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!

FINE TIME

Today the weather was magnificent, the sun shone on the sea as I watched a squadron of mine sweapers arrive into the bay of Saint-Malo in indian file, they were dwarfed by the huge white bulk of the Pont-Even, the flag-ship of Brittany Ferries, as she sailed towords the U.K. The sea was billiard table flat with hardly a breath of air pushing tiny wavelets towards the sandy shore. As I walked around the ramparts I reflected on my week in Ireland and how different the two countries are. On the inward journey as I came closer to Irelands green shores I felt more and more Breton/French.
On the way home to my family and friends here in Saint-Malo I became more and more certain of my Irishness.

The painting herewith is the replica of Endevour, captain Cooks ship, which was in port here sometime ago. It is a watercolour and has a matching view of the ship from the stern.

ON THE EDGE IN IRELAND

A pal of mine called Eoin O'Brien told me of one of his relations who passed away recently in Australia, he was by all accounts a bit of a 'tare-a-way', and his mother had carved on his toombstone.

"Unless you live on the edge you are taking up too much room".

What do you think?

DUBLIN CAN BE HEVEN

'Dublin can be heven with coffee at eleven and a stroll on Stephens green.'
I have just returned from a trip to Dublin, Limerick and Glenstal Abbey in County Limerick.

A mixture of business, culture, family, friends, painting and a wee bit of religion too boot. I shall write more about the subject over the next few days but in the meantime I will include a watercolour of a Dubliner who turned out to be a German jazz musician drinking a pint of Guinness.

STORM'S OVER

The storm's over

The tide's out

On the beach men are bending

Searching for cockles

Boats too lean over

waiting for tides to re-erect them.

The sea has run off into infinity

waiting to be called back

again and again and again........

St- Malo's flag

I have painted the city flag or 'pavillion' as they say in French. This one flies above the French tricolour in the city by order of the King and Emperor for services rendered by the city to the French state. Every citizen of the region knows it well.

Wind whistles

The shrouds all sing together when the wind tickles them.
The flags flap and stand to attention when the wind calls.
The sailors do their thing while the ordinary mortels run for cover.
The storm is here!

Cathedral square in the wind

When it rains it rains

Lucy's sailing class

Sunday morning, blue skies, the sea formed after the storms of the last few days. There were up to fifty surfers out in the bay in the warm 14° sunshine. Believe me this is not the normal temp. for January. The sound of the bells of all the churches in the town is wafting towards us as my wife and I stroll down the prominade. A great day to be alive.

WEEKEND Pen-hir, Finister

The weekend is upon us and people are rushing around looking for value in the winter sales. The value for money syndrome is evident and the wise words of Oscar Wilde ring in my ears as I remember his dicton, "people who know the price of everything and the value of nothing". I am a fan of hand-made tweeds, fine wools and mohairs, clothing of impecable cut and quality. These days few and far between alas, (I don't want to sound like an old fart but I love the attention to detail) we are surounded by the consume and throw-away attitude. Most of the clothing looks as it could after months of hard usuage when it is bought. Enought bile now, hope you likethe painting.

Cameret Sur Mer:

This morning the wild west wind tugged at my hat as I walked round the ramparts, so much so that I took it off and carried it in my hand. The sea was emerald flecked with white, and the waves crashed themselves on the rocks with a thunderous roar. The moon looked like a half-a-crown buried in the light blue sky, clear except for the air-line trails criss-crossing the sky making a tartan pattern. The sea-gulls kept a low profile standing in the lee of the corsaire mansions nestling together inside the ramparts and awaiting the tourists who would be pleased to trade a bit of their morning bagette or croissant for a photograph.

Fort National

Now that the girls are back to school without any problems I can restart my daily tour of the city ramparts. the sea was formed this morning and the windblowing wildly from the south west. The light was wonderful and the rain held off. The Fort National looked as wonderful as ever with the aspect of a childrens toy fort awaiting two little boys to start playing soldiers. I paint this fort often and include here an oil painting done during the summer months, and yes, the sea does get as blue as that.

Monday morning

The girls went back to school this morning with the sun only just comming up over the eastern horizon. The storm of Christmas and New Year is over and yesterday we celebrated the coming of the three wise men in French fashion by having a Galette des Rois, a sort of tart with fangipan inside in which is placed a miniature figurine. When sliced, my younger daughter who was under the table called out the name of the person to recieve each part of the tart. It was very strange but she managed to choose the right one and was given the paper crown.

It's stormy here with the wind ripping through the city, lead grey sky and the last of the christmas decorations flying by. The sea is turquoise, raging and formed. The waves crashing on the ramparts and the various islands off the coast. Such light as I find only here and in Connamara or the aran islands.

Tro Breizh

Each year there is a pilgrimage from one of the cathedral cities in Brittany to another. This celebrates the founding saints of the Breton religous calender. The sight of hundreds of people of all ages and social conditions moving in silence or singing hymns with their parish banners flying in the wind is unusual these days but this 'protest' is happy peaceful and colourful. The Impressionists liked to paint the 'Breton pardons' and did it much bette than I but my humble effort which you see here shows the arrival at Saint-Malo of this manifestation last summer. I hope you like it.

Breton Dancers prepare

Each year we have a fokelore festival where various groups of musicians and dancers come over here from other parts of Brittany and from much futher afield to exhibit their passion for traditional dancing. The colours are magnificent and the atmosphere electric.

Sailing ships at dock in Saint-Malo

The Sailing ship is still a reality here in Saint-Malo where the tradition of sailing and maratime activity goes back to the founding of the city in Roman times. The corsaires and filibustres who frequented the taverns of this port were well known and feared names on the high seas even more so than Capt. Jack Sparrow who is so well known by todays cinema goers. Some of the stories are worthy of a Holliwood production or two. My father was a seaman and I was born not far from the docks myself 52 years ago so my love of all ships sailing or Cargo is unconditional. By the way if you want to buy it don't hesitate to get in touch.

Stormy weather

It's stormy here with the wind ripping through the city, lead grey sky and the last of the christmas decorations flying by. The sea is tourquoise raging and formed. The waves chrashing on the ramparts and the various islands off the coast. Such light as I find only here and in Connamara or the aran islands.

Artist on the edge

When I write I do not wish to impose or even suggest an ideology. I wish to give your mind a rest so that the words frame my paintings, so do not expect great or even mediocre philosophy.

Budda said that the truth can not be spoken maybe that's why I paint. A creative person is nearly always a rebel and tends to know the difference between the intelegent and mearly intellectual and a by product of creativity is happiness. You should avoide any painter who takes himself seriously especially a portrait painter because if you find his work flatterning it is not honest. Many have made an art of flattery itself but I can't do that.

As well as that I find that I can't lean on the foundations of tradition but must try to escape it while at the same time honoring its achivements. I have seen what happens when we set out to distroy traditions in the China of the cultural revolution, the Roumania of Ceausescu or the killing fiels of Cambodia under Pol Pot. Let us not be worshipers of or tyranised by our past.

With this in mind I hope you find what I do interesting and relaxing.

By the way I am Irish but live on the edge of Europe by the sea in Brittany, in the city of Saint-Malo. The light here sings to me.