New work in 2017, thinking about people’s ideas for the future.. the monsters have pulled off their masks and are walking openly amongst us, there is new ugliness of heart and spirit…. the future is in danger of being fucked…. they will leave you with nothing… Your Children Will Witness This.
Well we survived 2016, the loss of our icons, the rise of the cult of men-babies, the new racism and re-normalisation of ignorance, misogyny and racism…. it was indeed a shit year, full of shit things, so we kind of need to overcome.., and as artists, we often feel a responsibility to say/do something, to think our way around these horrors.
So now, back to the easel and the colours… trying to embrace the year and the possibilities of a new year. without getting wrapped up in the negativity… so we just have to work, think, consider, create, and resist.
As an artist, I always look forward to new work, to something new emerging and that is the positivity that an artist always carry forward. And you always hope that the negativity of the current world doesn’t pollute anything you do, and to a certain extent you make better art, and perhaps, through this, shine a little more light back on the world.
Artists often have issues getting work completed… can be so many reasons, creative blocks, issues with materials, fatigue, illness. And this is it, I’m here, the studio is down the hall, I’m tired and in pain/discomfort, it’s difficult to apply or concentrate and yes that’s the frustration..
Normally I’d circumvent these issues, but just today, it feels like I lack the required concentration and fear that id be rushing or making unnecessary errors due to this..
So for today, I sit back, contemplate the possibilities, and hope that tomorrow or later I’ll get in there and get stuck into the current, almost finished painting.
There are new meds and new looks at the sarcoidosis, X Ray’s and scans done and to do, but at the moment, the related arthritis and tendinitis are just pissing me off…. but I will channel this frustration and see beyond…..
Yeah, it’s been a right old shit of a year on a lot of levels…. we lost all our favourite singers (almost) a lot of familiar faces off our TVs, and, unfortunately, in my case, recently, some relatives, old and youngish… it also rolled over to the 15th anniversary of my sister passing, oh, I’ve just spent a month being barely able to walk because of the sarcoidosis… but a dose of steroids seems to be beating that down… so here’s hoping on that front.
The thing is that all this badness is not feeding artwork, it’s hard to concentrate when you’re in pain, so with all that in mind, I’m hoping that 2017 will run along a bit more smoothly on so many fronts… I am still doing a bit of painting and writing, but just not enough focus to keep going at it consistently… I just want to get my head down and be able to work… not too much to ask….
So farewell Bowie and Leonard and Prince, rest in piece Anne and Aunt Bridie, and begone sarcoidosis…
You will, as an artist, be asked about your influences and who inspired you.. almost as a way of looking to see if your technique or style has a category… but it can be so much more complex…. it’s not a direct line, or evolution…. often it’s a weird spark that sets you off on a path m a person you met, a colour out of the window of a bus, a music performance you saw on top of the pops in 1973….. something you don’t remember…. a dream.
I think I as much influenced by the attitude of Bowie or The Velvet Underground as I am by the fact I saw Picassos work in books as a child.. hearing Delia Darbyshire….. seeing 2001, the crude paintings or the Children’s Bible, art teachers in school, friends I met in my teens who explored ideas in a fresh way….. I saw Sparks on the telly, I heard poetry in random places, I read books about tesseracts… it all bleeds in, and if you’re lucky it slowly rises to the surface and you make a little sense of it all….
So, our 1916 commemorative print show has opened in the Galway City Museum…. it was a fabulous experience, and the official opening speech was made by Sabina Higgins, whose husband is the President of Ireland, so, very auspicious…. all in all it was a great experience and the Museum themselves were wonderful…
You can be a bit static, looping, redoing, keeping going but reverting back… getting tired and being unsure… I painted, repainted, erased, went back… and just as you have that sense that nothing is gonna work out, you get lucky..
The painting was thick, heavy and weary, yet, in a moment, I clicked with it, and with sly delight I felt a joy and comfort, the colours spread out evenly, and it felt easy to finish…
It was countless dragging hours and a quick flourish… and now, it’s a burst of fresh energy which should sustain me through a few more works….
Sometimes, some paintings, are simply infuriating… I often wonder how many paintings I paint, only to be repainted… must be loads of lurking sub standard pieces…..
Right now, I’m layering up, making decision and counter-decision, repainting, taking colours, then erasing them… maybe this is just all the process, always, but sometimes it seems to take so many cul de sacs… although, if you walk through a maze and keep one hand constantly in contact with the wall you will find your way through…..
As a child there were bombs in Dublin. We feared the nuclear winter, Reagan and Thatchers maniacal hateful grimness. AIDS seemed a threat to all humanity.. swathes of Africa slaughtered and starved, the stink of Apartheid, the coming apocalypses of disease upon disease… we lived through so many periods of war and hatred, so many periods of fear… But the world somehow seems worse now, the hate seems closer at hand, and the fear is so close to the surface that it seems easy to think that there is no hope… is there hope?
I am an artist, what can I do? Can I do anything? will it matter? must it matter? can it? I cannot write a line or spread some paint and say to anyone….”this is the path…” Twitter and Facebook posts might seem like a place to utter the right words… they are conduits for unity more so than disharmony, but I am not strong enough to compose, in a handful of characters, something that sounds like it can engender change.
I can go into my studio, but right now it feels like I would be locking the door to keep the monsters out….. if I write poetry, it would be a series of screams and sobs.
I don’t know if the world is a worse place, but I do feel more afraid, I have to be honest, there are places that are so beautiful in this world, yet I would baulk in fear at visiting.. does this mean I am terrorised? probably.
I don’t pray, but I carry a heavy heart for every lover and dream-carrier who loses their life for no reason other than the perversion of dogma.
I hope for hope, but I just don’t know…..