CRaig and I locked eyes on the streets of Sydney a few days after Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras in 2001. I was 23 years old, had just arrived in Australia from Peru, and was still healing from the emotional scars of my conservative Catholic upbringing.
To me, Craig seemed like a man from another planet: lean, powerful build, curly blonde hair, and a smile that could light up the whole town. My English was rudimentary, but our shared sense of humor cut through the language barrier.
That evening, Craig drove me home in his hippy van. He told me he works as a graphic designer but dreams of being an artist. Before I got out of the van, he gave me a tender kiss as a sign of his love.
A few days later, I moved into Craig’s shared apartment in Tamarama. He had an affinity for nature and could often be found talking to bugs that crawled up his arm. The Pacific Ocean was just a stone’s throw from our house and he loved to body surf in the offing with the surfers. He encouraged me to overcome my fear of the ocean, teaching me how to read the tides and get under big waves.
Craig himself was an introvert, but he didn’t mind me bringing new acquaintances back to the apartment, and together we began to build a soul family.
Around this time, Craig decided to quit his job and pursue art full time, and we lived on white bread with Vegemite, cheese and tomato while Craig tried to make a name for himself.
In 2002 Craig had his first solo exhibition and in 2004 he won Australia’s most prestigious portrait award, the Archibald Prize. Charcoal drawing of Yoln actor David GulpililThat changed our lives. We were able to buy the apartment next door and in 2008 the financial crisis hit art sales so we moved to South America for a while, living in Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Aires. Despite the crisis in South America, people continued to make art, go out, get together and enjoy life.
When we returned to Sydney in 2012, our relationship was at a crossroads: Craig longed for a life closer to nature, while I, a city person, wanted to return to Buenos Aires. We discussed the possibility of a long-distance relationship, but this potential separation weighed on me, and I agreed to join him on a research trip to the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales.
One afternoon after our arrival, we left the coast and headed inland, through Byron’s hinterland, to look at properties for sale. We climbed out of the van on a ridge overlooking the mountains. Craig was transfixed by the view. The garden was full of old car parts, bottles, and overgrown lantana. The red-brick house was small, with low ceilings and battered walls. But Craig was smitten, and he was adamant that this was the place he wanted to live and die. Through his artist’s eyes, I could see the challenges the house would pose. So, cautiously, I decided to trust his vision.
We moved into a tent under a bay shed on the property. I woke up one night to find a large rat gnawing through my netting and feasting in my bread bag. I was shocked. I confided in Craig how lonely I felt living there. Ever the optimist, he reassured me: “Don’t worry, my love. The people will come.”
Not long after, one day, I heard Craig scream from inside the shed. I ran in and found two thick, gray-and-white pythons on the beams above us, intertwined, swaying back and forth, writhing powerfully. “They’re fighting,” I gasped. “They’re making love!” Craig replied. We laughed. The snakes were totally unaware of us, so even as we dropped to the floor and continued to wrestle, I forgot I was scared. Whatever these brazen creatures were doing, there was something sensual and passionate and mysterious about it. As Craig and I stood there together, mesmerized, I knew I wanted our lives to always be intertwined.
Then I began to realize the beauty of country life. We cut down the lantana for a vegetable patch. The punch-marked house became our home, a place to attract friends and family. By day we painted in Craig’s converted shed, and by night we gathered around the campfire, shared meals in the kitchen, and danced. The loneliness I’d feared vanished.
In January 2022, Craig passed away at home from COVID-19 complications. He was 53 years old. I still feel a sense of loss that I cannot overcome. But Craig left me with the greatest gift: a life intertwined with nature and a community that helps me work through my grief every day. I see him in the colorful sunsets, the rustling leaves, and the giggling kookaburras echoing through the bushes. I believe Craig’s spirit remains in the natural world around me.
Portrait of LoveA documentary about Roberto by Molly Reynolds CraigThe relationship is as follows: Screening at Dendy Newtown June 10th in Sydney At Cinema Nova June 11th in Melbourne Darwin’s Deckchair Cinema June 21 and Byron Theatre, Byron Bay June 22
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