I am an artist born in Bantry, Co. Cork but I’ve lived in Berkshire, in the UK since I was a baby. I consider myself Irish (without the accent) and British (without the passport).
Like many did, my parents (and great grandparents) moved to England for work. We would go home to visit my mums family when I was young, as my dad would have done when he was around the same age (to Wicklow). As my sister and I got older, the lure of a warmer climate often took us to France instead. I don’t feel bad about that. I’ve always loved France.
It was hardest on my mum who missed spending time with her family. I love seeing all my cousins when we are home (I have quite a few in England too and if it’s a big occasion, we all try to be there). When we get together it’s really special. Usually, I’m planning my next trip back before I’ve even left for England but I don’t go often enough.
Ireland to me is big hugs, bonkers roads, bottomless tea, endless chats, Irish cakes and breads and a gang of us having a drink in my cousins place – O’Meara’s Bar in Goleen (a small rural village on south western tip of Co. Cork)
Being back in Ireland gives me an instant feeling of peace. The people are friendly, authentic and great company. The beaches and views in and around Goleen are another world. It’s hugely inspirational and not surprisingly attracts a lot of artists.
It always seems to go to too fast, but when I come home to Beenham all is well (another small rural village but in West Berkshire). It’s not all that different to Goleen (swap views of the sea with woodlands and the North Wessex Downs).
Beenham hill has a view that can take your breath away (but I don’t recommend cycling up it – unless you don’t want it back). I instantly felt at home when we first arrived 10 years ago and I feel a small amount of panic when I have to leave to go anywhere else.
Unlike most of my friends, I didn’t go to uni straight from school. Instead, I worked for a bit, then travelled up the east coast of Australia staying for a month with my Ozzy family, with a few weeks travelling in Thailand on the way home. It was incredible, and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat (but I’d pack a lot lighter).
When I arrived back in England, I was planning to study Fine Art, but before I even got going, I decided I wasn’t good enough, so I didn’t apply to a single course.
I used to think about this decision a lot, (though I don’t actually have any regrets). As many of you will know, it can be hard to follow your dreams, and fear can often make it seem impossible. With hindsight, fear was all that stopped me from trying.
I worked for a few years in jobs I didn’t connect with and then became so miserable that I finally enrolled in a degree in illustration. I was passionate about children’s books and determined to produce my own and I thought that would be enough to find success, but I was definitely wrong about that. It was a tough course and I scraped by, not really putting the work into the right areas always a feeling that I was behind everyone else. I loved the story telling, but I needed to change my work approach (and my attitude). It took me so long to figure out how simple it was to improve my confidence. I just needed to work on my basic drawing skills and stop trying to fit a mould. The rest would follow.
After a short time, it doesn’t feel like work, as you quickly start to see results. When I figured out I needed to be working on a 1 page story rather than a 32 page one – time sped up and I have never looked back. The uncomplicated version of my work sparked a wave of connections in my brain that made things fit together where all the gaps had been. It was like seeing in colour for the first time.
When I begin a new piece I like to dive straight into a painting – sketching quickly in acrylic so I can throw base colours down early on. I like to work with rich oranges and browns in the under-painting and will spend the rest of the time it takes to complete it deciding what to keep and what to layer over. These first marks in acrylic are much like those early decisions you make as a teen. Important: guiding, but ultimately it can be painted over if you cock the whole thing up (thank goodness).
If there is a plan, I still tend to go with what feels right rather than what is safest. My trial and error approach is both exhilarating and infuriating as often I take big risks and expect too much. The journey is the joy and I often find I need to remind myself to stay in play mode.
Every now and again, the risks pay off and for a period of time when I’m finishing the last few marks of a painting and while it is being framed, I am in a state of euphoria (and maybe disbelief?) that it worked out. There is nothing else like it.
Exhibitions and art fairs can be exciting and fun but (to me) also nerve wracking and highly charged, so I’m trying to find ways to relax this element more. Any ideas?
If you visit any of my exhibitions or see me at an art fair do come and talk to me. There is no such thing as a stupid question. Unless…I asked it. Then…maybe.
When exhibitions and art fairs end and paintings find new homes I can feel a little lost and empty nested so I’m keen to start on new work, repeating the cycle with a new story. I sometimes have one started so the beginning doesn’t feel so vast and off-putting.
I work from home – mostly in a studio we converted from our old front room. It’s small and a bit of a throughway, but has lots of light. I’m very fortunate that I can dip in and out of my work while still being at home (but I do dream about having a bigger studio some days).
I make paintings about places that invoke a feeling of nostalgia often depicting desirable locations, a sense of time passed and the presence of man; either through the landscaping or architecture. I prefer to work on a larger scale and you would think would I have some limitations in my studio, but it’s amazing what you can squeeze in there – especially if it’s tidy (which is never). Sometimes my work spills out into the rest of the house. It’s all fair game! I would really like to go supersize at some point in the future. Paint a wall or a whole room with one park scene – fully immersive; both to make and experience.
I’m always on the lookout for photos or locations that remind me of somewhere I’ve visited, that take me back to another place in time. I would love to hear about where that is for you and thoughts on what you are looking for in a painting.
Drop me a message to chat about your travels, or sign up to hear about my latest work being released. I don’t bite.