AVENUE MOZART, Paris

The view from a flat in the avenue Mozart, in Paris. I like it, what do you think????

WORLD CUP RUGBY

Here with the first thing you see when you arrive in Paris by the TGV, a statue to the World cup for Rugby.

ZENZA the RUSSIAN POET and ARTIST

My Russian Friend asked to see a photo of my other daughter the older of the two, well here she is, she does not drink pints of Guinness as a rule, but she likes to grab a drop or two from my glass for Saint-Patricks Day.

AM I AN ARTIST????

The question as to weather I am or not an artist is one which I cannot answer but it seems that no one ever bothers to look at these messages I place on the world wide web. Am I a voice crying in the wilderness? Who benifits from my work?

THE SUMMER CONCERTS

BRALL was back and the music was good. I did many studies of the musicians and the singers during the rehersals and several on the night itself.

PORTRAIT

My friend, also called ERIC who plays the Bodhran, a traditional Irish instrument. This portrait is not bad by all accounts.

HOLY COMMUNION

My darling daughter Lucy made her first holy Communion last sunday and was as beautiful as a picture, even more so. I'm sure you would agree!

The morning after the nignt before.....

Well let's change the script! Hope that all of you out there who call in regularly find the below effort worthy of contemplation. The festival of books called 'Etonnant Voyageur' is over now and the weather was certainly astonishing for those not used to our little costal storms. The Belem was in port and looking good.

SUNDAY MORNING

I wish I could say it's a beautiful Sunday morning but ... there you go. It is, shall we say, GREY but look on the bright side, it's not raining, yet...

I often say to people, -if you don't like the weather here, like in Ireland, just wait 10 mins. The sun is always shinning it's just the clouds are in the way.

At mass this morning, yes, I go... the second reading from St. John apocalypse has a sentence interesting in the extreme, 22 17, The Spirit and the Bride, L'Esprit et L'Epouse disent...

The old argument about God's sex comes to mind. God as the beloved, the wife, The father and why not the mother,the lover, the partner, the confident, the best pal. How far removed from the authoritarian,vengeful old fellow sitting up in the heavens with the white beard ready to squash the life out of us if we don't do what we're told I like the feeling of intimicy that this notion gives me. What do you think?????

A friend of mine has a blog called The Sanguine Fan, have a decco as we say in Dublin, or a look if you'd prefer.

THE BOOK ON GLENSTAL

Several people have contacted me about my little work on the Abbey. It contains over 28 watercolours of interest and is bi-lingual, ie English and French, Anglais et Francais.

The translation was done by a pro not me so it is correct in every way. If you'd like a copy let me know 15 € plus some postage.

GLENSTAL ABBEY, Limerick, IRELAND

The abbey of Glenstal which is to be found in Co. Limerick just close to my birthplace is one of those places which very few people can be ambivolent about. I have written and illustrated a little book about the place and my opineon about it. It is sold in the Abbey shop and has had some success. The below is one of the many illustrations to be found in the booklet. Should you like a copy it cost about 15 € and is called "GLENSTAL, visitors view of the Abbey". Don't hesitate to contact the Abbey shop or myself at eric.duhan@wanadoo.fr

IRISH MARINE ARTIST

At last I have had someone make a comment on what I have been doing here on this little blog, I was beginning to have my doubts as to if anyone really does read these ramblings. Keep the comments comming and spread the wword if you find what I do of interest. It's tough at times to be all alone and without outside stimulation, especially for an Irishman in France.

The above aquarelle is of the ramparts just about the area of the Grand Porte here is Saint-Malo. Let me know what you think!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE WAITING'S OVER

The waiting is over and SARKO is it. Let's hope that he fullfiles the great trust placed in him by the people of France. The little Maltese faux-pas will be forgotten eventually if he gets the economy going as he wishes.

My paintings are now available at www.yessy.com/ericduhan

the above is Saint-Sulpice in Paris as seen and read about in Dan Browns Da Vinci Code

Yessy > Eric DUHAN > Gallery > Irish musicans,

Yessy > Eric DUHAN > Gallery > Irish musicans,

Election hangover

Well the first part is all over, Royal or Sarko?

Personally I'm frightened of both but not for the same reasons. If you want my opinon then feel free to ask me by contacting this blog, then I might have a notion if anyone ever does read these or if in fact they are a secret plot to get people to talk about themselves and divulge the intimate secrets which make them... well, themselves.

While waiting for the next installment in two weeks have a 'decco' as we say in Dublin at the painting herewith.

Election Blues

The day is nearly upon us. The French nation is about to go to the polls and start the process of electing the new President of the Republic. I can't vote, as I'm Irish

and not about to give up my own nationality to take that of my lady wife. Our kids are for the moment of both nationalities but I believe that on their majority they will have to choose one or the other.

The prognostic is that one of the 12 candidates will be elected. Ha ha, I hear you say, but to tell you the truth each and every person I have spoken to has been incapable of giving an indication of the 'right' person to choose. Who ever it is is going to have his/her work cut out for him/her as the whole system here needs to looked at seriously. I am of course, 'extreme centre', I never discuss politics or religion either in a bar or on my blog. The reform of the institutions of the Republic and especially the crippling civil service is a must, the disasterous 35 hour week as it exists needs to be scuttled. The European central Banks strong Euro policy is distroying the fabric of the Union as much as the hiatous of the French and Dutch NO to the late silly and enormous European constitution.

Whoever gets in better be able for a fight because there are large numbers of people who want no change and that my friends would be the most disasterous thing for everyone.

After that little bit of self expression I better post a painting to soften the page.

Spring has sprung

The mighty Belem, three master, in the port of Saint-Malo. Its a dream to paint.

Mont Saint-Michel

The most beautiful site and sight in a world occupied by man and women must be the fabulous monastery/city of the Arch-Angel Saint-Michael. The winged angel covered in gold leaf is crushing the dragon/serpent. The beautiful medieval armoured warrior protects the bay and the surrounding salt marches. If you ever get over to this area don't miss it. A visit to the city without going as far as the monastery is a bit like having a wonderful lunch but not having the desert. The lamb is particularly quoted and is 'pré salé' because of its feeding grounds.

Major Expo in minor city

Does anybody ever read these musings?

I'm letting you know that I will be exposing some work at the chapelle Saint-Sauveur here in Saint-Malo, intra muros (inside the city walls to those non latin scolars amongst you). Saturday and Sunday the 14 15 April.

Calm Weather for the Fort National, St-Malo

The sea
calm
The sky
criss-crossed
by
travellers
in the air
The rock
solid?
The sea soft?
Little do you know!

The Family

In thinking about the events of the last few weeks in my family I was taken by the continunity which is 'the family'. That is why I have made this compilation of photos including my grandfather, my mother and my own wife and children. In reality we all co-exist within each other and even if we do not feel inhabited by the ghosts of those gone before us they are as much a reality as we are. This is what we mean by 'the communion of saints' which we speak about in church.

Family get-together

The four boys and the four girls who constitute our family, the DUHAN'S of 12 Wolfe Tone Street, are gathered here to celebrate the funeral of our mother. I say celebrate because it was an occasion of relativly gentle and careing communion. We were, where possible, seconded by our husbands, wives, boyfriends or girlfriends and especially our own children whose task in the future will be to do as we have done and put each of us to rest as the time comes. The children enjoyed each others company and while effected by our and their own loss helped us to relativise the situation and sense the continuity which is 'the family'. My mother was a raven beauty in her day and her physical traits were written in the eyes and faces of many of her children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. Her legacy to our world is not without merit, she has left music, sculpture, writing and painting to say the least, but more importantly a careing tribe of individuals who survive in the chaos which we call modern living. The common link is the family, her family. God bless you Christina, and as we say in Ireland, may he keep you and our Dad John, in the palm of his hand until we meet again.

Just for the record; John, Barry, Eric with little Kay in front, Joan the eldest, Mick d'artist, Patty and Sue.

YouTube - Broadcast Yourself.

YouTube - Broadcast Yourself. storm video for you

Waves and the ramparts of St-Malo

High Tide and storm over St-Malo

YouTube - Broadcast Yourself.

Click onto the attached and get a low down on the man .YouTube - Broadcast Yourself.

SAINT PATRICK'S DAY

HAPPY Saint PATRICK'S DAY... Bon Fête de St-Patrick... Là Fhéile Pàdraig maith aguibh go léir...

Sun and Savage seas

Often when the storm ends we have superb sunshine but wild seas

Pure Fog

This morning the fog was thick, the sea was a distant sound, muffled. My minds eye placed the familiar landmarks in their positions as I arrived into the city. My walk around the city walls was like the images we see of angelic figures wandering around in Heven, all blured images, shadows of people and places we think we know. Then... a sound, a seagul expressing his displeasure at some henious crime perpetrated upon him brought me back to Ireland, Kilkee to be precise, and my first girlfriend, for whom my total admiration was seamless. She too had finished her 'Leaving Cert' (final exams before University and the rest of one's life). We were on the rocks called the Pollock holes and we kissed. Afterwards, I wrote a poem, the only line of which I still remember is; "such a pure thing to kiss in the whiteness of the fog with its endless invisiability inviting you and I too live forever".

Then I was seventeen, now a little older but still a hopeless romantic, some might even say just hopeless .

Look

Looking out to sea
you see what I can see
between you and me
it is quite lovely
which is certainly more
than we can say about
this bit of poetry

Beautiful day for a storm.

It's stormy here with the wind ripping through the city, the sea is more than wild but the sunshine is vivid, the visability sublime, and the colours exquisit. The wind tugged on my hat as I made my way around the ramparts this morning. It's still blowing a storm and a door is banging in the distance. I feel the wind stealing in and creeping around my ankles through the cracks in the windows and doors of the building. Eventually I will get up and close the door correctly but first I have to finish writing this for you.

Lunar Eclips

The moon, like a camembert being attacked by group of French diners, disapeared little by little last saturday night.

Old Faithful

My sister Patty giving time and much affection to the auld ones, Mother dear to the left and Nancy O'Brien RIP to the right.

Nancy O'Brien RIP

Seldom do we come into contact with someone who exudes affection, good humour and patience for a short time but over an entire lifetime it is practially unknown. Nancy was one of those people, never a cross word or a bad tempered jest. My daughter Lucy asked me about her relationship to me and it took me some time to explain and what I said is not even adequate. Nancy was a second mother to me. Someone who was always there, ready to listen and help, she often spoiled me and took my defence when I did wrong. A song was never far from her lips and even now I an hear her singing 'Sean South from Garryowen', or 'The Galway shawl'.

She was the most gentle of ladies and will always be with me, I know that she is up there now looking down and wondering what all the fuss is for as her funeral is planned. No doubt she will enjoy the wake much more than the funeral service and I will be surprised if the above mentioned songs don't get a tearful airing.

The return of Lucy

Lucy is back from Grenoble and her skiing holidays with her cousins, we collected her from the airport yesterday and brought her back to Saint-Malo where she dazzeled us with her beauty and personality. She wrote a poem/song to celebrate her return to the family. The four of us had dinner and I think we all realised how wonderful it was to be back together.

Birmingham oh Birmingham

Just in the door literally from a 5 day trip to the megalopolis of Birmingham where I saw great things, to be precise we, (my daughter Louise, my wife Colette and myself that is) spend some time in my sisters house in Solihull from where we made forays into the hinterland to visit the birthplace of Shakespeare in Stratford upon Avon amongst other place. The weather while bright was too cold for me to ply my watercolours thus I came back with photographic memories only.

The scones with jam and clotted cream were good but not as good as those from Cornwall. My sister insisted on having a family Christmas on the Saturday 17 February and had my nephew Kevin and family as well as my niece and her Richard de Dejay (sounds almost french). Tony my first Cousin and Wife compleated the picture. The evening was a sucess with my sister trying to kill us all with her splendid cooking and baking. It will certainly take me a week to loose the kilos attained while a guest in Solihull.

I'm amazed at the relative discipline of our Anglish neighbours as they Q'ed, the friendliness while walking in the park and the relative absence of 'dog shit' on the streets. The driving on the moterways was civilised, painless, polite and efficient. The return to France revealed Presidential candidates worthy of a comedy sketch, tons of 'Dog shit' on the streets and morose people with the sunshine gone out of their hearts (at least for the moment). I hope things get better soon and that the winter/election desperation depression is shrugged off as quickly as possible. Live and let live.

Music festival Saint-Malo

Each year in July /early August we have the "Music Festival" which brings together orchestras and choirs in various states of readiness, if you get my meaning. The one constant is Herr Brall of Dusseldorf who with a rod of iron cajols and teases the best sound from a wonderful collection of guy's and doll's of various ages from his home city and environs. The musicians come to St-Malo as much out of respect from Herr Dr. Brall as for the money. Many bring their families and indeed several have kith and kin who sing in the choir. They also come because they like the beach and the sea and when you visit the landlocked city you understand why. St-Malo opens its gates from this group each year and is rearly if ever decived by the results of the work put in.

I hope one day the city authorities realise the great good done by this man and his group and make an effort to recognise the fact with a Legion d'honneur, or at least the medal offered to many by the Ministry of Culture.

Herr Brall is a huge man with a huge ability to bring happiness to others. I hope he shall continue to come here for as long as he wants. I for one will be always happy to see him.

DUSSELDORFS (IRISH) GERMAN JAPONESE BRIGADE

Naoka is one of life's wonderful people, she is Japanese, artistic, ( she plays the most awkward instrument )and above all a lover of humanity. Humanity in the form of Gernot, a french horn player in the Dusseldorf opera orchestra.

This Gernot is a strange lad, although German he was brought up in Dublin and he has never lost the Celtic boyish charm that plagues us Irish until old age and can make some of us insuportable.

The two of the above have started taking Irish dancing classes in Dusseldorf and from what I saw the Riverdance company might as well start looking for new jobs.

While out to dinner in a typical dusseldorf kneipe we had schweinehaxen mit kartofflen und saurkraut and a reasonable quantity of very local beer.

Out in 'God's sweet air' afterwards, I noticed a gentleman of the roads huddeling in the cold and wished him good night. His immediate reaction was to ask where I was from in near perfect English and when advises of my Hibernian connections he offered to sing his favorite irish song. The rendition aided by his guitar was spectacular and suggested that we should not judge the homeless/sans abri too quickly.

As he sang his soul shone bright on that dark and cold night.

Paris by Day

This is the painting I had tried to put up for my visit to paris during the weekend, better late than never.

Ships In

I just been down town in Saint-Malo to take the picture of a 100 year old gentleman. I am going to sent it to his nephew who is for the moment in Florida working on a book, and unable to attend the celebrations. The man in question is an ex diplomat, son of a French diplomat of good family who served as French consul in Dublin at the time of the opening of the first Dail(Irish parliament) at the Mansion House (residence of the Lord Mayors of Dublin).

My daughter yesterday gave an exposé at school on the subject of the irish who faught in the British army during the first world war using the family photographs and material available she outlined the subject well. She spoke of Big Jack DUHAN her paternal great grandfather, a sergent major in the Royal Munster Fusaliers who was born in 1877 and served in India and South Africa before WWI.

That the man I was just with was active in Dublin( his University career in Trinity ) at the same time is wonderful. The world in which he finds himself so far removed from the Edwardian time in which he spent his youth. Let no man say "Thus far and no further"

Tomorrow we're off to Dusseldorf for five days. I'll let you know how we got on. Bye for now and sing Happy Birthsday for Mr. Alfred Blanche probably the last man alive who sat in on the birth of a great nation.

Paris by day

A quick run up to paris yesterday, so quick that I did not see much of the capital but the insides of trains albeit the TGV (the newest generation which are splendid and comfortable), the metro and the exhibition halls at the Porte de Versailles.

CONNEMARA SEA SCAPE

When the waves crash on the west coast of Ireland they send vibrations throught the whole island and beyond, these vibrations eventually get as far as me here in Saint-Malo and I rejoice.
The light shining on the Aran islands is difused by an ambiant humidity which is so like the early morning light here in Brittany that sometimes I loose sight of the fact that I am in one place and not the other. The solidity of the rocks and the liquidity of the sea sometimes seems to inverse in my minds eye as I sense the vibrations of both.

This painting I did on the Aran island called Inismor, or the big island, in English. I was the guest of two wonderful people and their family who lived in a beautifully build modern round house made of the local stone. Their welcome made the Irish formula "Cead Milé Failte," which means, a hundred thousand welcomes, seem as real as it is in such places.

TRINITY COLLEGE LIBRARY

The centre of Dublin is crowned by college green, the Georgean facade of Trinity faces the old Parliament building which now houses the Bank of Ireland.

If you wander into Dublin someday make the effort to walk under the large portico of the College and as you do you will step into a space which is as vital today as it ever was, the square in front of you is splendid and relativly silent after the cars and buses of Dublin. The bell-tower stands solidly at its centre inviting you to walk under it and do a 360° turn.

The library contains Brian Boru's harp and the magnificent Book of Kells.

Not to be missed!