On Monday 3rd May, an aboriginal legend was lost.
Greeny Purvis Petyarre, a man of prestige and honour, an aged boss man of Alhalkere country in
Utopia passed away at the Alice Springs hospital. I'd like to make this an obituary of sorts rather than give you a simple, albeit respectful, death announcement. So here is a little about Greeny from my personal bank of knowledge. Firstly I'll just mention again though that we have express permission from Greeny's family to keep using his name and showing his photos which in cases of other deaths might be taboo.
I can't actually remember the first time I met Greeny, perhaps I was a young teenager helping dad to collect paintings at Utopia. I'd like to say I can vividly remember it, but I can say I won't forget my image of him. To me, he wasn't a man of many words but behind those twinkling eyes and sparkling smile was somehow always the message you needed. He was that kind of man. His eyes would gaze longingly at something, something I couldn't see; the wisdom perhaps that came with 80 odd years of living a traditional aboriginal life in the remote desert of Utopia. I felt remarkably comforted and happy in his presence yet sometimes I was nervous I might offend him by simply speaking to him - he was too prestigious in my mind. On these occasions I would ask the women of his family if Greeny would like to sign his paintings - not at all wanting to demean his intelligence as in hindsight it may have looked. They would nod and then call over to him on my behalf and instruct him to do so. He sometimes beat them to it and looked up to me with a big smile. ‘
Yeh', he’d say, as if wondering why I hadn't simply asked him; he sitting right there in front of me. I'd usually sputter something unintelligible back and laugh at myself trying to ease the awkward moment.
Greeny was often found sitting gracefully on an old mattress, looking slightly disheveled in a dirty white shirt half tucked into his long pants, good sturdy cowboy boots afoot and under the shade of his well worn akubra hat. This was possibly the same hat I accidentally spilt a container of white paint all over once - while still worn by Greeny of course! He just looked at me and laughed on this occasion, softly and unassuming while I frantically tried to clean it all up - polishing the splatter off his boots as well and apologizing profusely. Well, despite the latter, this is my treasured image of him.
Aside from being an elder of his country Alhalkere, '
the last of the old men at Boundary Bore' Lucy Kunoth told me on Wednesday, Greeny was also a very respected artist which is of course how I knew him. By respected I particularly mean by dealers of aboriginal art, or those who could immediately appreciate the essence of his work next to the profiles of Minnie Pwerle and his aunty Emily Kame Kngwarreye. He was like a secret - his work wasn't the craving of the major collectors or exhibitors but it was someone gallery owners would fondly enquire about, whose work added a sophistication and subtle passion to a gallery even if it were just the one piece. I recommend visiting our website to learn more about his
paintings and
artist profile.
As mentioned previously, Greeny passed away from an infection related to his dementia; bed sores the hospital informed us. I had been with his daughter
Jedda Purvis, and niece
Jeannie Mills, when the call came that he was very ill. We went straight down to the hospital and joined some other family members who had congregated there. Some nurses and a translator began to explain the situation so that everyone would understand what was happening. Before being admitted to the hospital, Greeny had spent awhile living at an aged care facility called Old Timers in Alice Springs due to his dementia. We were told that the doctors decided not to perform surgery on him because he was too weak. He would die within a few days and the nurses would see that he wasn’t afraid or in pain until then. It seemed a strange notion to
know such a thing, and he looked so peaceful asleep in his bed. I spoke to
Gloria Petyarre the following day and passed on the message. She looked at me as though it was absurd and even laughed it off. ‘
He’s not dying! I saw him at the hospital when they brought him in. They wheeled him right past me. Yeah! I waved at him, he’s good!’ she insisted upon me with a big smile. My thoughts turned to her when the news came on Tuesday…how she would cope with that. I also learned that Greeny’s wife
Kathleen Purvis Kemarre still hadn’t returned from Adelaide from her heart surgery, with daughter
Judy. That must have been hard for them.
Greeny was buried on Friday 21st May at Boundary Bore in Utopia, ‘
on the other side of the windmill, next to his brother’ Lucy Kunoth told me. I couldn’t make it there, and the day had been very wet, although I really wanted to attend. The funeral was held under the shelter of the basketball courts at Arlparra Store before a procession of cars followed his body to Boundary Bore for the burial. I will make sure I go to Boundary Bore to pay my respects when I next visit Utopia.
Below are two of my favourite photos of Greeny. The first is with my dad, Tim Jennings and in the second, Greeny is amused by a pair of children's glasses from a show bag. The other photo shows the windmill near Boundary Bore.
Mbantua Gallery will have a team in Brisbane from Tuesday 22nd - Friday 25th June showcasing the works by aboriginal artists Lena Pwerle, Jeannie Mills and Gloria Petyarre. 
