Madly tap my mouse and type on my keyboard with massive expectations with what can be achieved in the next 12 hours,

 As I continue to madly tap my mouse and type on my keyboard with massive expectations with what can be achieved in the next 12 hours, 

I am secure in the knowledge that it is all ok, even if the world is turned upside down . . You'd never know the world is in turmoil if you make it to Tinahely tomorrow. In the Courthouse, all will be calm. There will be little in the way of speech making, and hopefully some time for a bit of real conversation. If you've not been to an art exhibition opening before, don't be intimidated. It's best described as a relaxed party in the afternoon.

You can ask questions like, "Why don't you paint The Sea/Boats/ Bogs /Rare Fen Habitats anymore?"

And if you either like (or don't like what you see) and are afraid of how to respond if asked, take my advice . . it's nearly always possible to comment that "It's got lots of energy". 

I've used this phrase myself, loads of times, to significant effect in the very same situation. (Thanks, John McGahern)

I suspect that some of you might be curious to know what happened to the painting I attempted to repair with the iron and only made it worse.  Thankfully, it was surplus to requirements, and the show looks great without it. I even fixed the hole by cutting the painting, and I painted over the melted wax iron-shaped marks. Now it is an even better painting than it was before, although I doubt it will ever see a frame.

I am sending this late email because as an astute 'by the nose' navigator, fearless crossing mountainy roads and bóithríns, I am not proud to say that I kept getting lost on my way to Tinahely. I have been a few times now, and my trips were beginning to develop a kind of reputational vortex akin to the Bermuda Triangle. Even last Monday, on my way down with the paintings, I was diverted around Arklow town and I knew it was really time to get a grip. I have come to the conclusion that it was my fantasy that the road should run straight to The Courthouse that caused me to overshoot the turns again and again. In my daydreamy way on the lush and winding roads, I would end up in Coolboy, Carlow or Coolattin.

And so, it is with more than a bit of embarrassment that I offer this advice: , if you intend to travel tomorrow, do keep a keen eye out all the way and use your own judgement rather than blindly following roadsigns, satnav or Google. I am not afraid to use a SatNav or a map, but as I keep getting lost, I have learned to temper my enthusiasm for blindly going where Google has gone before.

If you are driving from Dublin and the north, use the N11 as far as junction 16 Rathnew, heading for Glenealy on the R772. Avoid going via Arklow as there is really no need, and there were loads of roadworks and weird diversions. 

If you are coming from the south, Tinahely is 30 mins north of Bunclody and 40 mins north of Enniscorthy. If coming from anywhere else, I can only advise beware of false directions and crazy diversions and leave in plenty of time. There is a bus service from Arklow train station at 11.58 am if you are that way inclined. It takes 45 mins.

Whatever way you travel, if you arrive early, I understand that O'Connor's Bar, next door to the Gallery, has a carvery lunch on Sundays (if that's your thing). If it's not, the Farm Shop & Restaurant provides for everyone else, and they say that most of their food is "gluten-free and vegetarian".

Requiem for the Norm

 

I will soon address a conference in New York about my work in the 1980s. The conference was entitled Requiem for the Norm, and celebrated the life and work of Lorenza Böttner.   This Chilean/German artist was born in 1959, and although  her artistic career spanned just sixteen years, Böttner created hundreds of individual works, using dance, photography, street performance, drawing, and installation to celebrate the complexity of armless embodiment and gender expression. Casting herself as a ballerina, a mother, a young man with glass arms, a Greek statue, Böttner’s work is irreverent and hedonistic, filled with the artist’s joy in her own body.

 

Curated by Paul B. Preciado, the exhibition was co-produced by Württembergischer Kunstverein Stuttgart, Germany, and La Virreina Centre de la Imatge Barcelona, Spain. This touring exhibition is organized by the Art Museum at the University of Toronto, Canada, in collaboration with the producers, the Württembergischer Kunstverein Stuttgart, Germany, and La Virreina Centre de la Imatge Barcelona, Spain.

 www.leslielohman.org

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New York, NY 10013

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