Scroll down to read the English version. Is rí-annamh a fheicim an rí-iascaire (an Kingfisher) ach bhí an t-ádh liom inné agus mé amuigh ar shiúlóidín i mBushy Park, i dTír an Iúir.
Nach iontach an t-éan é – lena chuid cleití gleoite gealgháireacha – mheasfá gur chóir go mbeadh cónaí air sna Trópaicí, nó i nGáirdín na nAinmhithe b’fhéidir, mar chonaic mé go h-éasca é, a cholainn lonrach ag glioscarnach i measc na craobhacha loma gheimhriúla.
Bhí a chleití ar ghorm na spéire, agus bhí dath rua nó oráiste ar a ucht. D’eitil sé leis ansin agus ní fhaca mé aríst é ach d’fhan an t-aisling liom agus mé ag triall ar bhaile.
Yes, I saw a Kingfisher the other day, a fleeting glimpse of that ethereal bird. Bright sky-blue feathers standing out against the bare grey branches of Bushy Park. How is it that such an exotic creature has made his home by this little woodland pond in Dublin? Was it a heavenly blunder? Or was he created on some crazy whim, to bring joy to this wintery world? – I can think of no other explanation. Can you?
Woodland pond in Bushy Park, Dublin.
I did that painting of a kingfisher a long time ago for a book by O’Brien Printing – I wonder is it still in print… But I’m thinking these days, that with all the trouble in the world, and climate change in particular, maybe it’s time to revisit that subject and see where it takes me.
I’m reminded of the old mandarin in China who, when he disagreed with the emperor, he took to sitting by the banks of the Yangtze to spend his day fishing. A quiet and dignified protest.
From “Shot Crowd”, an exhibition of paintings and video by Joy Gerrard at the RHA
Well itis crazy. And getting crazier and more dangerous every day. But I want to tell you about an art exhibition that’s on at the moment. Black and white paintings – mostly large – scenes of mass protests taken from newspapers or the internet, images of dense crowds viewed from above, from tall buildings or from police helicopters, perhaps.
The Arab Spring, “Black Lives Matter”, Anti-Trump demonstrations – all part of our recent history – but then I wondered: what does she think of all this? Is she ‘for’ or ‘against’ or is she simply observing?
Someone else might say that it doesn’t matter, it’s just art – but it matters to me! I knew a fella once, he’d make art videos of all the marches – but he never took part. I used to see him standing up on plinth with his camera as we marched by. Where did he really stand, I wondered?
Detail from a painting by Joy Gerrard
But I’m talking about the wonderful paintings by Joy Gerrard in Shot Crowd at the Royal Hibernian Academy in Dublin at the moment. I was very taken by them. And when I think about it, how they deliberately choose the ‘helicopter view’, I imagine she wanted to portray that sinister feeling of being under constant surveillance.
The paintings are Japanese black ink on linen. See the detail above, the water based ink mixed to different consistencies from transparent washes to solid black, her brushwork quite free and loose, perhaps to emphasise the humanity of the scene and to subvert the threatening atmosphere in some way.
And there’s also a video and this is what really caught my attention. Hard to describe, it’s like a model of an empty city and then thousands of ball bearings start pouring in from one side until the ‘city’ is completely taken over by them. (Actually, they’re not ball bearings, Joy tells me, they are shotor shot gun pellets, collected by emptying shot gun cartridges). The pellets finally come to a halt and there’s silence for a moment before the pellets start running again, away to the other side, until the city is deserted again.
Still from video in “Shot Crowd”, an exhibition by Joy Gerrard at the RHA
And so it continues endlessly. I imagine the creator tilting the ‘city’ from side to side to make the pellets roll, some hidden hand controlling the situation, allowing the ‘people’ to run wild for a while but containing them within certain limits and ultimately, maintaining absolute power over them. Scary thought.
Scary times. But could an art video change anything? I believe it can. It can raise awareness; it can move an audience and make them think. And that’s crucial in today’s world. What do you think?
Fionnuala tells me that it’s called ‘the anti-cyclonic gloom’ . It’s nothing to worry about, it’s not terminal, but it generally keeps our little island shrouded in a misty, fecky, damp grey miserable blanket of cloud for most of the month of January.
She also tells me (she’s doing a climate course) that the third week in January is most likely to be the dampest, feckiest, miserablist week of them all. But the other day, let me tell you that it was 10 degrees celsius in Dublin – the same day that it was snowing in Venice – so that can’t be bad!
But why am I telling you this? Well, this ‘anti-cyclonic gloom’ is probably the reason that I’m painting empty fireplaces again, my “Tinteáin Tréigthe” series, because if one ventures out these days in search of inspiration, up in the hills around Dublin, one might find oneself on a fool’s errand: – Nothing to see, it’s all over lads, have yez no homes to go to?
So I wander off and investigate some deserted old cottages instead. I have been painting empty fireplaces in abandoned homes in the hills for a few years now. I think about how central the fireplace once was to the home, how people used to keep the fire going throughout the night and throughout the year, and how the fireplace really was the heart of a home.
Seeing them abandoned and cold, each with their own distinctive personality, was quite moving so I started a series of paintings as a requiem for those people who had gone, a memorial to the Irish diaspora.
The three wise men – I always think that they get a raw deal here in Ireland. They arrive on the last day of Christmas, just as everyone is taking down the Christmas decorations, dumping the Christmas tree and going back to work. Not a fun time to visit Ireland, you might say.
Yes, it’s still dark and still pretty miserable here but there’s one thing that always gives me a boost – and that’s the snowdrops. Every January, they force their way out of the cold ground to greet the new year. They pop up outside our back door and they nod their little heads in the wind and rain. They’d bring a smile to the grouchiest of people. This year, the first one arrived on the 7th of January, the day after those three “wise” men.
But, having noticed the solitary snowdrop, I then started noticing that there was purple campanula in bloom all over the patio. Surely that’s not supposed to happen until June or July? So I know that it’s extremely cold across mainland Europe these days but on our little island, it has been ‘extremely’ mild this year.
by Yanny Petters
Now, as you know, I don’t normally paint flowers – but I know some artists who do. There’s Yanny Petters who paints on glass (see above); there’s Nicola Lynch Morrin, Bid Flinn and Sarah Zoutewelle-Morris (see below). All of these images are on their websites which are well worth visiting (see the links below).
by Nicola Lynch Morrinby Bridget Flinnby Sarah Zoutewelle-Morrisby Decor-Art UK
And then there’s photographs – another friend of mine has beautiful frosty photos on her website at:
Just a thought – I realise that all these artists are female. Is this a coincidence, I wonder, or do real men not paint flowers? Naw… Van Gogh painted flowers; So did Emil Nolde. Any thoughts?
“Ah, sometimes I sits and thinks”, she said, “and sometimes I just sits”. I was thinking about that old woman recently, when I finally got time to sit down.
And she reminded me of a film that I’d seen about the artist Natalia Black ARUA. Whilst expounding on the visual impact of a painting, she said: “My idea is to look at (paintings) and stare into them like one looks into the fire and thinks wordless thoughts…” (see her website here )
Funnily enough, I wasn’t sitting by the fireside at the time; I was sitting on top of the misty summit of Kippure in the Wicklow mountains. But isn’t there something about slow-moving clouds, like flickering flames or the never-ending sea, that just brings forth those ‘wordless thoughts’?
If only we could’ve stayed there for a while longer. But it was cold, and whenever it’s wet underfoot…
Happy New Year, a chairde, let’s hope it’s a good one.
This is a bit of a meandering story (with one new, previously unseen video), to while away some of the time between Christmas and the New Year. It’s bi-lingual so if you wish, you can just read the English text (which is in italics).
So wasn’t that a year to remember! The 100th anniversary of the Easter Rising – it was lovely to be in Ros Muc, in Connemara to mark the occasion.
One of my special memories was attending the community event – Fleadh an Turlaigh Bhig – on Easter Sunday. (you can read more about it here)
We were invited because we are related to Patrick Pearse, one of the leaders of the Easter Rising. My brother Fearghas and I were asked to speak at this event. “Wasn’t it interesting”, I mused, “that we were two brothers here again, one a schoolmaster and the other, an artist…” (Patrick was a schoolmaster and his brother Willie was an artist).
Fleadh an Turlaigh Bhig, Ros Muc
Bhuel, bhí sé go h-iontach a bheith i láthair i Ros Muc i mbliana le hÉirí amach na Cásca a chomóradh, céad bhliain níos déanaí. Bhí brat na hÉireann ag foluain i ngach gáirdín agus cuma álainn ar an cheantar ar fad. Bhí gach sórt imeacht ar siúl – ócáidí do pháistí, do dhéagóirí, do stairithe, do rothaithe(!) do ghaolta agus do chairde – ní fheicfear a leithéidí aríst ann.
Tá cór iontach ag Ros Muc, faoi stiúir ag Cathy Ní Chonaola, agus chan siad ag aifreann Domhnach Cásca agus aríst ag Teach an Phiarsaigh ar Luain Cásca. Chan Jimí Ó Ceannabháin agus Briocán Bairéad chomh maith agus bhí Raidió na Gaeltachta ann leis an ócáid a thaifeadadh ar an dá lá)
Is dóigh gurb é an rud is támhachtaí a thárla ná “Fleadh an Turlaigh Bhig” sa Chrannóg. Tháinig thart ar céad daoine le chéile le comóradh a dhéanamh ar an bhfleadh a chuir Pádraic Mac Piarais ar siúl san áit céanna fadó. Bhí béile deas againn, agus ceol agus craic, insan halla mór a bhí maisithe le pictiúirí álainne de chuid ealaíontóirí na h-áite. Bhí mo phictiúr den Phiarsach ag crochadh ann freisin, pictiúr a bhronn mé ar an Chrannóg ar Aoine an Chéasta.
Fearghas Mac Lochlainn ag canadh Caoineadh na dTrí Mhuire ag ócáid chomórtha i gCnoc an Arbhair i mí Aibreáin
Back in Dublin for Easter Tuesday, there was a special ceremony at Arbour Hill, where the leaders who were executed had been quickly buried after the Rising. A solemn ceremony with military honours, a lone bagpiper, prayers, songs and poems. I had the honour of placing a single white rose on the headstone of my great granduncle, the artist Willie Pearse.
You know, I was involved in curating two group shows this year – “Rising” in the old monastery of Mount Argus and “Republic”, co-curated with Olivier Cornet. I think we both thought that there wouldn’t be many contemporary art exhibitions dealing with the Rising and we felt very strongly about it – so we did it ourselves. I’ve included two videos below featuring the exhibitions but if you happen to be viewing this on an Ipad, it seems that you won’t see them immediately. You have to click through into the blog to see them. They’re only a couple of minutes each.
More about “Republic” at the Olivier Cornet Gallery here
Bhí mé fhéin agus mo chlann ag searmanais speisialta i bPríosún Chill Mhaighneann ar an 3ú lá de mhí Bealtaine ach bhí rud amháin eile an lá sin (an lá ar cuireadh an Piarsach chun báis) ar thug ardú meanman domsa. ‘Sé sin an searmanais beag a bhí againn um thráthnóna i Músaem na bPiarsach i Ráth Fearnáin. Chuir mé crann dara ag fás i gcuimhne an Phiarsaigh.
On the third of May, I was at the Pearse Museum in Rathfarnham to plant an oak tree in memory of Patrick Pearse, who was executed on this day, one hundred years ago. It meant a lot to me to have been asked and it was a lovely occasion. My nephew Eoin Gregory was at hand with the watering can and it reminded me of a photograph from an old family photo album. My father planting a tree in the garden of Scoil Bhríde in Oakley Road to remember Pearse after fifty years.
Brian Crowley, director of the Pearse Museum, Eoin Gregory, director of water and Kevin Hutchinson, President of the Tree Council and meself, digging the hole.
Mar chuid de chlár Scoil Samhraidh an Phiarsaigh i Ros Muc i mí Iúil, thaispeáin mé mo ghearrscannán “Ar theacht an tSamhraidh” don chéad uair i Scoil Náisiúnta an Ghoirt Mhóir. Cuid den togra ealaíne “Ag Seasamh an Fhóid” a bhí ann, togra a bhí ar siúl agam i gcomhair le Nuala Ní Fhlathúin.
Nuair a bhí an chuid fhoirmeálta thart agus an phobail ag scaipeadh, d’imigh mise agus mo dheartháir (Fearghas) trasna go dtí Teach an Phiarsaigh aríst. Bhí soilse fós ar lasadh ag Scoil an Ghort Mhóir ach bhí muidne linn fhéin i gcoim na h-oíche. Chuir muid an teilgeoir ar siúl agus sheas muid ansin, le sceitimíní do-inste orainn, agus muid ag faire ar na h-íomhánna tochtmhara ag teacht agus ag imeacht ar bhinn tí an Phiarsaigh.
Buíochas le Dia, bhí an aimsir tirim, bhí an oíche galánta agus d’oibrigh gach rud gan stró don ócáid speisialta seo. Tá níos mó eolais faoin togra ar an mblag: “Ag Seasamh an Fhóid” anseo
My film projection at Pearse’s Cottage in Rosmuc, July 2016 (see the actual film below)
I’ll just tell you about the short film that I produced as part of my artist’s residency in Ros Muc this year. It’s a collage of images, all merging from one to the next, telling the story of Patrick Pearse and my grandfather and my father and the influence and inspiration of Ros Muc from generation to generation. (There’s a link to the film below the next paragraph – if you can’t see it straight away, you should click into the blog itself).
According to the writer Pádraic Óg Ó Conaire, my grandfather was staying with Pearse in Ros Muc and he was the one in charge of the magic lantern, an early version of the slide projector. At night they projected images as part of the festivities of Fleadh an Turlaigh Bhig and this was the first time that anyone in Connemara had seen anything like it. So we decided to project my short film as a special commemoration of this event. Here’s the film below (if you can’t see it directly below here, please click into the actual blog)
For me, it was really about trying to reconnect with a part of me that was almost lost, a journey back in time, a search for that elusive thing called ‘Home’, perhaps. I have to say that it has been a wonderful experience. I created this film to try to bring it all together. It’s entitled: Ar Theacht an tSamhraidh. I was reading “Ó Pheann an Phiarsaigh”,a book of short stories by Patrick Pearse, and all the stories are based around Ros Muc, so I went around and photographed those places and created a sort of collage of images. My nephew Pearse McGloughlin created the soundtrack for it.
Fuair mé glaoch ó Joe Steve Ó Neachtain… “Bhuel”, ar seisean, “Tá Oireachtas Chois Fharraige ar siúl an tseachtain seo chugainn agus ba mhaith linn do scannán a chraoladh ann”. (Bhí comóradh speisialta ar siúl acu i mbliana, ní h-amháin ar Oireachtas na Gaeilge 1976 ach ar Éirí amach na Cásca 1916 agus ar bhunú Chumann Forbartha Chois Fharraige i 1966. Agus ní comóradh amháin a bhí i gceist acu leis an bhféile, ach ceiliúradh mór ar an bpobal beo bríomhar atá ina cónaí i gCois Fharraige).
So, oíche dé hAoine, i Seanscoil Sailearna, bhí ceolchoirm álainn ar siúl ar dtús: “Caithréim”, á chur i láthair ag Síle Denvir agus a cairde. Ansin craoladh “Ar theacht an tSamhraidh” agus ansin chuir Fíbín “Mac Piarais i bPictiúir” i láthair. Bhí cairde linn tar éis teacht ón iasacht agus – deirfinn gur iadsan an t-aon bheirt sa halla nár labhair Gaeilge (cé go ndearna John sár-iarracht) ach bhíodar an-tógthaí leis an oíche.
Now, I realise that a lot of terrible things happened in the world this year but for me, it’s been a wonderful year. I made new friends, met a whole pile of cousins (we had a special gathering of the Mac Lochlainn relatives this year) I even met an tUachtarán, Michael D…
I could’ve written about a few other ‘firsts’ for me (I was asked to open an exhibition, I was asked to write a foreword for a book…) but this blog is mostly about art so I’ll to stop now, for the moment.
Thank you for reading, thank you for reading throughout the year, thank you especially if you made a comment. Thanks for listening to me.
Yes, there’s a problem with homelessness in Ireland. It brings shame on us all – we’re supposed to be “cherishing all our children equally” but there are over 260 people sleeping rough on the streets of the capital every night and 70 families, still losing their homes every month. This is the concrete results of those “austerity measures”.
So the big news this week is that a group of concerned citizens took over Apollo House, an empty office block in Tara Street in Dublin and made it available to people who had lost their homes. Of course, it was an illegal act – but a good one.
The empty building was under the control of the National Asset Management Agency (NAMA), the ‘bad bank’ set up by the Irish government after the economic crash. Since the weekend, volunteers have been working flat out to make the building reasonably suitable as accommodation.
Apollo House, Tara Street (photo from Archiseek.com)
There has been a huge outpouring of support for the project, with more than €90,000 being raised through a GoFundMe page in the first 3 days for the “Home Sweet Home” campaign. It’s still going on – click on that link yourself!
Activists including singer/songwriter Glen Hansard argue that because the building is linked to NAMA, it belongs to the Irish people… “This is an act of civil disobedience”, he said, “We shouldn’t have to do it but the government is not doing its job to house the homeless.”
So that’s my Christmas story for you. It’s great to see the people caring about the most vulnerable in our society, even if the government doesn’t.
My cardboard crib at Mount Argus – if Mary came to Dublin today, where would she find a place to stay?
Nollaig Shona, a chairde. Have a lovely Christmas, talk soon, eoin
