Buntie Wills Therapist: A Mosaic

By Book Group

Buntie Wills was a psychotherapist and, for some, a spiritual
teacher who practised from Landseer Studios at Cunningham Place in St. Johns Wood, London, for over forty-five years.

This is not so much a definitive book about her therapeutic method, but more a mosaic of personal memories and tributes by the many who new her. It is an attempt to capture something of her essence and the richness experienced by those who met with her for friendship, therapy or in one of the many groups that she facilitated.

Inspiration will also be found in these pages by those unfamiliar with the unique ways of working used by this remarkable woman as well as by those who knew of her but until now have not availed themselves of a copy of this wonderful tribute and ‘thank you’ for her contribution to life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archive Publishing
• Release date: May 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781906289379

Book preview

Buntie Wills

Therapist

a mosaic

First Published in Great Britain in 1990 by The Buntie Wills Foundation

This edition published in Great Britain in 2016

By Archive Publishing, Dorset, England

© 2016 Archive Publishing

A CIP Record for this book is available from

The British Cataloguing in Publication data office

ISBN 978-1-906289-35-5 (eBook)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted at any time or by any means digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

www.archivepublishing.co.uk

www.transpersonalbooks.com

eBook created by Bluewave Publishing

Now that my house is burned down

I have a much better view of the moon.

Zen Poem

Contents

Introduction

Contributors

Acknowledgements

I About Buntie

II Her Work with Individuals

Beginnings

Getting There

Waiting

Starting Sessions

Stories

The Work

The Unorthodox Therapist

The Teacher

Ending Sessions

III About Groups

IV On Life and Death

INTRODUCTION

Buntie Wills was a psychotherapist and, for some, a spiritual teacher who practised from Landseer Studios at 10a Cunningham Place in St. Johns Wood, London, from the 1950s until her death at the end of 1985.

This is not a definitive book about her therapeutic method. It is a mosaic of personal memories and tributes through which we have tried to capture something of the richness experienced by those who knew her.

The group, which has produced this book, came together in response to a request in the first newsletter of the new Buntie Wills Foundation. We were self-selected individuals who began meeting in November 1986 for a variety of reasons and with a shared motive - to say thank you.

We faced the seemingly impossible task of creating a book "by committee’ from the many contributions we received. Then the idea of a mosaic was taken up, giving us a way of putting together these pieces to make what we trust has become a whole picture.

We are deeply grateful to have been part of that process. We hope that the book will touch the reader as much as we find its creation has enriched us.

The Books Group of the Buntie Wills Foundation

Peggie Brown, Charles Chadwyck-Healey, Annie Elkins, Lois Graessle, Vicki Mackenzie, Mildred Masheder, Dee Purrett-Smith, Jean Simpson, Robert Smith, Carol Spero.

CONTRIBUTORS

This book has been made possible by contributions from some of the people who knew and worked with Buntie Wills. Several times over the past four years the Books Group sent out requests for remembrances. Some of the pieces we received have been edited to fit the format of the book. It was not intended to alter the meaning and should you feel this has happened in your case, we offer our apologies.

Frankie Armstrong, Di Booth-Jones, Peggie Brown, Melinda Caink, Charles Chadwyck-Healey, Barbara Davis, Mary Edkins, Catherine Ensor, Jane Evans, Ros Finlay, Joan Garrett-Goodyear, Lois Graessle, Gabrielle Boole, Diana Bracebridge, Bridget Browne, Lorraine Craig, Hazel Davies, Eva Davis, Annie Elkins, Mary Ann Ephgrave, Mary Evans, Sanchia Gainsborough, Penny Gill, Tai Chigetsu Hazard, Lindie Jones, Kathleen Browne Kratochwil, Vicki Mackenzie, Jon Maddison, Mildred Masheder, Shauna Mahlo Craxton, Dee Purrett-Smith, Jackie Robarts, Molly Robins, Martin Robinson M.E.H.S., Jean Simpson, Carol Spero, Gillian Thoday, Philippa Vick, Patrick Worth, Catherine Yarrow, Hetty Kothari, Meg Leng, Catherine Mackwood , Maggie, Noreen Matthews, Eleanor Murray, Jeremy Quin, Alexandra Roberts , Christina Robinson, Gerhard Rosenberg, Philip Seddon, Robert Smith, John Strachan, Susanna Vermaase, Joy Winterbottom.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

We would like to thank those who have helped us to prepare the book for publication: Lorraine Craig, Mary Ann Ephgrave, Joan Garrett-Goodyear, Martin Robinson and Piers Worth for their comments; Claire Massy for administrative help; Geoff Green for design; Alison Moss for supervising the printing; and Tracey Ayre, Lisa Jaglo and Peter Miles for computer support.

We have also appreciated the practical support and encouragement of the Trustees of the Foundation.

The photograph of 10a Cunningham Place is reproduced by the kind permission of the Greater London Photograph Library.

Most of the quotations at the ends of chapters, were used by Buntie Wills. We have attributed these wherever that has been possible.

1912 - 1985

I

ABOUT BUNTIE

When the Buntie book was first thought of I wrote, as others did, a few paragraphs about what she had meant to me as a life-long friend, which at the time seemed to be all I needed to share. Then, gradually, it dawned on me that as I was the only person who had known about most aspects of her life since she was fifteen I would have to write more, for no-one else was in the position of being able to draw the many threads of her life together. So, I had to start at the beginning.

Buntie - Phyllis as she was then - and I met on our first day at the Willesden School of Art, then in Priory Road, Kilburn in London. This encounter sticks in my memory. I can still visualize her, a sturdy figure with a thickly-freckled face and short dark hair, fully equipped to embark instantly on her life’s work: ranged in the pocket of her school blazer were a row of perfectly sharpened pencils, a notebook, a pen, a ruler, in one hand a T-square and in the other set-squares. Nadia, another girl who also became a great friend, and I played the unwise virgins who had come totally unprepared and Buntie, quickly summing up the situation, graciously supplied each of us with a pencil and offered the loan of other equipment if needed. Ungratefully I put her down as smug and awful, but as time passed and first impressions were modified, we all settled down into our particular roles. Buntie’s was to become the jester, the one who made us laugh most with her sophisticated jokes - and the one who worked the hardest. She was popular with everyone, students and staff alike, but in general she contrived to evade close contact with individuals.

Almost from the start my friendship with Buntie was threaded with laughter. Humour was part of her nature and something we shared, for we both had mothers who were able to laugh at vicissitudes, in spite of the many tribulations they, and we too, had to face, and our upbringing had a similar light touch. Later, I came to understand that, for Buntie, apparent gaiety was her way of concealing the deep seriousness and vulnerability which she allowed to emerge only in close personal relationship.

In and out of college, work for her was paramount, and she prevailed on me to go in our free time on sketching expeditions into the countryside. I particularly recall a snow-covered sojourn at Kenwood House, trying to draw with frozen fingers details of the facade with its Doric columns while the sky darkened and snowflakes soaked the pages of our sketch books. I was infuriated to have been dragged out there on such a day, the more so because I knew she was right to struggle against inertia and the elements. Later I discovered it was part of her nature to face up to every challenge and one of the reasons why she was so successful in everything she attempted. Such excursions were also the opportunity for her to talk on very serious subjects such as philosophy and ethics: I would have preferred to discuss rather more frivolous topics and could not have been a very responsive companion.

Probably it was during one of these outings that Buntie told me how it came about that she had chosen art as her career. Partly it was due to the influence of her idolised older brother, himself an artist. But also at the age of the thirteen she wrote to Frank Brangwyn, then regarded as the greatest mural artist and etcher of his day and later knighted, saying how much she admired his work and asking for a photograph of himself. He sent her a very handsome one with a letter saying that, ‘If you are going to be an artist, you must work very hard from nature and not look too much on the works of man,’ with, in his turn, a somewhat peremptory request for a photograph of her. It is unlikely that she would have complied for she was always very shy about her appearance. But he was a romantic-looking man and his name was often woven into the conversation; there is little doubt that his advice influenced her decision.

Later on it emerged that, had Buntie not decided to make art her career, she would have gone on to university to read science. Her annual reports from Hendon County School show that there was no subject at which she did not excel, and they always included impressive comments on her progress and conduct. But once she had decided at the age of fifteen to be an artist, she had taken the money her parents had given her to pay her school fees for the following year and booked herself in at the Willesden School of Art. They did not discover this until some time later, no doubt when enquiries were made about her non-appearance at school. It was quite typical of her to assert her independence in such an unequivocal way.

Once at art school, because she was still under sixteen she was obliged to incorporate an English class into her curriculum, which was how it came about that she was chosen to play the lead in the end-of-term play, as Mrs. Disraeli. Partly perhaps because of the theatrical influence in her family background but also because she did well anything she attempted, she gave a memorable performance, coping coolly with such emergencies as finding her bustle attached to the trellis at the back of the stage from which she had to play a passionate love scene; and then, flinging herself in despair on to a sofa, only to find herself gliding across the stage and into the wings. The audience was entranced, and she received the ensuing laughter and applause with admirable aplomb.

Then there was the annual Fancy Dress Ball. One of my friends and I dressed up as Oxford and Cambridge dolls, the usual Boat Race favours before the war. Wearing huge dark blue and light blue wigs and stiff tulle skirts, we were drawn round the hall in a small rocking boat, an early toy of my brother’s. We were a sensation. But we did not win the prize, for behind us walked a small rotund figure in sombre black, the lace-veiled head bearing a jewelled coronet: Buntie - as the widowed Queen Victoria. Needless to say, she stole the scene and won the prize.

After Buntie died a mutual friend at art school wrote to me, reminding me of a project she and ‘Phyllis’ had undertaken. Maggie wrote, ‘About the end of our art school days, my brother took me to his rugger club at Osterley and showed me the dark old wooden pavilion and asked me if I could brighten it up.’ I was rather appalled, but thought that if only Phyllis would help it could be done. She agreed, and we planned a frieze all round the room and started to work. It took a long time, and she had to come some distance from Golders Green to Osterley - by train and bus and then a long walk - in all weathers. Typically Phyllis did almost all the design work; I merely filled in acres of flat colour. It certainly brightened up the old place. Phyllis was the most obliging person and would do anything she could to help us.

Buntie’s firm intention was to earn her own living as soon as possible so that she could be of help to her parents and no longer dependent on them. She worked very hard and within two years had passed the Advanced Drawing Group Examination with distinction, and had assembled a portfolio full of diverse examples of the kind of work she had discovered would be in demand in commercial art studios. Unknown to anyone, she set off to look for an acceptable job, and almost immediately was snapped up at a display studio run by a despotic but discerning woman - known as Mrs. P. - who thereafter shamelessly exploited her ingenuity and capacity for hard work. Buntie, however, would not allow herself to be exploited for long and bided her time, becoming indispensable and accumulating experience in dealing with a variety of clients, at the same time assembling a more professional portfolio. She was so competent and reliable that when Mrs. P. had to spend a period in hospital she left Buntie in sole charge of the studio and workshop, as several scribbled notes from the sickbed make clear. Then, when the time was ripe, Buntie and three friends who were also desperate to get away from the tyranny of Mrs. P. all resigned at the same time and set up a workshop off the Euston Road under the name of ‘Creative Arts.’ They had also appropriated some of the most valuable of Mrs. P.’s clients and these provided the basis of the enterprise, which immediately proceeded to flourish.

Her staunchest ally was Phyllis Sale, a delightful character whose generosity together with Buntie’s small capital made the move possible, and it was their amicable relationship and the congenial atmosphere they created that impressed me when eventually I joined them there. Later on, before Creative Arts moved to Cunningham Place, she left to settle in the country where Buntie often visited her - I too sometimes - and they remained life-long friends.

During her time at Mrs. P’s Buntie had met a brilliant Scandinavian artist who was working in London for a brief period. They had a lot in common, fell in love and talked seriously about marriage. For some time Buntie hovered between acceptance and doubt, but in the end admitted to herself, and