“A picture doesn't have to say a thousand words. Just enough of the right ones.”
I painted a collection of artworks showing scenes of Ireland as I remember growing up there many years ago. It took about two years to complete the collection, fourteen paintings in all, working on it part time. This is the story of how it came into being, and how in many ways, it eventually took on a life of its own.
Growing up in Ireland gave me experiences I know any young child would be happy to have. Living in Dublin and travelling around the Irish countryside with my family as my Da's work took us from one place to the next, I learned to love the Emerald Isle, rainy days and all.
By the time I was twelve years old, we had lived as a family of seven in Dublin, Ballyliffen, Butler's Bridge, Granard, and Strabane-Lifford. In most of these small towns, my siblings and I went to the local schools and played afterwards with the neighbourhood kids. I remember walking to school each morning with my new friends and having foot races to see who could make it home first after the final school bell rang. We played football and street games until it was time for dinner or time to do the homework.
I can remember walking over the Strabane-Lifford bridge to go see a film or get fish and chips with the whole family. And Fair Day on Saturdays in Granard, when all of the local farmers would bring livestock into town to sell: what a spectacle for a kid. You'd open the front door only to see a cow's arse looking back at you! My brother Michael and I would run rampant in town, scaring up the pigs and sheep, little knackers that we were. And fetching a pail of water for Ma in Butler's Bridge or Ballyliffen and lugging it all the way home, only to find a frog in it and have to go back and get another pail. Yes, parts of the Irish countryside were definitely not for the faint of heart back in the day. But effin brilliant all the same.
Later on, when I was a teenager and we settled in Dublin, my friends and I would hitchhike around Ireland on a regular basis. In particular, I remember heading off without a care to Kinsale in County Cork, the Ring of Kerry, Buncrana and Lisfannon in County Donegal, and Galway, Salthill, Spiddal and Carraroe in the west of Ireland. Devoid of mobile phones, the internet, social media, and even TV and radio in many places, our social networks consisted of the friends (and strangers) sitting around the fire of a good pub or standing at the bar with you. Traditional music, real conversations, some harmless slagging, and telling stories and jokes. The craic was ninety on a regular basis, and I encourage my own kids and “kids” of all generations to go ahead and just give it a try. Put the tech away the next time you head out for a session with your friends and force yourself to engage without it. You'll be surprised at how much fun it is and how naturally it comes.
Eventually, I grew “up”, and went to college in Dublin and later on in New York. I had the good fortune to have a father from County Cork and a mother who was born in New York City. Thanks to Ma and her U.S. citizenship, my siblings and I eventually emigrated to America. Ma and Da joined us many years later, when the nest not only emptied out but we had all flown off to America. What great parents we had, crossing the Atlantic to be with their children and grandchildren.
Now, although I studied engineering, mathematics and computer science in university, I seemed to always love art, at least ever since I was a 12 year old kid living in Dublin. So one day, in America, I just started to paint.
I went out to a local art store and bought some stretched canvas, several oils and the other materials I would need to start. My brother Eamonn had just got engaged to be married and I thought I'd give him something unique for the occasion. I called the finished piece “Connemara”, a reference to a part of Ireland's rugged west coast as I remembered it on those summer holidays, years earlier. I spent quite a bit of time painting it, and as it came together, I began to get compliments on how it looked.
Then I met an art professor. Dan Christoffel, a professor at Long Island University and a friend of the family, came across my “Connemara” piece. He remarked on how he liked the colours I chose for the sky, the cottages and the mountains, the overall composition, and of course the story it represented. Dan proposed he'd get an exhibition set up for me in the New York area if I put together a collection of 10 to 12 paintings similar in appearance and nature to “Connemara”. The idea was a collection of paintings depicting the story of Ireland, as told by someone who grew up there. I liked it from the beginning.
For anyone not familiar with the oil on canvas process, you often have to wait three or four days or more for each coat of paint to dry before adding another layer. Depending on the look you're after, you may have to paint as many as six to eight layers or more. Cleanup is messy and the odour of paint thinners hangs around for hours after each session. But the medium offers brilliant warmth, hues and textures and, importantly, it is highly durable and stable over time.
Why on God's earth would I want to embark on such a lengthy, work-intensive project with little or no economic upside, no promise of fame, no glory? But for some reason, the thought of just picking up a brush and painting the images in my head seemed strangely refreshing. And that's the beauty of it. I just went with it without giving my left brain too much say in the matter.
I began with images I had in mind for pub scenes, farms and cottages: actual memories I had of places I had visited in my childhood and teenage years. Perhaps I even threw a few dreams in there too. I decided very early on to make each painting simplistic, idealistic, without too much regard for perspective lines or realism, and definitely painted in more vibrant colours than were likely present at the time. And who doesn't like to remember great times this way?
An unexpected consequence of painting the collection was that I had to paint the original “Connemara” all over again. The colours of the first one were close, but I just could not get them to match the way I wanted the new collection to look. In my haste to complete it, I had also neglected to apply varnish to preserve the finish, a mistake this artist decided then and there he'd make once in his career. So I painted it again, essentially from scratch.
When the collection was nearing completion, I decided I wanted a specific colour frame for each original: a fairly bright white mat and wooden frames that match the colour of the emerald mountains and fields. It turns out I had to buy natural wood outer frames and hand paint each one to get the exact look I wanted. I know, I'm a glutton for punishment. Now I had my full collection, fourteen paintings, all custom framed, all in my favourite medium, long-lasting oil on canvas. And you can be dang sure I put not one but two coats of varnish on each painting too, after allowing a good six months for the oils to fully dry.
In the years that followed, I was invited to exhibit the collection at 12 to 14 galleries, cafes and upscale restaurants in and around the New York metropolitan area. This was a lot of fun, and I sold several prints at the exhibition openings, galleries and cafes. Sales were usually to someone who either loved the colours and composition of a particular piece or, more likely, had visited or were connected with Ireland, either directly or through their parents or grandparents.
I was never in this for the money. That said, it always made me feel really good when someone thought enough of my art to buy a print and actually hang it up in their home. But the real payoff for me is in owning something that connects me back to the happy times I had with my family and friends when I was a child. This is my gold, and I carry it with me every day of my life.
I really like the idea of keeping the collection alive and online in digital form. I want my kids, my nieces and my nephews to know more about where they came from. I want them to have not just the images but the great stories that make up a big part of their past. I tell more of that story on Medium, one painting at a time.
