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Polixeni Papapetrou, photographer dies at age 57

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Melbourne photographer, Polixeni Papapetrou died yesterday after a five year illness. Her friend remembers her.


Poli died yesterday from breast cancer. The last few days, she was in a coma, but at home in her own bed surrounded by books and works of art including a wonderful, small painting instructing the viewer: “Fuck cancer!”. For months, perhaps more than a year, her small adoring family ran around tending to her and following instructions to make visitors tea, put flowers in vases or retrieve items of clothing from wardrobes. In more recent weeks, instructions included the supply of pain relief from diabolical headaches and nausea. She was brilliant, funny, insightful, erudite and impossibly strong and until a week ago was still match-making friends, setting up visits between women she knew who might like each other – a prophecy she seemingly always got right.

She had an endless supply of exquisite gifts she enjoyed buying online for pals, always perfectly chosen and in recent weeks gave me sparkly Missoni socks and New York Review of Books napkins, printed with famous literary love letters. These gifts were, like all her gifts, perfectly curated.

I talked to Poli a lot in the last year. She called me Jo-Jo, which no-one else has since my childhood. We were excellent texters but even better conversational ramblers as I sat bedside, switching from quite profound questions of creativity to utterly shallow dissections of Oscar gowns or good knickers. We found common ground in our children, the anxieties they provoke, but mostly as the source of love and inspiration. We sometimes gossiped about people we knew in common (she was intolerant of pretention) but mostly Poli extolled people’s virtues, particularly women’s. She was forever telling me about friends I didn’t know but should and why. Sometime in the last couple of weeks I told her that one of things I admired most about her was her extraordinary collection of female friends, this endless source of women who peopled her texts and emails and turned up at the door. Her friends invariably were smart and liked clothes, but as she observed to me: “I kept the friends who were authentic”.

Authenticity was key to even the most casual conversation with Poli. She didn’t mince words or observe meaningless niceties. There wasn’t time. Instead, she seemed to draw on her experience and history to find deeply salient and perceptive perspectives on the smallest things and the biggest. Some of this may have come from wide reading – at one point she was a Buddhist as well as a lawyer and prize-winning photographer – but also from having crossed the cultural barriers of so many different worlds, each influencing the other.

She was profoundly sensitive to beauty and valued it in an old-fashioned way, as well as glamour. She was ferociously female, both feminine and feminist. She spoke the different languages of different worlds: the microscopic detail of motherhood and the complex philosophical language of art. She was very Greek, especially in how she looked, with impeccable, invariably black designer clothes and gold jewellery, her striking long dark hair and classical features. But also, despite her high-pitched giggle and mischievous humour, in her mystical dimension and attraction to the dark. My last glimpse of her was in bed, her eyes directed to a small framed saint and a childhood toy. She understood the deeper, higher questions to which there are many or no answers, but she was also wonderfully grounded in ordinary life, physical states, domesticity and children.

Other people can write about Poli’s art and her grand achievements much better than I can. I will miss her as a friend every day for a long time as I thought of her every day for the past few years, trying to reconcile her vivacity with her prognosis. I could never quite believe it. I told her often that the life she lived had more in its 57 years than many have in much longer lives, with her wisdom and her travels and her art and her friendships.

But mostly what I meant was the love she gave and received. In recent years that love filled the house with the comings and goings of Solomon and Olympia and Robert, as Poli lay there contemplating both her unjust destiny and the bountiful joys she had given birth to or nurtured, in so many forms.

Photo of Polixeni Papapetrou via her website

17 responses to “Polixeni Papapetrou, photographer dies at age 57

  1. This is very sad. Poli was an exceptional photographer and contemporary artist. My greatest sympathies to her family who supported and inspired her work. Poli you’ll be greatly missed.

  2. A splendid article that captures Poli so well. Thank you. I too am broken hearted and cannot really believe she’s gone. A personal loss for so many of us and a profound loss to the Australian photographic community.

  3. Thank heaven for the creative among us like Poli and you Jo-Jo (if I may) your beautifully written and insightful article so sums up the experience of Poli by one of her many women friends. The description of conversations was so apt and how I will miss them.

  4. Dear Joanna, this is a beautiful and spot on piece about Poli. You captured so much of how extraordinary she was as well as how grounded too. Conversations with her could whip from the sublime to the ridiculous, and all of them enjoyable. She’s leaving a huge hole in so many hearts.

  5. So very sad for Polixeni’s family, friends and community. What a loving tribute for a visionary artist. Always loved and admired her work. Vale.

  6. Beautifully written tribute to an extraordinary woman in so many ways. Deepest and profound sympathy to Robert and family. May Polixeni’s legacy live long through her family, friends and Art.

  7. Sending condolances Jo . Heartfelt words a beautiful tribute to a wonderful person and treasured friend . I met Poli once and was struck by her talent depth and humour – FuckCancer-may love and art live on

  8. Joanna, you have captured the essence of the Poli I knew. What a beautiful tribute to a wonderful woman who really did have a knack for friendship, among so many other knacks.

  9. Dear all, a very beautiful text about a brave and fantastic woman. Her intellect, her ways of standing up for life! For sharing the life of art and cancer. My thoughts are with Robert, Olympia and Salomon.
    Anna from Sweden

  10. Thank you sincerely Joanna for the most beautiful tribute to a treasured friend. A truly inspirational woman who touched the lives of many.

  11. Thank you for writing so touchingly about a friend I knew mostly at a distance of 10,000 miles. Seeing her and her family on my one trip to Australia is a memory I treasure, along with her creative work and her words, both indicative of her magnificent and magnanimous wisdom.

  12. Joanna, thank you.
    How powerful are those silent Ghillies, especially dark Magma Man.
    And whenever I wished to cheer a friend or myself on a dull day, I rushed us to the computer screen promising tears of laughter imagining the stubborn conversation of the family group ‘The Holiday Makers’ of the Dreamkeepers. The child, the knees and those socks!
    I did not meet the exceptional Polixeni, however I treasure Robert who was my inspirational heroic lecturer at Monash. How wonderful they found each other. A fine, grand, human pair.
    As Robert said … how sweet, how sweet and now so bitter sweet.
    Tears again and thank you.
    Suzanne van Apeldoorn

  13. Such a tragic loss of a beautiful woman & a fine artist, brave & feisty (her Greek heritage) & I feel terribly sad for her loving family.

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