Maybe it's the fact that I spent the first twenty years of my life in Adelaide that it feels so right when I return. The city is clean (relatively, in urban terms) neat, ordered, and lastly: not too big. The North-east air is fresh (again, relatively) and the view of the Adelaide Hills at sunrise pleases the soul immensely.
I have enjoyed just walking or driving around some old haunts and savouring all the good things Adelaide has to offer. A fellow church city ex-pat has just written on his Facebook profile "...is in the magical city of Cooper's and Vili's", but this place is just more than beer and pies (and the best lemomonade made, and honey ice-cream). This I was about the re-discover because of a promise to my Mum.
In all my years of living in, and travelling back to, Adelaide I had never visited The Cedars, the residence of not only two of SA's, but two of Australia's finest artists, the father and daughter Hans and Nora Heysen. I rectified my very un-South Australian attitude by bundling my Mum and my kids in the car and heading through a cold and frosty day to the yuppiesville that is Handorf. The old German township of Handorf is Adelaide's version of Daylesford (without the day-spas or drive) a haven for the overworked bourgeoisie to sip Chardonnays and chomp on eye-fillets with red wine jus. It is nostalgic, pleasant and ready to accept all of the money that Monday to Friday has just provided. Of this sport I partook with the purchase of a walking staff carved in the likeness of Tolkien's ent, Treebeard. My Mum, a keen artist and purveyor of all things creative had made a beeline for the Acadamy art gallery in the main street and Treebeard spotted me sneaking in to the next gallery. Slowly, as is the way of the entish tongue, he spoke to me: "Tony, it is your solemn duty to buy me, before Sauron spreads his dark malice over Middle Earth." How could I not accept the quest? Treebeard is keeping an eye on me in the motel room as I type, making sure I can write as much dribble as possible into this blog.
However, I have digressed. The Cedars is a rambling 125 acre property about 5 minutes drive from Handorf, along one of those little rural roads that make you wonder why you are so dense to live in the suburbs. The property still belongs to the Heysen family and is still used by them for special occasions. Hans' studio is perched some 200 metres from the homestead, up a grassy knoll and guarded by an ancient pine (presumably guarded by Treebeard until I removed him from Handorf). The studio has the feel that Heysen will return from his garden in just a moment and put another touch on the huge oil sitting on the easel. It is such a place that, even though you are sharing it with fifteen others on the tour, you are sure you are the only one who has been invited. Anney, who is arty to the core, felt the need to stand in one of the places that Heysen had stood to paint, her feet sitting easily in the worn out carpet that had accepted such big shoes.
Heysen's majesty of line and light is only equalled by the beautiful pencil, charcoal and conte drawings of his daughter, Nora, in the gallery down the hill from the studio. Both artists made their work attract all of your attention, allowing you to leave your world for moments and see things through their eyes. Stunning portraits, vibrant still lifes and the ubiquitous scenic paintings are in abundance. As expected they are far more evocative that any reproduction found on a dining room wall or in a gallery catalogue.
Our guide, knowledgeable and pleasant, took us through the sprawling garden of sunny daffodils indispersed between native and imported plants, and under the massive eponymic cedar trees (there are a couple of sideboards in those) to the homestead. Again, I got the feeling of hospitality and welcome I walked through the lazy verandah and into the house. The walls are adorned with original Heysens and I could have plonked my bottom on the same raised floorboards that felt the light feet of Pavlova and had resonated with powerful voice of Melba. But, of course, that day I was the guest.
A well appointed gallery and store are mandatory to the survival of any self-funded heritage enterprise and The Cedars is no exception. Books, bookmarks, postcards and cards accompanied us back to the car (for Treebeard to peruse in the boot).
A pleasant return drive down through those beautiful hills and the eponymic Heysen tunnel set off a day that leaves you feeling good about South Australia and its place in the cultural world.
Although I am now thought of as 'a bloody Victorian' I still feel very much at home when I visit Adelaide.
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