noise of life

 Away, beeswax/oil on canvas, 8x10in, 2012

As I sit here at the end of a long day in the studio, the birds are making their last calls for the evening and I am craving my birds. my robins, my mockingbirds, my wee yellow finches-I am missing my dogs, my own land. As beautiful as it is here, as the saying goes, there’s no place like home. This is the first day that I’ve been feeling homesick and it’s to be expected I suppose.

What I didn’t expect was to feel my Mother's presence here–she is with me always-on my walks, in the studio, evenings in the big house sharing food and good ‘craic’. I realized that the noise of life can muffle our inner voice,  and distort our ability to listen. When it is silenced,  the soul speaks about what is truly relevant. 

Annaghmakerrig walk, oil on canvas, 8x10in, 2012

Although I have just more than a week left here, I feel that I’ve accomplished what I set out to do. It was to be a time of transition, to find my way-perhaps a new way. I have also surprized myself in regards to what I wanted to learn. I will continue to learn about Ireland-the people, the land, the myth, the song.

 

Did you get good work done?? Did you work today??

This is the first thing the artists and writers ask -almost before ‘hello’. To be around like minds and only like minds twenty four hours a day is something that still amazes me. I will miss that.

So after writing this post I don’t feel such a pining for home anymore

The Irish 'Famine'

 black 47, oil on canvas, 8x10in, 2012

It was not what they called it
For the latter is born from nature
And therefore not man made.

This was man made-
In fact an attempt by non natives
To end a race via genocide.

Thousands upon thousands dead
Thousands upon thousands forced
Into exile across the globe.

And for what- four green fields
Whose produce was exported
As men, women, and children starved.

Of course the potato was blighted
But corn and other produce left our
Shores while inhumanity was confirmed. 

Liam ó Comáin

Hardships

I am surprised at how accustomed I am to convenience. The lack of it these past few days  here has prompted a deeper examination of what is truly essential for me to have a fruitful life. I won’t go into detail about my personal journey but will mention two things that have caused me to contemplate what I rely on -weather and the internet! In the latter I am learning patience-the wifi comes and goes as often as the rain.

 I am having a love-hate relationship with the rain. I love it because the light going through it is something to behold. Looking up, through cathedral trees reaching into the sky, I see sparkling gold-beams on the dark patterned branches – it is transcending and divine. I cant help but think of author Martin Shaw's words i.e how nature mirrors our soul.

I have ventured into the forest a few times to paint. Accompanied by fickle bright sun I go  off, deliberately setting  up my gear close to the thick forest where I can duck out if the rain comes. The woods are so dense I figured they'd make a natural umbrella for me to wait out the rain and resume when the sky clears. And rain it did, just as I was setting up my gear. So I ducked under the trees. Initially I relished  the scent of moss and peat and staccato sounds of  birds, not hindered in the least by the succession of rain. But twenty minutes in, the rain still hadn’t broken and actually accelerated, at one point turning into wee bits of hail. 

Just as I was contemplating packing up and calling it a day the sun finally showed, the rain quieted, then stopped. I quickly got to work and painted fast, heady with all I had absorbed while waiting under tree-umbrellas. But not fast enough as it started to rain again. My easel filled with water and I was too-it was time to give up.

this larger drawing on mylar is in progress.20x30in.

Not sure where I am going. I have been researching Irish religion/politics and Irish famine so may have influenced the work a bit-but there is a lovely brave heart tree on the left.

The above images are some wee plein air

'between', house, ghost

Tyrone Guthrie, 1900-1971

 Last night I went for dinner at ‘the big house’ which is where Tyrone Guthrie resided when he wasn’t abroad.

The opening of the Tyrone Guthrie Centre is today seen as a turning point in the cultural life of Ireland. At his death Tyrone Guthrie, with the encouragement of his family, left the house in his will to the Irish State for use as a residential workplace for artists. Guthrie’s dream was pursued by visionary and dedicated people through the two arts councils in Ireland at a time of deep political division. The old house was skilfully converted and Annaghmakerrig opened its doors to its first residents on 10 October 1981.

 Seeping with history and stories (literally as there is an extensive library), this ancient icon is massive. Luckily for me one of the artists gave a personal tour of the many rooms, including Miss Worby’s, the resident ghost. What fun to open door after door-I don’t know how many times we gasped with awe. What resonated was the realization that we were enveloped in the same space that so many well-known artists, composers and writers have stayed in order to make some of their most important work!

I  finally feel settled in here at Annamaghkerrig and after such an inspiring night I headed into the studio today where I  worked into the evening. 

I really like to create large-scale but again because of travelling I couldn’t take stretched canvas so I brought a few rolls of mylar. It is a beautiful surface to draw on and I also like to incorporate cold wax and powdered  pigment, as well as oil-which is what I did with the image below. And mylar  is light and easy to roll up-when dry.

I lár báire

 ( between), cold wax, mixed media on mylar  20x48in 2012

Below is a lively tale about the Ghost at Annamaghkerrig-watch it if you dare!

paint smuggling & plein air

I just packed my gear to hike and do some plein air when it started to rain.

 

I was going to head out anyway but had some other things that I wanted to do in the studio and thought I’d go later. I did need to warm up so I so just opened the studio door and made the painting below -so don’t know if it is plein air, since technically I was under a roof. 

 Ireland 2 oil on canvas 8x10in 2012

The rains here are lovely-usually light and short-lived, although it can happen quite frequently in the same day. I’ve been hiking and researching paint locations where there is thick tree shelter that I can duck under if/when it does rain. Now I just need to be brave and get out there!

Here is my plein air set up. (minus the plein air)

 

In a previous blog I mentioned researching different easel options and decided the half box was the most practical. I like to work ie sight-sizing which means that you are eye level with your reference and your surface. I find pochades attached to tripods are too low, plus I lose things and didn’t want to bring anything that needs assembling.

Because of luggage weight restrictions I left my heavier wood pallet at home and just constructed cardboard ones here. The cardboard will quickly absorb the oil from the pigment as well as medium, which is a technique that Degas would use when he wanted to work with drier paint. I just cover the canvas with medium and work wet into wet.

Also as mentioned in earlier posts I researched and spoke with artists who travel with oil colour and heard many horror stories. It seems even with printed safety standards it is up to the sole discretion of the customs officer in regards to confiscating them. I also looked into purchasing oil paints here and was surprised to see how expensive they are compared to Canadain prices, although I am sure there must be stores around more reasonably priced then what I found on the web. But then add on the exchange rate re Euro/Canadian! Since I was bringing acrylic anyway as well as drawing materials I wasn’t going to worry too much if they removed my oil paints.

So in a ‘what have I got to lose?’ frame of mind, I decided to try smuggling them in. Since I purchase oil paint in large tubes, I could afford to part with some. So I took empty vitamin containers and simply sqeezed a small amount of paint into each one, then placed the containers in zipped toiletry bags.

They got through, and now I just cut the top half off the container, take a knife and put the pigment directly into the metal trays in my easel. Since I am only able to work with oil early on in my time here (to allow for drying), I will simply discard the unused portion, clean my tray and that’s it. I also brought a minute amount of cobalt drier and just added that to the medium to increase drying.

we ARE nature

 Today I packed up my sketchbook and camera and set off on  a hike.

It was suggested that for my first walk I stay on the road around the lake until I get my bearings as one can easily become lost in this vast lush land.  Of course I soon veered from the road because I was entranced by an opening path leading into mysterious woods. 

The path was well worn and I eagerly followed it and soon felt wonder as a child feels. And it was again a surreal, otherworldly sensation. So coupled with the curiosity we all have in wanting to keep going along a road to see what is to come, I went in.

The earth was damp and light with sponge grass-moss and surrounding me were dense rows of evergreens standing straight on thick brown needle-carpets. 

With a few feet between the lowest branches and ground-carpet  I was tempted to crawl through to the other side. Come to think of it an Alice in Wonderland mood prevailed through out the whole adventure. A sense of ‘alive’ was all consuming-I seemed to hear the voices of things growing and felt the ancient stories of these knarled, moss laden trees. 

 What I was quite taken with were these larger star-bursts. At first I thought they were Queen Ann’s Lace but they look different-wider with thicker sturdier stalks. I decided to gather these magic wands and suspend them on the branches of fir trees

There were some beautiful linear growths that I have included although I’m not quite sure what they are and do not know what they look like fully dressed-or maybe they’re’ bereft of foliage in spring/summer as well.

I decided to adorn them with some of the star bursts

along the path were clusters of these tall vertical growths with string like curls springing from their tops. 

and was compelled to play with them as well....

It was lovely to see the breeze slowly dismantle my constructions and I couldn’t help but recall Andy Goldsworthy’s profound words:

'We often forget that We ARE Nature. Nature is not separate from us. So when we say we have lost our connection with Nature, we’ve lost our connection with ourselves.'


Once I emerged from  the woods I headed towards the lake and have added some images below. I was  fascinated with the varied and creature-like growths on tree trunks.

(tonight I might have dreams  of green snakes and praying mantises)

The day’s intention was to go for a walk for inspiration then head into the studio to paint. When I got back I realized that I did, in fact, do some art making.

Below, some  scenes of the Tryrone Guthrie Centre,  grounds as well as lake.

 

departure

I spent most of today doing research and resting as I became quite ill last night and want to nip it in the bud. This quiet time presented an opportunity to distill my objectives ie why am I here and what do I want to accomplish?

Introspection before creation has never been my strong point. I usually let an idea unfold without question, work intuitively, and afterwards approach the work with an objective eye. But lately I am finding solace in researching new ideas and alternate direction, yet still want to be open to change. I find this whole thing gets back to letting go, holding on, and when to do what!

Quiet dominates the atmosphere here as there are no televisions and guests are asked to keep music very low so as not to disturb anyone. This quiet is all consuming and admittedly takes some getting used to. But in the quiet there is no getting around a heightened awareness of self –and self doubt was quickly winning out, wreaking havoc on my psyche. So I took a walk to my studio in hopes of shaking off this negativity and noticed something in a moment that had eluded me completely yesterday while working in there for hours. Scrawled on a piece of masking tape that was stuck above the sink were two little words: Be Brave. These words have been pulling at me all day

Voyager, encaustic collage on box, 6x16in, 2012

A few years ago a man visiting our gallery commented on how brave artists have to be and that really resonated with me as I’ve never considered art-making to require courage. But it does-and should. Otherwise why do it? And I also realized today that my cowardly insecurities are a natural progression (at least for me) in moving forward-and beyond. The big ominous F word (failure, not the other) is a casualty that could happen regardless –whether I take that leap of faith or quietly stand in the sidelines while others make the flight. Being Brave is about taking risks and bearing consequences. It is about being honest and being open and being ready. I think I am. 

Voyager, encaustic collage on panel, 6x16in, 2012

These two paintings were made just before leaving for Ireland. Unfortunately travelling with encaustic materials was not an option, although I  did bring some pigment crayons and heat gun.

Arrival

It is my first official day at Annaghmakerrig. I arrived yesterday-sleepless and bedraggled from travel. What a culture shock- literally-coming off the jarring sounds of airport bustle-intercoms, loud music, people yelling into cell phones, and, upon boarding the plane, it was my good fortune to be seated in front of a colicky baby. After arriving in Dublin it was another two hour bus ride to Moneghan and then a twenty minute taxi ride to this otherworldly place. The bus and taxi were a wonderful transition with  windows framing these vast changing skies and rolling green hills. There is nothing constant about the skies in Ireland, and they are good at keeping secrets. They will turn deep indigo and throw heavy rain without warning – and as if nothing happened they then turn cerulean blue with brilliant white clouds. People here talk about going into thin places, where edges between here and there merge-I think it is reflected in these  skies. 

On his death in 1971, Sir Tyrone Guthrie willed this house and grounds to the Irish state on the condition that it should become a retreat for artists of all disciplines. The state through both Arts Councils has honoured this gift. The self catering cottages-one of which I am staying-was added to facilitate writers and artists who prefer to create in a slightly more separate location than the ‘Big House’, but in the peace and quiet of Annaghmakerrig.

I’ve read about the ‘big house’, and anticipated the first impression upon driving up to the gate-but to be honest, in being here it felt surreal and dreamlike.  I wish that I could write how I feel-I am not a writer but want to convey how deeply moved I am to be in such a place. All I have to do here is what I’ve always wanted to do. Work. When I want. Without deadlines. Without responsibilities. It is 1:30  AM and I don’t have to feel guilty for staying up late. I can sleep in if I so choose. I can go for a walk down to the lake if I so choose. I can go into my studio and paint if I so choose. I can sleep all day tomorrow if I so choose. But I won’t as want a good start on hiking and painting and seeing what tomorrow brings.

 Ireland 1, April, 8x10in, acrylic on canvas 2012

Today I spent some time in the studio  unpacking paints and preparing canvas. I was unfolding my easel to make sure it was in working order and looked out the window and was enchanted by the trees beyond-wee spirit trees merging with the sky. So above is a warm up. Although I did smuggle my oil paints (more in another post) this is painted with acrylic.

Below are some interiors of my farmhouse cottage and also the studio