Day 3, Wednesday 4^th March 2009

Rain on the windscreen.

It sounded like the northwest wind would lift the roof last night. I rise to see snow on the mountains inland and hailstones rattling on Cill Rialaig.

It takes me all morning to reload the van with my painting gear. With a packed lunch I head off hoping to find a break in the weather when I’ll jump out and set up my easel to capture the atmospherics. No chance. The surrounding mountains appear and disappear as rain follows hail, which is followed by more hail. I step out once but the gale blows, picks up to storm force and I have to keep well back from the pier’s edge. Defeated I return to the cottage, light the stove and start a small painting in the studio.

I am happy and cosy, painting away as the elements rattle on the glass roof above my head. My conscious is clear, at least I tried to get out but the weather won this round. I’ll be back. But for now, early to bed.

Day 2, Tuesday 3^rd march 2009.

Rising late at 8.30, a light rain is rattling on the roof, and the radio is promising big wind and rain coming off the Atlantic. I make coffee but skip breakfast and start unloading the van hoping to finish before the rain gets any more established. This was not to be, but at least I had packed all my wet gear. This includes my camouflage-rain-poncho; I probably look like a Vietnam veteran in wellies. By one O’clock I have experienced all four seasons: rain, sun, hailstones and a gale that just keeps blowing.

I light the stove and begin moving the furniture about to make my temporary home and studio my own.

During a break in the clouds I walk up through the village to find out who the neighbours are. On first impression they are mostly sheep, it’s amazing how they find any grass to chomp on at all, Bolus Head is still in winter and it seems they have nibbled away everything from between the rocks and gorse.

I start knocking on doors. There are seven cottages and four are occupied; myself, John from Glasgow, Angela from Cork, and Stefan from Austria. After some brief introductions I scurry back to my cave before the hailstones become too much for my head.

I make a couple of small oil-sketches based on some historical seascapes. It’s the first painting I’ve done since November. Bed.

My Cill Rialaig Diary.

Background

Cill Rialaig Main Street

There is an artist’s retreat consisting of cottage studios situated in the deserted ruins of the pre-famine village of Cill Rialaig, located on Bolus Head, South West Kerry, Ireland.  It is a wild and beautiful landscape perched on the very edge of the Atlantic Ocean. Each cottage is designed for one artist, simply furnished and modern conveniences are not provided. The space comprises of a small kitchen, small bathroom, a sleeping mezzanine and a studio to die for. There are no street lamps on Bolus Head but the landscape is full of inspiration and the local people are warm and generous.

In 2008 I applied for a residency and was delighted to be offered a place for two weeks during March of the following year.

Day 1, Monday 2^nd march 2009.

I have been packing and loading since last Wednesday. I finally fill the van with diesel and hit the road at 1400h.  The journey takes me across the country from east to west, from County Wicklow to County Limerick before turning south towards the county known as the Kingdom. Kerry is the home of my maternal ancestors. At dusk, after four hours on the road I stop for provisions, there was no more light to be squeezed out of the day.

Pushing on for two more hours in the dark, the roads get windier and narrower until a single track leads me up to Cill Rialaig, a little further up the hill the track ends altogether. I am relieved to have arrived safe and sound and enjoy a very late bite and a glass of wine.

My mobile phone rings – it’s Mario, a special friend from my Düsseldorf days, calling for a chat. You can run to the far edge of the continent, and up a dead end track but you have to turn off your phone to disappear.

I unload the things I need most and hit the hay at midnight – a tired but happy bunny.

This painting is called “Native: Big Chief O’Brien” and is one of five in the “Native” series. I had been carrying the images around with me for close to 20 years and have finally got around to using them. The delay is probably not such a bad thing, as I would have painted them very differently back then.

“Native: Big Chief O’Brien” 70x100cm, oil on canvas.

I am really happy with how he turned out. As usual the painting became something quite different to what I had planned. I started out wanting to paint a big head to hang in my gallery window. My further brief was to look for a landscape in the face, a rugged, weathered and gnarled image to be contrasted with a flat background colour ala Andy Warhol. But straight away I was so taken with his feather and plaits that I had to include them, thus reducing the overall size of the head on the canvas. I feel I did get the landscape in the features, but as far as the background is concerned I really went off the rails. I really like it, I think it complements and echoes the painting style around the features and has radiant heat in the colour while up close has a dreamy palette knife impasto.

The native theme arises from the term Native American, which got me thinking about the term, and how do we perceive it; when and where is someone native, and when are they not. So I decided to play on those questions by confusing the titles, where the name is a mixture of a “typical Indian” name combined with some typically Irish family name.

Day one of my blog,  more to come on day two.

work in progress, oil on canvas.