Author's Note: This was written in late 1994 for Rabelais, the infamous La Trobe University student newspaper. Recalling our brief encounter, years later, I'm struck by how Vali was so focused and vibrant: a real witch. Her humor mirrored her ability to "read" people: "You look emotionally distraught, dear," she joked one afternoon. "Go and read some Rilke." It was probably the single best piece of advice on creativity that anyone has given me. Vali Myers passed from this life on 12 February 2003. She was one of the most evocative women and soulful witches I've met and will be sadly missed by many people.

After a 45-year gipsy walkabout that lead her from the Bohemian environs of Paris to Central Africa and the artistic community of New York, legendary tattooed artist Vali Myers has returned to live in Australia.

Her homecoming was sealed in mid-June 1994 during an emotional public discussion about her life and work at the Valhalla cinema [now the Westgarth], which also saw the screening of two films - the documentary Vali - The Tightrope Dancer (1990) and the first Australian screening of Death in Port Jackson Hotel (1980). Myers had also been the subject of Vali - The Witch of Positano (1966). Several weeks later her second Australian exhibition opened at the Emerald Hill Gallery in South Melbourne.

Vali's exhibited work is a passionate search for the expression of pains and pleasures of life, the revelation of a self-renewing mythopoeic imagination. Meeting Vali personally is definitely a memorable experience - she is humble, emotionally honest, and full of a perceptive, wry humor.

Born on August 2nd 1930 in Sydney, her passion for drawing came early. Neglecting her lessons at a bush school near Macquarie, Vali drew pictures of black ravens in her notebooks. She came to Melbourne when 11, part of a family of two sisters and a brother. Her mother gave up a promising career as a violinist to raise the family, while her father was a marine officer. "Melbourne was very conservative in the 1940s. Life was difficult, but I loved to dance," Vali remembers. She left home at 14, worked in factories, lived in St. Kilda [a bohemian Melbourne suburb] and later became the leading dancer for the Melbourne Modern Ballet Company, before deciding at age 19 to go to Paris, France.

For three years Vali lived on the streets of St. Germain-des-Pres, mingling with the artistic community, gypsies and street kids displaced by World War 2. Her near poverty was captured in stark photographs taken by Dutch photographer Ed van der Elsken, who published a book titled Love on the Left Bank (1958). "I had just planned to dance, but it wasn't glamorous. Many of the kids I knew didn't survive or went to jail. But there were these amazing black students at university who could dance incredibly. I began taking opium, rare for a woman as there were no drugs during 1949-51 until the American G.I. bill, and drawing."

Living the bohemian lifestyle to the hilt, she met gipsies in 1950 including the famous jazz guitarist Djano Reinhardt, who bought her coffee. Vali knew his wife and briefly looked after his son. She met other expatriates, including poet Ginsberg in 1955, dismissing him as a rich American. "Everything was happening in the cafes where I would dance. I met Jean-Paul Sartre and Jean Cocteau."

Vali was wasting away, becoming skin and bone, inhabiting a nihilistic landscape, plagued by suicidal thoughts and constantly in trouble with the near-fascist police, who were cracking down on vagabonds and gipsies on the streets. She was placed on an Interpol file, arrested and placed in jail. Cocteau saved her from deportation and Vali escaped to Italy with lover Rudi Rappold, an artist from Vienna. "At 21 I felt so old: I had done a lot of living already."

1958 was to change Vali's life forever. She found a refuge from the cyclone, a hidden valley surrounded by 1000 foot cliffs on the Southern coast of Italy called Il Porto. This was her home for over 30 years - and the home for over 100 animals that became her companions and guiding daimons. "I love what's wild. It's untouched. People behave like animals, but animals are never stupid and kill unnecessarily like people do. I've always loved them and they form an important part of my art." Vali looked after over 40 dogs, 50 chickens, donkeys, a pet fox, and other animals, fighting the Italian government to get the region protected on a World Wildlife listing, granted recently. "They wanted to get rid of me, to use the areas as a source of building materials. The Mafia are honorable gentlemen compared to the police. But I kept fighting - you have to fight for what you believe in. We have a beautiful valley - the largest owl population in Southern Italy. All of the wild animals are returning."

The same year, her work was published to critical acclaim in George Plimpton's Paris Review journal, the same issue as a perceptive interview with Ernest Hemingway. Plimpton wrote: "She is the symbol and plaything of the restless, confused, vice-enthralled, demi-monde that . . . was the personalization of something torn and loose and deep down primitive in all of us."

Plimpton became her patron, introducing her to Andy Warhol, who advised her to stop selling originals and sell prints instead. Salvidor Dali admired her work immensely. Vali revealed, "I hate the art gallery scene - I feel closer to musicians and writers like Kafka, Rilke and Swinburne, plus the galleries charge exorbitant prices. I had to sell work in order to eat and look after my animals, so I would go to New York's Chelsea Hotel and sell them. Selling is like hunting. I spend time with each individual buyer - I like the personal touch." It was here that Vali met poet Ira Cohen, actor Peter Weller, and musicians Deborah Harry, Mariane Faithful, and Patti Smith.

Vali's distinctive work draws upon Indian, Irish Book of Kells, and Celtic-Pagan influences. "I work on each painting for a long time, some take almost two years, so I remember them all. Most of my work uses the finest English water-color and gold leaf, but now I just work with Chinese ink and a goose feather pen nib. I'm self taught - I naturally use fine technique. I go deep into myself to be distinctive - I gave up using drugs after my youth. The art just comes out. When I feel happy I dance, when I'm sad I paint. I don't justify these feelings - I'm not a thinker. My art has a lot of pain but I'm not afraid of anything - I need to be creative. If there wasn't Spirit in life, you'd be a zombie."

An embodiment of the Wild Women as inspired creator/nurturer archetype, Vali was both passionate and pragmatic about growing women's awareness and paganism. "I'm not a feminist but it's truly wonderful, there's a realization of growth. You need to just do what you feel like, to have a sense of destiny. During the exhibition, young women come to me, revealing their daily problems. I tell them to get back up - life isn't easy, but those quiet moments of peace are worth it. I use the mythical Madonna figure a lot in my art. The center of life is female - we all come from our mothers. I've always drawn women or female spirits. I feel deeply about this - who gives a damn about some guy on a cross? My mother's creativity was smothered after she married and raised a family, but she was supportive of me - even my father expected me to carry on in her footsteps. I prefer to have no kids but lots of animals."

In 1992 Vali suddenly had a seizure and was rushed to hospital. Despite being the first time she had been ill in 30 years, she came close to death. "A close friend of mine, a Sicilian Don, rushed to my bedside immediately when he heard. That's a real friendship I value - forget love! I knew I had to return home. I'd tried before but still had that restless gipsy spirit in me. Coming back in 1993 I didn't know what to expect. People here are different from everywhere else - sensitive and open-minded. If you hate Melbourne, you should live in New York or Naples for a few years. The sky is so open - you can breathe freely and the Southern Cross is beautiful. Being back has given me the strength to work again and live live 100%. I'm 63 but I'm not going to live life like an invalid. I'll be so angry the day I die - I love living so much, but I only have so much time left to live. I plan to work on another "Moby Dick" painting over the next two years."

Vali has several other projects planned during this time. "I'm hoping to publish a book of diaries and prints of my work. My final wish is to have a museum of the remaining 32 originals of my work to leave to the women of Australia."

Her last accolades were for her audience. "I distil over 60 years of my life into my work, years of intense, extreme personal experiences. When somebody comes to see the paintings and diaries it makes the struggle and sacrifice all worth it."