A Eulogy for Judy

I would like to talk you through a few notable memories I have of Judy and hopefully awaken in you, the memories of what we all loved about our incredible friend and darling Judy.

I remember fondly the times we used to spend at Judy's house drawing in the Judio (her studio), skipping rope in the car port, blowing bubbles by the driveway, climbing her huge and beautiful pine in the backyard, and playing in the old chicken coop, where she invited the local McGuinness Drive kids to use her repurposed chicken coop as a street clubhouse. Their inscribed chicken boxes and nick knacks left behind for us.

She saw the power in nature and gave it like a gift to everyone she knew. She had meticulously created a moss garden with a view from the kitchen, which she always maintained beautifully along with the story that there were fairies in there along with fairy wrens. I remember watching the fairy wren's bathing in the bird-bath she had set up amongst the moss. Sometimes Bianca and I would stand out there beneath the huge Fuchsia bush picking the purple flowers and sucking the nectar out from their insides.

Our entire life visiting her home was a magical time. She rejoiced in all the creative things and not with exception to those things that were slightly odd or ugly.

Though our ‘darling’ Judy always had an air of glamour and sophistication about her, she also had a surprising passion for the wicked and weird. She was the kind of person who would buy the bent in cans at the supermarket because they were different.

For example when I was born she bought me the plush toys of the monsters from Maurice Sendak's 'Where The Wild Things Are', much to the shock of my mother who asked that they not come home with the new baby... So they became our favourite friends and toys to visit whenever we were on Judy holidays.

On multiple occasions, Judy spoke of how she’d always loved the idea of being in a motorcycle gang, and I remember imagining her riding through the Southern Highlands, wind blowing her hair back with a mad grin spread across her face.

 When I had thought I’d kept my first romantic relationship with another girl under wraps from my family, Judy proclaimed to family and friends, her excitement that I might follow in the footsteps of Germaine Greer. I remember thinking about how lucky I was to have the support of such an open-minded woman from another era.

She took us to art galleries, bought us art materials. She had so many wacky ideas and inventions to engage children. When we were kids she made Bianca and I into paper dolls by photographing us in our undies, printing, and cutting out our silhouettes so that we could then fashion paper clothes for ourselves to dress up and play dolls.

 She always joked of what the guys at Kodak must think of her developing photos of her grandchildren standing half naked. "Someone might arrest your mad grandmother" That wicked sense of humour delivered with a wicked smile.

She was sharp witted and critical and Judy always had her favourites. Though she was kind enough to switch back and forth between us so that we all had a turn in the warmth of her admiration.

At times growing up I was the talented artist and creator, and Bianca was the bored child, too energetic and boisterous for Judy’s liking. At other times Bianca had it all together in Judy's eyes, and so I was referred to as "the Waif". Coined for my constant travelling and reluctance to settle down and commit to something. But then just as swiftly I would be in the right again, an intrepid traveler with so many talents and gifts and oh so worldly.

She made the best desserts. One time she served Adam and I, a whole bowl of freshly whipped cream with berries on top. And growing up we lusted after the hot homemade caramel sauce she made for us over ice-cream.

She taught me to draw and continued my love for art making and creating my entire life. She helped me make my first and only etching in primary school, winning me a printmaking prize at the Robertson show.

She fostered great creativity and imagination in all children. She invited us to explore our creative potential through so many mediums which inspired us to always be innovating. From our drawer in the studio filled with an array of papers, creative materials, bits and bobs, to continually taking us out to galleries from such a young age, I am so deeply grateful for having had someone like Judy believe in me and nurture such an understanding of myself and of my love and expression of art.

I always felt she was so proud of my art and encouraged me to keep making always.

She hung two of my school artworks framed in prize positions on her walls, amongst great artworks and great taste. 

 And with each visit I recall her encouragement as she gushed that everyone commented on my paintings much more frequently than those of The Greats filling the rest of her home. Thrilled that I shared some of her gift.

I don't think I would be such a passionate creative if it hadn't been for her support and motivation. I don't think I would have known where to start. And from my relationship with her I have had the luck to take so many opportunities and learnings away.

  It is taking me a long time to find light in a world without our dear Judy, but as I sort through the bits and pieces, the messages and meaning I find in all she left behind, I’ve found that what speaks to me are her choices to live bravely. Like a message shared only 2 months ago on her facebook page says: "Life is short, Take the trip, Buy the shoes, Eat the cake"

There’s one story I need to close with, in honour of clearing the air regarding a little fib I told Judy, and never came clean on.

It goes like this. One day, we were walking up to see Judy from our house (two doors down) on McGuinness drive (or celebrity drive as Judy liked to call it) and Mummy and I were playing silly buggers, shoving each other playfully on the road. It might surprise you but my mother can get pretty boisterous when prompted and is a LOT stronger than I. During our game she flung me off the road and into the unkept nature strip. Which would have been quite a comfortable landing, had it not been for all the stinging nettle hidden amongst the tall grass. And I was now covered in it and moments away from being expected for tea at Judy’s.

I was crying cause of all the stinging, but my facial expression didn’t compare to Mummy’s, which was one of absolute fear, 40% because she felt really bad for pushing her daughter into a stinging peril, and 60% because she was deathly worried about being labelled a bad mother by Judy. So through my tears I said I’d take the blame. Arriving at Juju's with tears in my eyes, I explained sadly that I’d jumped into a patch of stinging nettle unawares. Judy looked at me and quickly remarked “You STUPID GIRL!” and my eyes wandered to my mother who bashfully winced a smile for me and mouthed “thank you”.

Judy was quick to judge, but you always knew where you stood with her, and she was incredibly proud and loving of all her friends and family. I’m going to miss her so much. All sides of her.