Tuesday, 18 December 2018

Self Portrait

I don't believe that I have ever shared with you that my first love was painting and that at various times in my life I have been quite prolific. During the in-between times my mind was wholly taken up with poetry which filled and satisfied my being.

Creative poetry now seems to have left me high and dry once again ! So I have now returned to my first love once more and have set myself up in our spare room.

In the background are my glass paintings which provide a screen between two rooms.

Here is a replenished supply of my oil painting tools, the tin lid in the foreground is my palette.
I don't believe in wasting money on fancy equipment apart from 
my Peterson pipe and baccy of course - both very necessary to me!

Here is my painting, after twenty-five years of being in the doldrums. 
This is my first ever attempt at a self portrait (minus glasses and wrinkles of course - wink!) 
The background is Co. Clare where we recently holidayed.

Please let me know your opinions in the comments section.

Wednesday, 5 December 2018


I am not in my studio today. Waiting for the paint to dry is an excuse for feeling lazy, due perhaps to my nocturnal travels.

There is a portal in the bedroom that I enter that allows me to visit other realms of life. Last night's journey was to faery and I had some wonderful adventures with those special folk. We went to a hurling match which was quite violent at times, almost like a faery war but not. Did you know that outside of the arena they play their fiddles for the sole purpose of encouraging and enlivening the hurlers ? That was news to me.

After the match I made my way home via a coastal route that took me close to the sea where I saw an old chap fishing with his pole, dressed in colourful clothes and wearing a wooly cap. I think he felt a bit shy because as I watched the colours of his clothing started to fade until all that was left of him was a black outline that pulsated once or twice and then was gone for good.

The fisherman did appear again later and this time he was just an outline of himself sitting precariously (I thought) on a very thin, twiggy branch of a blackthorn tree. This time I avoided staring at him for any length of time in case he took fright again. 

My journey ceased near a mound not too far from where I live and very soon I was back in bed and sound asleep.

So What did you do before sleep
last night ?