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.

On losing yet another limb . .

What about the bag and losing yet another limb, I hear you ask? I know that most of you appreciate that I am a bit short of limbs already so, losing another one or even two, is well, careless to say the least....  The short version is this... (because the full one might take me many more

In January last year, my car window was smashed on the street and thieves (on a bicycle!) stole what was plonked on my passenger seat.... My two bags... now fondly remembered as "my right arm" and "my left arm".... At the time, I called them no such thing...too much pride... but with the loss of them has come the realisation that this is what they, in effect, were.  This bag, fitted me perfectly and contained all my own inventions and perfections to live in the world as a two-limbed person. 

The second bag was very different, ordinary, even, except its contents were even more important. It contained my swimming gear and all that was necessary to do battle (and win) against a wet and sticky swimming costume. And so, the loss was tragic....I was in shock. I knew, once it was discovered by the thieves that there was no cash to be gleaned from either of them - except for the euro coin for locker in the swimming pool - I knew my precious bags would end up in a big skip or dumper somewhere close by ... and I ran around in the rain, realising that I couldn't lift the lids and if I tried hard enough, I might end up tumbling in.  Or at least, that is what the Garda* said, as he restrained me.   Of course, I rang Joe Duffy.. **  He didn't ring me back. Long before it was taken, I was aware this might happen. I had travelled with it far and wide - from Central to North America, from North Africa to the Far East, and all ports in between. Everywhere I went my bag came with me.  And with it came the awareness that I would be lost if it were lost,  and so I looked for a replacement.  I had engraved on my heart, the name ...Hidesign  At the time, I knew nothing more about the maker of my bag.  Since then, I have learned a lot. I have learned that it was made in Pondicherry, India.   I have learned that my bag was made by a small, artisan, two-man workshop, which started in 1978.  It grew rapidly and began exporting to the West in the early  1980s, where these bags became a "counter cultural  icon", stocked in "small, independent" stores. Immediately, on reading this, I knew I had a chance...I wasn't dealing with a large conglomerate, and being small and independent myself, I knew, once it was an indigenous company, with deep roots in the "independent minded" community, I had a chance.  And so, I wanted to make the best of this chance. for hours and days I scoured the internet, until I managed to contact one of the top people, the son of one of the original owners, Vikas Kapur, and, as the say, the rest is history.  Of course, it wan't that easy.  But from first contact, I knew I was in luck.  
 Himself in the corner, my Dearly Beloved comments wryly that I never get lucky... he says I am just relentless in pursuit of my objective.  I don't disagree. It means so much to me.  And now, 16 months later, I do have an identical bag, and I feel complete again.   
  I can wander without risking breaking my neck. I can fill it with bottles or bricks (to straighten my shoulders). I can actually use it as an exercise device to try and strengthen my neck muscles -which are still pretty lax these days with my heavy head lolling about like an uncontrollable rugby ball on my miniature neck muscles. I'm doing okay. I am doing so okay that I am making a foray back into the exhibiting circuit this weekend. at the Schoolhouse in Enniskerry as part of their Festival. At this moment, the day before the hanging, I am planning to bring some very big drawings

is some very small paintings, like this one....  But all that might change by Friday.  So, do come and join us if you can on Friday evening at 6.30pm, for the Reception and/or on Saturday (11am-9pm) and Sunday 24th May (11am-6pm). Click here for directions. And, also this weekend, my self-portrait (see above) has been selected for the Royal Hibernian Academy Summer Exhibition and that will run from May 25th right through the summer until early August. For my readers outside of Ireland * A Garda is a member of the police (man or woman) in Ireland. The plural is Gardaí. Collectively known as An Gardaí Síochána ** Joe Duffy is the host of a famous irish phone in radio show called Liveline, with a huge listenership. 

Painting by the seat of my pants

I have been wearing these trousers for years.  When the holes in the knees got too big, I made them into a pair of shorts by cutting off the legs.  In recent months the seat of the pants have worn so thin that even I am embarrassed to wear them anymore. And so, today, I have reluctantly consigned them to the compost heap.

Desert island essentials - what would they be?

A few weeks ago, I was asked a series of questions by Prudence magazine, and it began by asking me "what does your work involve?"

 I create paintings, mostly working outdoors. In addition, I maintain my website and write a regular email newsletter and this irregular blog.  I am also engaged in selling my art work through art fairs and on the Internet.  

 Typical day?

Most days, I start early, with a  mug of tea, and a period of gazing out the window.  I need half an hour of silence in the morning before I can function. After tea I can achieve a lot before breakfast. However, while I am staring into space my brain never stops: scheduling, scheming ways to be more efficient. I seem to need this “gazing space” as I have an embarrassment of ideas, and capturing the good ones and making them a reality is the challenge. 

 How do you inspire other women?

If one is described as being an “inspiration” as often as I am, it can be quite a heavy burden if taken seriously. I don’t take it seriously .  In a world where everything is hard and times are tough, people are inspired by the fact that I haven’t curled up in a corner, lain down and died (yet), because of the “hand“ I have been dealt. 

My "shoeval" aclever way to avoid toe blis

That I drive a car (too fast), and before that cycled for years in Dublin city,  that I learned to scuba dive,  keep hens, am a keen gardener and love to cook, can leave others in jaw dropping wonderment.  That I have held down several jobs as well, sometimes at once, and have had a wide and varied career, from school teacher to agony aunt, from project manager to radio producer, at a time when discrimiation against disabled people was rampant, and educational and employment opportunities were rare, heartens many.

But the fact that I climb ditches, carry canvases across windy bogs, like working in wide open spaces, being a painter the hard way, surprises even myself.   Being on the road less traveled is not my choice. It is simply who I am.

If someone was to ask you what’s the one thing they could do in the morning, just one thing to change their life what would you say?

Be present in this moment.  I have learned to ask myself a simple question: is there anything happening right now, in this moment, that I can’t handle (pedal!)? And the answer has always been “No”. There has never been anything that I have not been able to cope with.  So, I deal with it, one breath at a time. 

Who or what inspires you?

My life time companion, Denis Buckley and my best friend for more than 30 years, Ger Wilson, inspire me. These two people have walked with me for a very long time - they’ve chosen to share my load.  They can both be confrontational and challenging at times.  I like that. I find it inspiring. I wouldn’t be who I am today without them.

Desert island essentials - what would they be?

I have a shocking, searing, independent streak.  On a desert island I don’t want anything. Experience has taught me that focussing on “essentials” can be a pointless activity. For instance, I worked in a job which involved a practice called “hot desking”, which meant I was assigned to a different desk everyday (and often times I had to share it with a colleague as well).  I really longed for what I thought was essential for me (as someone without arms in an armed world) - a desk of my own. I argued my case well. But I wasn’t specific enough, and when it was assigned to me, the much longed for and much coveted desk was one that didn’t include either a computer or a telephone (what I really did need to do the job).  I had to laugh. If I didn’t, I’d have cried, and probably never stopped.

So, tell me what you think I need, and I'll tell you how I’ll get by without it.

Silver lining moment - if you have a challenging situation/problem, what positive thing do you take out of it or how do you handle it?

Challenges keep me sharp.  I have been in a few difficult situations- mostly involving toilets, door knobs,  the odd time a camel or bullocks, and once for five hours, being stuck in a hotel bath (trying to float out, having stuffed the overflow with mashed up soap, didn’t work, by the way). 

I generally believe whatever the problem is, it can usuaull be re-named as a nice problem to have.  

For example, my ten year old car is giving me a quite a bit of bother of late.  The Beetle is like a thing possessed with doors locking automatically and the alarm going off and for no reason any mechanic has been able to determine. It is discomforting and awkward, and often curtails my in-car lunch break, but isn’t it nice to have a beautiful blue car that moves (like myself) with all the elegance and speed of a turbo engine? 

Artwork can be seen:

Caviston’s, Greystones, Co. Wicklow

Cong Art Gallery, Co Mayo

            Kilternan Art Gallery Co Dublin

Forthcoming exhibitions,

Stand 47 near top of Kildare St St  Stephen’s Green

  19, 20, 21 August 2011    

23, 24, 25 September 2011

For more check www.maryduffy.ie 

 info@maryduffy.ie

bitten by a small shark....Siorc beag ionsaí orm sa chuan ar maidin roimh an bricfeasta.

Mary Duffy, 1966

Over the last while, I have been learning Spanish and have discovered the benefits of a limited vocabulary.  However, true to my nature, I found myself edgy in class, bored and staring out the window. Over thirty years since I left school, and nothing much has changed. 

When I was a teeny tot and asked to repeat by rote “Éirigh mé ar maidin ar a hocht a chlog. Nigh mé mo aghaidh agus mo dhá lámh….The rote didn’t allow for me to have no arms or to stray from where I am supposed to have risen at eight o'clock in the morning, washed my face and both hands. I remember being hauled up in front of the class of 45 pupils and made to clarify my “error” when I tried to manipulate the words I had and to deny that I had washed both my hands. I got garbled and ended up saying I had a hundred hands. My limited vocabularia then either didn't allow me to change the words and make them true for me. I remember the crushing effect of being forced to deny my reality. I wasn’t let sit back down again until I had agreed I washed both my hands every morning on rising.

In my Spanish class every day I was reminded of this experience as we had to report to our teacher what we had done before coming to the class. There was a lot of “Tengo una ducha y lavarse el pelo…” I don't have a lot of hair to wash and I hate showering, and so participating in the recitation of our morning rituals made me bold, and dare I say, revengeful,  as I always wanted to be when I was five years old. For some reason, I was always  last to be asked in this class,  and there is only so many showers and hair washes …. (vocabularia was muy limitada) So, I made up stories worthy of my five year old self…. Me fue mordido por un tiburón pequeño en el puerto esta mañana antes del desayuno... I was bitten by a small shark on my leg while I had my early morning swim in the harbour....Siorc beag ionsaí orm sa chuan ar maidin roimh an bricfeasta. Oh, yes, and those of you who were schoolchildren then can correct me and say I didn't add that I "say my prayers". Somethings never do change.

La Tormenta, La Gomera

Ticket Master Challenge is Too Much for Most People

Change is my theme of the moment. I am really struggling with the reality that I can't read small print. And for once it's not about the numbers. It's about the print, or should I say the size of it.  And the poor light. I am now one of those people who, clutching my illuminated magnifying glass, complain that the Guards are getting younger, and that children are running the Banks. 

So, I decided to get a bigger stand at the RDS Art Fair.  You can argue with yourself that this is a non sequitur, and that for some other reason, I  have moved a few feet away from where I said I'd be.  Well, of course you are right, and my bigger spread has little to do with my need for reading glasses and more to do with my love of the grand scale. I am now at stand B7 (it is still at the back left-hand corner).
 
But some changes do remain constant. And this year again, with a few days to go, it is decided that the Ticket Master Challenge is Too Much for Most People and the RDS has agreed to let people print this email as a valid entrance to the Art Fair.  

So here it is. You will need one separate 'ticket' for each person in your party, but that's it. There are two tickets on this page. You can stop struggling with the passwords and codes and once she's printed the two tickets for you, you can send that nice ten year-old helper on her way.   Or bring her along to the Art Fair,
hope to see you all there,
Mary

Wexford Art in the Open

During the recent August Bank Holiday weekend, I took part in one of my favourite events of the year, Wexford's En Plein Air Festival for artists. Read more about it here