Drawing on the research he conducted for Vernacular Visions: A Folklife History of Australia – art, diversity, storytelling, Noris Ioannou discusses the links between thylacines and dingoes, and the way that modern media mirrors the past.

In this special guest post, learn about how the extinction of the Tasmanian tiger is linked to the plight of dingoes in our current times; how the earliest Australian women’s communal artwork is under threat, and how it all links back to folk art.

Since the publication of my most recent book, Vernacular Visions: A Folklife History of Australia – art, diversity, storytelling, I’ve become aware of topical news items that frequently and unexpectedly materialise and draw attention to objects and stories found in my book. Most recently, Tasmanian tigers, dingoes and the Eureka Flag, have and are receiving considerable exposure.

Take the Tasmanian tiger. Like many, I’ve always been fascinated by the tragic story of what is arguably one of Australia’s most iconic species, the Thylacine – sadly extinct since 1936. To this day, the slender, strikingly-striped marsupial asserts a high profile in Australian mythology, especially given the constant string of supposed sightings suggesting it is still alive, never mind that these are never verified!

I personally have no doubt that the Tasmanian tiger is well and truly gone, though like many, I have been beguiled about the possibility of bringing it ‘back from the dead’ through ongoing advances in biotechnology. A couple of months ago, I came across a news report that, following a generous ($5 million AUD) philanthropic donation, a group of researchers from the University of Melbourne had announced the creation of the Thylacine Integrated Genetic Restoration Research (TIGRR) Lab.

In Vernacular Visions, over 220 illustrations of a diverse range of everyday objects sourced from museums across the country, cumulatively present a history Australia as told by ordinary people.

This diversity of artworks and objects which range from Indigenous pre-history though colonial to present-day folk creativity, tells of personal life experiences, community stories and traditions, which often recount major events that mark conflict and celebration in our history. During my research, I came across many strange, beautiful, curious and unique objects which I selected as worthy of illustrating, insofar as they told us something about our past, including two that relate to the wretched story of the Tasmanian tiger.

In a small Hobart folk museum, I located a model of a Noah’s ark made around 1870 for a child’s nursery: it was a delightful and captivating item. Looking closely at the intricately handmade model which was crowded by the usual lineup of animal pairs entering the ark, lions, giraffes, elephants, and other animals typically seen – all crowding the ark’s decking – I was startled when I spied a handful of animals I had never before seen included on a Noah’s ark. It was a small group of Australian species, among which was a pair of Tasmanian tigers, the carved figures instantly recognisable from the distinct bars painted on the animals’ hind quarters! How delightful, I first thought, that the unknown maker had included these creatures. In the following instance the irony of these animals being represented on the ark dawned on me: having survived the biblical flood, they had not survived the coming of Europeans to Tasmania!

For me, the toy ark ironically foreshadowed the subsequent extinction of the Tasmanian tiger.

Although still relatively common in the 1870s, ignorance and even malevolent claims of Tasmanian tigers being ‘sheep killers’ led to a government bounty placed on the Tasmanian tiger, which led to its systematic slaughter – and ultimately to its extinction. To add ignominy to its ill-fated demise, soon after locating the Noah’s ark, and while I was researching at the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, I was astonished to come across a pin cushion made in 1900 from a Thylacine jaw bone! Apparently, the jaw bone was one of 17 Tasmanian tigers shot at the time (on just one farm), by the Ferrar family. They had constructed a fenced yard with gaps and spring guns that went off when a Tasmanian tiger stepped on a gap. In the museum, a note attached to the pin cushion informs us that the wife of the Ferrar family had been given the jaw of one of these shot Tasmanian tigers. She then diligently applied her domestic skills to create the pin cushion. Now displayed in a cabinet, this somewhat forlorn handicraft ‘trophy’ inadvertently showcases the shameful demise of the Tasmanian Tiger.

As early as 1830, the Van Diemen’s Land Company had placed a bounty on the head of the Thylacine. The Tasmanian government subsequently signed the species’ death warrant by continuing the bounty on the Thylacine until 1909. During this time some 2,184 bounties were paid out! And so, by 1936, when the last of the Tasmanian tigers died in the Hobart Zoo, the Thylacine was officially extinct.

But there was more to come! More recently, the Weekend Australian Magazine (April 9–10 2022), ran a feature concerning the pushback by an increasing number of farmers in Queensland against the government listing of the dingo as an invasive animal that ‘must be’ destroyed by shooting, trapping or baiting. Does that sound familiar? Because the front jacket cover of Vernacular Visions features a folk art, life-sized dingo made around 1930 from recycled galvanised iron, my attention was especially caught by this article. This folk art dingo had been found on a sheep station in the arid inland, its probable location alongside a gate would have been to act as a decoy to turn away stray sheep. It is now in the collection of the National Gallery of Australia.

I now see why slaughter is a popular government solution for so-called ‘pests’, and why the Thylacine was deliberately exterminated.

Tasmanian graziers demonised the Thylacine – it was a blood-thirsty carnivore with a reputation as a sheep killer! In reality, the Thylacine was just being used as a convenient scapegoat for the mismanagement of the sheep farms, and the killing of sheep was by feral dogs introduced by the farmers themselves, just as the dingo is currently demonised and considered a pest.

Again, recently online and in print, I came across other interesting connections between the Thylacine and the dingo. While the Thylacine had survived through the colonial period and into early 20th century in Tasmania, it had become extinct on the Australian mainland around 3,000 years ago, in part due to the arrival of the dingo accompanying Indonesian seafarers to Australia some 5,000 years earlier. However, it is incorrect to just say ‘the dingo did it’! The Thylacine’s mainland demise was caused by a combination of other factors, notably climate change and humans.

So back to the dingo and its current status: I was heartened to read that there is there is a strong dingo conservation movement, following observation and scientific studies that show that the presence of this apex predator is actually beneficial to sheep stations and the environment. Dingoes keep kangaroo and feral animal numbers down resulting in a better biodiversity: indeed, it seems they are vital at maintaining healthy landscapes.

And those that are resisting the present-day Queensland Government edict to exterminate dingoes say: ‘we don’t want to see dingoes go the same way as the Thylacine’. Cutting-edge technology has now allowed us to sequence the DNA of the dingo, and guess what? Dingoes are fundamentally different from domesticated dogs! Indeed, the dingo is an early offshoot of all modern dog breeds, between the wolf and today’s domesticated dogs. As such, we can gain further insight into the dingo’s role in the ecosystem to assist future conservation efforts for what is truly an Australian native animal!

I’m even more pleased that I chose the dingo to illustrate my book’s jacket cover.

Browsing the newspapers last weekend (Weekend Australian April 9-10), I came across an article headed: ‘Cancel Culture: CFMEU challenges Federal Court’s ban on Eureka Flag’. Apparently, the construction union is appealing against a landmark Federal Court ruling banning the Eureka flag on certain building sites. Unions and free speech advocates are denouncing the decision and are supporting the law to stop the ban on the Eureka flag. And yes, you guessed it, the Eureka flag, its history, and potent symbolism is a prominent item in Vernacular Visions!

In my book, I detail how the earliest Australian women’s communal artwork, the Eureka Flag, came to symbolise a particularly momentous occasion in our early history, so much so that in Vernacular Visions, not only is the actual flag as preserved in Ballarat illustrated, but its appearance in a number of folk art works is also reproduced throughout the text.

Considered one of our major and much-loved icons, it was a handful of wives of the miners who lived on the Ballarat goldfields who were responsible for the making of the flag. They used whatever materials came to hand – petticoats, skirts and other cotton and woollen offcuts – an example of the making-do tradition in action!

The Eureka Flag tells the story of the 1854 rebellion by downtrodden gold miners against corrupt officialdom on the Ballarat goldfields in Victoria. Irishman Peter Lalor was the leader of the diggers who swore their allegiance to the Southern Cross flag – the first unofficial Australian standard that defied the authority of Queen Victoria. Raised over the Eureka Stockade, it is generally considered as marking the birth of democracy for all Australians. While its design was based on the Southern Cross, it subsequently came to be known as the Eureka Flag, and it remains a cogent symbol.

I personally find it gratifying to have these Australian folk icons and their stories – the Tasmanian tiger, the dingo and the Eureka Flag – together with others in Vernacular Visions.

About the author

Dr Noris Ioannou is an independent cultural historian, whose writing has focussed on material folk culture and the decorative arts and crafts, particularly the way migrant traditions, place and innovation, have shaped Australia’s identity and heritage. His eight books include: Ceramics in South Australia 1836–1986: from folk to studio pottery; Australian Studio Glass: The Movement, its Makers and Their Art; and, The Barossa Folk: Germanic Furniture and Craft Traditions in Australia.

His latest cultural history is Vernacular Visions: A Folklife History of Australia – art, diversity, story-telling.