writer BERT SPINKS photographer PEN TAYLER
On Sunday mornings Evandale is abuzz with activity. This is mostly centred around Falls Park, where the various stall-holders of the Evandale markets have erected their tables and displayed their wares. Sometimes I will join the throng, staggering over to one of the coffee caravans, obsessively perusing the second-hand books, choosing another pot-plant for the house, or ordering an unreasonable quantity of Sudanese doughnuts.
In the near distance stands Ben Lomond, an impressive massif of dolerite which appears as a hulk of hazy blue on the clear mornings. At 1,572 metres, Legges Tor is the plateau’s highest pinnacle, and the second-highest peak in Tasmania, but unlike almost every other summit on the island, it’s largely accessible by vehicle. Winter here offers – albeit unreliably – skiing and snowboarding. More indubitably, rock climbers can be found on every face of the mountain, clinging to its columns of solidified magma, and bushwalkers have their choice of bouldery tracks, with Stacks Bluff, at the southern end of the mountain, a very enjoyable hike for those experienced with mountain walking.
Below the dolerite scree, the land levels out into fine farming country. A handful of wineries add to the scenery. Driving through the backroads of this White Hills area is delightful. The narrow windy roads are lined with hedgerows, offering scenery familiar to Europe – aside from the big stands of strapping eucalypts.
It’s an environment which plays a significant role in the history of Australian landscape art. When the British painter John Glover freely migrated to Van Diemen’s Land, he acquired an enormous land grant just outside the burgeoning town of Evandale. Glover depicted the landscapes around him with some joy, no painting more than My Harvest Home, his famous 1835 pastoral work. As a later critic says, it is a ‘flamboyant statement of his success as a landowner’.
Glover is arguably not above reproach, but he is rightfully regarded as one of the most important artists in colonial Australia. His attention to native flora is important; while many colonial painters could only see weirdness in the vegetation, Glover was able to present its picturesque qualities, even to audiences back in England. His palette is also pleasingly accurate. Glancing at each of his landscapes, we see the olive greens and hazy blues that make up much of our countryside, which must have been alien to the European-trained eyes of painters like Glover.
We also see occasional Aboriginal parties in his works. They are still meeting, dancing and swimming, freely enjoying their traditional lands. But these representations of Glover’s are sheer romanticism. At the time Glover was working in Van Diemen’s Land, conflict between Aboriginals and colonials was close to its worst. Some of the most violent depredations were caused by another significant figure from this neck of the woods, John Batman.
Batman was driven by a hunger for grazing land, and participated in the capture of free Aboriginals between 1828 and 1830. He would later go to the banks of the Yarra and attempt to found a city called Batmania – the site of today’s Melbourne. This, too, occurred by means of a controversial treaty with the indigenous people of that place. John Glover, the romantic, was outspoken in his condemnation of all Batman stood for, describing his neighbour as a ‘rogue, thief, cheat and liar, a murderer of blacks and the vilest man I have ever known’.
Evandale perpetuates the memory of its iconic local artist with the annual Glover Prize. Each year, the judges receive several hundred artworks representing the Tasmanian landscape in some way. The winners’ reward is one of the most significant purses in Australian landscape art – as well as a great deal of recognition. All short-listed artworks are hung in the annual exhibition, which is visited by thousands over several weeks in March.
An equally fierce competition takes place in February, when the Evandale Village Fair brings a penny farthing bicycle race to the town’s main street. The feature race is serious, and serious rivalry underpins the interstate relay, while the novice and the slowest-wins races contribute plenty of comedy. So too the sassy public commentary – whether that from the official race commentator or from those watching on their front porches drinking cocktails for the occasion.
The opportunity to encounter Tasmanian contemporary art is year-round. Handmark Gallery, on Russell Street, showcases a wide variety of artists from the island in a diverse range of media. And if you’re looking to contrast it with something more folksy, one of the pubs in town features murals of scenes from regional history. Bushrangers and governors chase each other in bright colours all around the walls as you head into the front bar of the Clarendon Arms. These scenes are incongruously rendered by a Norwegian artist who has splashed and daubed these moments of history, conjuring them back to life and casting them in a romantic light. A visit to Evandale isn’t complete without pub grub and pints at one of the town’s historic hotels.
History lies beneath the surface around Evandale as well. In 1836, twenty kilometres of tunnels and aqueducts were constructed as part of a public utility scheme to transfer water from the South Esk River at Evandale to the city of Launceston. Shafts and tunnels can still be found on private properties around Evandale, an intriguing archaeological record of early colonial innovation.
There’s even a historic radiata pine on Russell Street, deemed nationally significant. The scaly bark twists around a trunk of great girth, inelegant but impressive on a nature strip near the market grounds.
The South Esk River wanders 252 kilometres from the mountains to the north-east to its confluence with the Tamar and North Esk rivers at Launceston. It is Tasmania’s longest river, and one of its most beautiful as well. At Evandale, the South Esk forms an ideal summer swimming hole, broad, deep and cool. These very alluvial flats are known as Aboriginal meeting places, and the country around Evandale was regularly burned by Aboriginal tribes as part of their hunting practice. The waters of the South Esk and the forested foothills of Ben Lomond were significant sites. Many of today’s Tasmanian Aboriginals trace their ancestry to the trawulwuy people, to an enigmatic clan leader named Mannalargenna, and to his daughters, who courageously kept many of the traditions of their people alive.
It’s easy, in these villages, to think history goes back two centuries. So many of these buildings we admire can serve as a rampart against the deeper map of the territory. I often attempt to picture these places without any infrastructure, trying to see the contours and colours of the land as they would have been not so long ago. I can’t say what this mental activity really achieves, other than a vague sense of the relationship between time and place. Perhaps it helps me accept that it will change.
It’s a great town to walk around, to linger after the markets. The bakery is lively. The war hero Harry Murray is either hurling a grenade or a googly down the street; John Glover appears to be trying to hitch-hike his way back to his property in neighbouring village. Go on, give him a lift.
Bert Spinks grew up in Beaconsfield and is now, mostly, a resident of Launceston. He is a writer, storyteller and bushwalking guide, each of which feed and reflect his interest in the way human communities interact with place and landscape. He focuses especially on journeys and movement, language and literature. Although based in Launceston, Bert spends much of his time without a home because he is in one of the world's wild or interesting places pursing local lore.
Pen Tayler is a Tasmanian writer and photographer. She photographed 12 towns for Towns of Tasmania, written by Bert Spinks, and has written and provided images for Hop Kilns of Tasmania (both Forty South Publishing). She has also written a book about Prospect House and Belmont House in the Coal River Valley.
