders, namely Andy, Michel and John, are still very much involved!

Wood and stone carver Lewis John Godfrey contributed to the high end of the artistic spectrum displayed at the International and Intercolonial Exhibitions from the 1850s into the 20th century, and his stone carvings still grace many buildings in Dunedin, New Zealand. Immediately after finishing his London apprenticeship, Godfrey sailed to Australia in 1852, soon finding employment with Launceston cabinet maker John Brown. His carvings were of such quality that four were sent to the 1855 Universal Exhibition in Paris. Rob La Nauze fills in this previously unrecorded gap in his life and corrects some details.

A Rats of Tobruk wood panel falls under the category of “trench art”: decorative objects made by soldiers, prisoners of war, or civilians that are directly linked to armed conflict or its consequences. This term is a misnomer as these objects were rarely, if ever made in the trenches. Many were made from scrap metal like shell casings or in the case of the Napoleonic Wars, POWs used discarded animal bones. During and after the First and Second World Wars, it was profitable to make mementoes on a large scale due to huge quantities of material available, but Peter Lane argues that this is a personal memento.

Prominent colonists or officials returning “home” were often presented with a memento to thank them for their achievements in Australia. These gifts often took the form of an object that was distinctly Australian in its design or materials. Many works have been forgotten or destroyed, so it is a gratifying when they are recognised and repatriated to Australia where they will be appreciated and valued as part of our national heritage.

Coursing has a history of over 150 years in Australia. In its heyday in Britain, the sport attracted the aristocracy and even royalty such as Prince Albert. In Australia, wealthy gentlemen bred, owned, traded and gambled on greyhounds. The most famous dogs were expensive, revered and the subject of portraits by Australia’s leading sporting artists. John Hawkins reveals the golden days of coursing, and illustrates two of the finest portraits, by the little known artist- photographer Henry Hainsselin.

Vaucluse House has been in public ownership since 1910, initially managed by a government-appointed board of trustees as a public park and historical museum, and latterly managed as a house museum under the control of the Historic Houses Trust of NSW (now known as Sydney Living Museums). Megan Martin looks at the work of the early Vaucluse Park trustees, their approach to the house and its grounds, and their legacy of substantial acquisitions which survive today in the collection at Vaucluse House.

Peter Watts composed this tribute to John Morris, former director of the National Trust (NSW) and a former President of the Australiana Society. He outlines John’s substantial contribution to heritage conservation in NSW, where he and his allies took the fight up to bureaucrats and developers to preserve buildings, places and even whole suburbs of significant heritage and social value.

Years ago I bought a brass tray with gum leaves on it. I turned it over and saw that the maker had incised on the back “Hand Made R. Head Cremorne”. At the time, the name meant nothing to me. Then I found another one, without a maker’s name, but in the Arts & Crafts style and with similar features: the same scalloped border, same central panel with two gum leaves on a hammered ground, same border of punched circles; similar four round feet. Eventually, I had to try to find out who “R. Head” was.

If you think that a history of the numismatic collection held by the Art Gallery of South Australia would be a dry read of limited appeal, you are certainly in for a pleasant surprise with Peter Lane’s new book. It is a good read, full of life and interest.