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.

On Being Catapulted Back 40 years

Today, I cycled in my first St Patrick's Day parade. It was also a first, I think,  for Newcastle village where I live. 

A motley crew was hastily gathered to follow the the1954 Massey Ferguson bedecked with festive flags. Most of us were in our pyjamas 20 minutes before, so it was quite the lesson in organisation to see how it all came together.

 

As I cycled up the road,  I met my neighbours ( (in a socially distant way)), In an instant, I was catapulted back 40 years.

 

In 1981, The International Year of The Disabled, I was invited by a state agency with responsibility for disabled people to participate in the St Patrick's Day parade in Dublin, using a tandem, under the banner 'We Can Do It Together'.

 

By that time, I was already a familiar sight around the city on my bicycle with two empty sleeves flying in the wind. I created quite the spectacle

 

 

My bicycle was an elegant, two-wheel racing machine. The racing handlebars return slightly upwards at an angle of 45°. Into those handlebars was fitted and aluminium frame. It looked pretty much like the handlebars on a pram. This device allowed me to steer the bicycle, and together with a backpedal brake, I was ready to take on the city that was beset with bus strikes. As a mode of transport, it attracted a lot of attention and this attention resulted in my invitation to participate in the St Patrick's Day parade.

 

At that time, I was a student in art college and not yet 20 years old, but I really knew that in the circumstances, I needed to be in the driving seat. The state agency with the tandem, would not hear of it.  I was as adamant then as  I would be now -  I don't see myself as a passenger.

 

It was as clear to me then that as disabled people we need to be leading the way when it comes to solving issues that affect us deeply.

 Forty years ago as a teenager, I thought this ought to have been also evident to the agency set up to support us live self-determined, independent lives.   But clearly, it wasn't.

 

I recall the almost total incredulity that I was not cooperating. The agency was fairly lacking in any comprehension as to what my difficulty might be. For myself, it was clear that it was far from co-operation they had in mind (It felt more like conscription).

 

I even suggested that we cycle two independent bicycles under the banner but it didn't happen.

 

So, yesterday,  after 40 years I finally got to cycle in the St Patrick's Day parade. 

Now my bicycle has got three wheels. It is a recumbent machine built for speed and so I had no trouble keeping up with Billy on the 1954 tractor or my neighbour Ruth with Winnie, the Wonderful Falabella. Keeping up with Ruth and Raz's little ones proved to be the real challenge.

 

St Patrick's Day Parade Newcastle, Wicklow

When Even The Rising Sun is Out of Sorts

As I got up this morning, as well as the surprise of heavy sprinkling of snow, there was a very strange glow in the pre-dawn light.

I noticed it straight away. There was something odd, as the striking glow of the sunrise was in the wrong part of the sky. Normally, that red patch is in the east, directly over the sea (where it should be). I reckon this apparent distortion might be caused by the clouds (or my lack of coffee). 

The clouds, heavy and laden with the fluffy stuff, could be obscuring the real sun, and that this strange sun rising in the south, is just a distortion, a reflection of the peculiar times we find ourselves in. So, in the context of strange times, thank you all for your funny and welcoming responses to both my Virtual Open Studio invitation & the Perpetual Calendar idea. 

The Virtual Open Studio continues and more about that below. Helen has done great work and the calendar is ready to be recycled. My last poll was about the Virtual Open Studio and it was a great to know if I did the work to build it, you would come. Thank you. 

I have decided to extend the Open Studio for the duration of Covid, as this Lockdown looks like is going on indefinitely. As well as having loads of work for sale that was hidden prior to my move, I discovered a real talent for matching people with paintings. If you are bewildered by choices or want some help, contact me.

 Listening to the radio morning, about the challenges of small talk for disabled people,  I was reminded of double leg amputee Ian Stanton, who died over 20 years ago… Ian was a great singer and wrote songs and one song came to mind that goes along the lines of "How did you get to be like that then . . . was it some great tragedy?"

"I was a stuntman in Jaws Two, and I really earned my fee"

People’s thoughtless invasion of privacy and the lack of basic courtesy afforded to disabled people in the public gaze is little spoken about.  

As a disabled person, I deal a lot with people who are unskilled in the art of striking up a conversation with those perceived as “other”.  

 More often than not, when I'm answering somebody's inquisitive question about whether I paint using my feet are in my mouth, and I challenge them a little with my answer, sometimes they're embarrassed and explain that they're only asking because one of their best friends has no arms/or they know a lot of artists without arms… My next question is kinda cheeky because I've never actually met anybody who could substantiate either of those claims. The person who told me that one of her best friends had no arms couldn't name her and. As for the guy who knew "a lot of artists without limbs” could not name one of them either.

 

Anyway, the point is, I love conversation, but sometimes if it's one direction disability focussed, it can be wearing. This means that I and other disabled people like me are experts at fielding unwanted attention. What interested me in the woman's conversation today was the assumption by the people engaging in small talk that her condition was temporary that she was one of really "one of them"… really an able-bodied person with a temporary inconvenience of a crutch. 

I know the conversation would have been very different if they thought she was permanently incapacitated. I could even predict the direction the conversation would have taken in that case. 

 

.......I predict that if those engaging in small talk considered her a permanently disabled person, their opening comment would have been "You are such an inspiration!"

I think it's ironic that the most frequent opening small talk gambit by non-disabled people about disabled people (designed to compliment), is also top of the list for the most cringeworthy, unwanted small talk by those of us on the receiving end . . . disabled people in the public gaze. 

One only has to listen to Stella Young's TED Talk to appreciate the depth of this little spoken-about, truth. She argues it ought to be referred to as 'Inspiration Porn '  . . . .in fetishising difference and/or tragedy we fetishise all difference and tragedy, and feed off it to make ourselves feel better about our own lives.

 

Back to The Future . . .?

I know that all of you are bemoaning the fact I did not make a calendar this year . . . But before you consign my beautiful artist's calendar 2019/2020 to the bin, WAIT! I know a minority are making the best of things and using a scissors, are about to chop up their Mary Duffy calendar and stick some pictures in a frame. The rest of you may have already chucked it in the recycling bin. The readers of this blog are geniuses obviously. And one, John Baker, contacted me with his idea. He simply stuck "January 2021" over Nov 2020 in and attempt to go backwards in time. Nice try, John . . . . It is not great for dates, but it is fabulous because it gave me a rather good idea. The main urgency now is to reach deep, deep into your recycling bin, and pull out your old calendar. Print out the attached pdf and stick it over January 2019. Hey Presto! we get to go back to the future, t

ogether. See my attempt to the right. It looks rather good. And unlike John Baker's, this adjustment includes real 2021 dates and so will actually work as a calendar until the end of 2023. Thank you John Baker. You are a genius and obviously worthy of the title of Emeritus Professor at UCD Dublin (my old Alma Mater). As we are enduring another Lockdown together with all other islanders here on the edge of Europe, times are indeed challenging. Every little helps. Thank you John Baker, (genius). The plan is to work on doing decent images that you can print A4 and stick over the next 23 months (as we go along).