Until I let them go, I didn't realise I was holding on . . . .

Nude in Repose, charcoal on paper

Until I let them go, I didn't realise I was holding on to what I considered 'precious pieces'. And now, I am glad to say, that they are precious to some of you, too. Thank you all for your warm and generous response to my experimental first Virtual Open Studio. The opening time of this Virtual Exhibition has been extended because of Covid Lockdown. In Ireland this country is in the highest level of alert and restrictions so as long as it lasts, you can enjoy my virtual studio visit. 

 The Hidden Gems were precious to me for a variety of reasons . . . the portraits and life drawings reveal what a little piece of charcoal. . . combined with a sheet of paper, a putty rubber (and endless hours of effort) can do. Even though I had done life drawing in art college, and I could see my all fellow students manipulating, rubbing and and pulsing the eraser in their non-dominant hand, I never really knew why. I thought it was some kind of nervous tick that enveloped everybody (except me) when they started to draw from life. What they were doing with the eraser was making it malleable and soft and and when it is soft it is the most perfect tool for doing the most delicate work. 

 It has been a busy time, wrapping and posting off paintings to far flung places from California to Ballina, Thurles to New South Wales. In between times I cut my own hair, and signed some paintings. What paintings were left, I stacked unwrapped in the back of my car and delivered myself. This was after I reckoned it was easier to do this than queuing outside the post office (in the rain). Delivering them myself was a pleasure. Some of you said it looked better in reality, than online. Many of you who bought had bought previously from me, and you told me how much you loved that painting and how much it has been cherished. 

So many gave me gifts of honey and jam, poetry and pottery. Here is a link to the poem that Brendan printed for me Margaret told me how much she loved my painting of Wexford. After more than 10 years …she still sits gazing at it. It seems I was close to the mark in my video when I promised that good a painting is a companion for lifetime. She told me that in particular, she loves that all my work is so different, and that she reckons I am "a real artist" that many artists churn out the same painting over and over again but mine all so different. 

 I have to admit that I have felt a bit challenged by my wide and varied interest in different materials and methods of applying paint over the years. What I am learning after all this time is that that it's okay. Margaret says it is better than okay. That it is, in her view, actually a good thing. She says she knows it's not a popular move for an artist, but for real, live, breathing human being - changing, evolving and doing things differently is normal, and anything else is frankly a bit strange (even if it is better for an artist’s bank balance). If you are interested, we can take up this subject, and many others (like the obsession with signing a painting), on Zoom,m please sign up for my newsletter

On Chillblains

I am inclined to believe I have done nothing in months except be increasingly impatient with the slow progress of my studio refurbishment. . . Slowly, very slowly, it is coming into its own. It is taking an awful long time. Much longer than I anticipated when it was the germ of an idea at the end of last year.. 

However, while I have been waiting for transformation, I have not been idle. I have spent weeks, months even, working on a new website . . . it has some really snazzy new features. 

Back to the studio where things have been all topsy turvey for a long time now, since the end of January, in fact. At first (before Covid), I had hoped that the renovation could be completed by the middle of May, then it was stretched to the end of June, then the end of July. Now I am hoping for Christmas. I know that I need to add "Christmas 2020", because this thing is inclined to run away from me unless I pin it down. It has demanded most of my attention . . . There is precious little painting going on. 

Instead I am engaging with all sorts of problems mostly got to do with measurements and sums and things that bring me out in a rash. These are tough times for everyone and luckily so far for us, and our loved ones, Covid has just been an inconvenience keeping us home and tied to this small bit of heaven we call home. It is not all peaceful, though. 

There are copious debates about floors and shelves and stuff. I am constantly reminded about the important things in life like. . . . like underfloor heating. Himself reminds me that it is essential. Absolutely. I longingly remember my acres of cardboard that did me for insulation for years. 

In case you are inclined to think that it is a long way from underfloor heating I was reared, now he (and others) remind me that I have complained bitterly (for more than a decade) about working barefoot and about how the floor temperature can undermine the progress of any painting during the winter months. In fact, my old studio was so cold that in winter that I frequently opted to paint outdoors in preference to my studio). I reckon with the winter sun, it was often warmer outside. 

 Of course, now in the summer heat it is easy to forgot the frostbite cold of February.

Since you ask, my Christmas tree finally got the chop yesterday . . . . It was just as in these parts we are feeling the summer close, and the autumnal chill in the evening air.

Hanging Myself at the Annual Exhibition of the Royal Irish Academy

This weekend, my self-portrait

has been selected for the Royal Hibernian Academy Summer Exhibition and that will run from May 25th right through the summer until early August.