As the year turns, my focus in the studio is laser-sharp on taking stock, tidying up, and ordering supplies. It is a temporary phenomenon that evaporates in early January as effortlessly as the morning mist.

My focus has been so sharp on that task of cleaning up that I found time to throw together a short studio tour. This shows my nice, once clean, new and tidy studio is a glorious mess once more and the task of taming it forgotten momentarily.

Over Christmas,. due to the confines of Covid, I was left to my own devices and free from the seasonal conventions of food with company. I had instead, the pleasure of scouring the fridge each evening to see what might be scrambled together. 

At this task, I excel. My fridge clearance dinners are legendary for their beauty and elegance. So when I find myself sculpting cucumber and moulding it artfully around carved avocado, adding a complementary red tomato, it is a siren call . . . I know that it is time to stop cleaning, cooking and tidying the studio. 

It is time to paint.

But before I head out again, I see that my last blog had a subject line of "On life being very interesting . ." and it reads like a curse., I am reminded of the Chinese saying "May you live in uninteresting times". So, for 2022 and beyond, May We All Live in Uninteresting Times". A life without masks, sanitising gel or degradation of the earth, poverty, storms, fires or floods. 

Too much to hope for? 

Probably. 

But this is what I wish for the coming year . . that we live in uninteresting times . .

On Heading West

 It is not yet 6am and I am typing here and trying not to spill my cup of tea. It is of course, pitch dark outside and I am doing "one last thing before I go. ." . . 

Later in the morning I will be driving off west on what I think of as my "painting retreat". In order to get away for ten days, I have been working hard but mostly, I must admit, failing to catch up.

It was not possible to do anything except focus entirely on getting to Palermo, being there and getting home again. In fact, it was all very challenging and if you have an appetite for it you can read about an account I wrote about my experience and especially about my last race for Irish Sailing magazine. It is called "You All have Someone and I have Nobody" and it's a frank account of the emotional toll stuff like this takes. Despite appearances to the contrary, living in this world without arms is not easy, (while it does make life very interesting). However, because it was written for sailors it has some terms that are frankly, very strange. The short version is that in sailing ropes are called sheets and pulling ropes is called "sheeting in".

A Crazy Distraction from the Stuff of Life?

 I was busy up to my knees in paint a few weeks ago, when I got a call asking would I like to represent Ireland in the World Championships for my type of boat, in Italy?

Well, uncharacteristically, I did hesitate to answer The Call.

Of course, there was Covid to consider but the major issue was not the virus or the vaccinations, but how was going to get my boat there? I have my own specially designed dinghy and I can't hire a boat so I cannot sail without it. Normally I tow it to where I am going, but I was not quite ready to drive over 3,000 km to Sicily. The caller offered to put it in a Container (funded by World Sailing) if I would agree to bring it to the UK. So, of course, I peeled off my painting bootees and picked up my buoyancy aid, and I am off to Palermo in the early hours of Wednesday morning.

The other interesting thing happening in my world is that RTE came out some weeks ago to my studio and filmed a short feature for Nationwide , the television programme on RTE 1. It is going out tonight at 7 pm.

I try to avoid watching these things because I will remember forever every stupid thing I said, but I thought you might remember not what I said, but how beautifully it was made, or what create pictures were featured in it. But, also, I do understand that you might be interested to know that Best Foot Forward, the young students' documentary made last spring, is being well received all over and has been selected as a finalist for Kerry International Film Festival, the Clones Film Festival, and is nominated for Louth International Film Festival.

It is actually not possible to organize participation in a World Championship Sailing and paint at the same time, even for someone like me, used to juggling lots of balls in the air. It is not possible to do anything except deal with something like this. So, in recent weeks everything got ditched as Palermo got prioritized.

It was interesting for me to note that lately,  all my paintings have a maritime theme . . So it feels serendipitous to be heading off sailing and not, as some might suggest, a crazy distraction from the stuff of life.

The Medic & The Missing Punchline

 it has been a very peculiar time. There is no denying that. And it is not just the confinement and the chaos as a result of Covid. There has been a lot of banging and drilling as the work goes on and on. I have complicated matters of course, by deciding to relocate the little nook I call 'my office' where I write this, to the attic. I am in pursuit of a bit of "leg room" and a better view of The Goosefield, to the sea and beyond. After 18 months of dust and disruption, I am very nearly spun out.

But not quite.

The main purpose of this blog post is to share with you a most glorious new video, made recently by two young men, just finishing college.

Sean Hart and Bill McHugh. recorded this on a sunny day in late April. The camerawork is remarkable and beautiful, and the sound recording is just simply, outstanding. (I am at heart, an old radio head).  Even though I talk a lot of incoherent nonsense and don't finish many of my sentences, surprisingly, this doesn't take away from the video, which is a work of art.

Near the end, while telling a simple story, I leave out the punchline. Maybe the punchline is implied, and doesn't need to be said out loud, but to me it is a glaring omission (on my part . . . like the lads did not edit it out).

The story involves a medic who was asking me a load of questions, as he was puzzling how was it possible for ANYONE to accidentally cut their own big toe with a knife? In the whole time I was with him, he never looked at me once. I mean, he never looked at me in the eye. He was too busy bandaging my bleeding toe as he repeatedly asked, exactly how had I done the damage? 

In telling my story I did not mention that to cut my right foot so effortlessly, I did, of course, use my left foot. That might have caused him to glance at me, but I never said it, and he never did and he packed me off, once he had finished admiring his own handiwork.

As I walked away, I was still puzzling as to why he kept asking me the same question. Was he asking it to ascertain my level of consciousness or comprehension? I hadn't banged my head, so his repeated inquiries made no sense. 

As I hit the street and the cold November rain lashed my face, in a flash, I realised what had happened. 

He never knew.  Did I really have to spell it out? In my experience, yes, I really did, because someone that hell-bent
on figuring out the mystery of the bleeding toe, could not see what was right in front of them.

 

It's Saturday morning… A bank holiday weekend… And I'm sitting in my magnificent studio with wishy-washy unreliable Wi-Fi and the borrowed laptop. Thanks to Helen, a fellow Mac user, who inducted me in the ways of the PC and to fellow artist, Patricia Aherne, a reader of this newsletter, who organised her friend to whisk off my computer for repair several weeks ago, all is well. Even though my images are still in cyberspace, truth to tell, I'm doing quite well without it. Having no computer has felt like having a bit of a holiday. Without it, I have to focus on the real work which of course is painting. But before my Apple Mac was taken away, I made a short video of one of my recent paintings. You can see it here, complete with the story of its creation. The large painting is one of two I created. The commissioning process is always interesting, and the most important part for me is to see the paintings in the place it was made for. I have just taken them back to varnish. Covid has not allow me to see the paintings in situ… Given that it was made for a particular space, I feel it's really important to see it there. However I just have to trust the person who asked me to make it that he likes it (for the most part), just the way it is. There is a patch on the top left hand corner that I really like… The Americans call it "A Little Darling"… It's what painters often contort themselves to keep in a painting, when we really ought to let it go. It is like a metaphor for life itself and on that note, having had my breakfast, I shall now tear off on my bicycle to the North Wicklow country market for my weekly social outing (vegetable shopping)

‌I had great hopes to do zoom from my studio and I am still hoping and waiting for getting more stable Wi-Fi. But this will be my next project and for those of you who have expressed an interest in a studio visit, I will be in touch with you very very soon. If you would like to be included, use the button below to contact me.

Add Your Tuppence Ha'penny Worth

I have made a video of a current work in progress. It explores the making of a large commissioned painting 80 cm x 180 cm before it is completed. You can watch it by clicking here or on the image above.

The title, 'A Minute to First Gun' refers to the subject of the painting . . . the moments before the start of a race of sailing dinghies.

If after watching the video you would like to post a comment, please feel free to do so in the comments section below.

 Right now, I'm in the process of varnishing some recently completed commissioned paintings. The one is of Bray Harbour and is a large piece measuring 120 cm x 90 cm.

I really loved working on this painting. I started it last autumn, and using a new medium for me, acrylic ink.

The available colours are luscious and vibrant and they flow in extraordinary ways.

While my studio is still being renovated these inks allow me to continue to make pictures.