‘She took my door off the hinges’: How one mother handled her teenage daughter

Artist Bronwyn Bancroft, 68, is a founding member of Boomalli Aboriginal Artists Co-operative. Her daughter, Rubyrose, 26, is also an artist. The pair are very alike, but they haven’t always seen eye to eye.

Rubyrose: I grew up in Balmain [in inner-west Sydney]. Both my older siblings, Ella and Jack, moved out while I was still young, so it was always just me and Mum. We had the kooky artist’s house. Mum painted the entire outside jacaranda-blue. There was a jungle-green porch and red steps with painted goannas climbing up and down them.

She’s very eccentric. I always knew that I  had a different upbringing to my peers. I went to Birchgrove Public School, where Mum would do free art classes. I remember being in year 1 and the big year 6 kids telling me, “We love your mum, she’s so fun,” because she wore these crazy outfits. She went through a kaftan phase. Right now, she’s into purple velvet.

I was so embarrassed by her. I’d say, “Can’t you just be normal and wear beige? And not be an artist and not be outspoken?” As a kid, I pushed away from it and didn’t want to be anything like her. I did want to be an artist, though, just more conventional.

I didn’t get her art. She’d spend 80 hours on a painting and ask me, “What do you think?” I’d go, “Oh, yeah, cool. You missed a spot.” But now, having been to art school and having my own career, I think, “Holy f—! This woman is incredible: the detail, the colours, the use of mixed media!”

Mum was 41 when she had me. When I was going through puberty, she was going through menopause, so it was a very tense household. I was a horrible child, always running around and nicking things. I  used to drink her gin and replace it with water. I was 16 and had a boy in my room; Mum came home early, opened the door and said, “What are you doing?” I said, “I’m making your birthday present.” She said, “My birthday was last month!”

‘We had big blow-ups … I once slammed my bedroom door and she got a screwdriver and took it off its hinges.’

Rubyrose Bancroft

We had big blow-ups – and Mum has a thing about not slamming doors. She’d say, “You don’t do that in my house.” I once slammed my bedroom door and she got a screwdriver and took it off its hinges.

We’re Bundjalung people, so Mum bought some land in Budjerahgum [in northern NSW, part of the traditional, ancestral lands of the Bundjalung]. She was really set on me having that connection with culture and Country, and so, every school holidays, she’d take me up there.

One of the reasons we’re so close is that before I turned 18, she was my mother. After that, she became my friend. And I realise I’m exactly like her.

I’ll call her about my art. I might ask her, “What blue is this?” Or she gives me tips on stretching a loose canvas. When I was younger, anything I’d paint she’d love, but now I want and appreciate her critical opinion.

Mum moved up to Byron eight years ago and has a shar pei-dingo called Amber. We take her out for early-morning beach walks. It means a lot to me to have that quality time. She’s at a time in her life where she doesn’t want a partner; she’s really content.

I love my mum – she’s one of my favourite people in the world – but if you’d asked me 10 years ago, I’d have said, “Whatever, that woman’s literally so mean to me.”

Bronwyn: Rubyrose had a pretty rough start. She actually died during birth from pulmonary hypertension: her lungs filled with blood. A specialist at King George V saved her life. We had  11 days in ICU and they told me she’d be blind, deaf and unable to speak properly. But she was OK. I gave her a bit more latitude than I did my elder children because she was my miracle baby.

She was a precocious teenager with a lot going on. She was frustrated about having to live in two different places – staying with her dad in the Blue Mountains and then coming back to me, this flamboyant artist, in Balmain. She felt disconnected. Eventually, we moved into a studio in [nearby] Lilyfield. We were all a bit loose then, to be quite honest. I was menopausal; she did really well to survive.

I came home early one day and could sense that somebody was in the house. I opened the door and saw this head sticking up from the covers and it wasn’t Ruby’s. I thought, “What the hell?” He scooted within seconds, but she lost her privileges and my trust, which was probably punishment enough.

One of our most dramatic moments was when she threw a small, turquoise filing cabinet at me; I shut the door just before it hit me. She was angry because I’d gone into her room when she had her mates over. That was a profound aggression that made me go, “Holy shit, what’s going on here?” We had to navigate that. That’s when parents often give up on their kids and I was not gonna do that. I knew there were things going on in her life.

We identify as Bundjalung people. It’s always hard work when you’re the only Aboriginal-identifying kid in the school, which is why I did all the art lessons there: I wanted the kids to know a black perspective about their area. Ruby couldn’t read – both my girls have dyslexia – so I took her back on Country. I made her promise the teacher she’d read lots of books during the three weeks we were away. She came back a reader.

There’ll be many calls from her over the day; she worries about the tiniest little things. Navigating the world as a young, sensitive woman is difficult. She was on that awful ADHD drug, Ritalin, but came off it. The withdrawal was huge, but then she was better. Her sister taught her yoga and she gets out into nature, which helps. She’ll have my unconditional support as long as I’m alive.

What do we fight about? Me being overprotective. Like when she goes out and gets a Lime bike back from the city by herself at 11pm after having been drinking. We’ll walk away from each other for five minutes, then come back and have a hug.

She worked as a studio assistant with me for ages and did her National Art School piece up at my rainforest property during COVID. We like to go to the beach and bush together, but we also like to stay home watching movies.

I’m trying to help her navigate her career. She’s a very talented artist and there’s a lot of  depth in her work; her approach echoes the life she’s living. I’m extremely proud of her.