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REVISED 11/20/04, 6:12PM
PART 2 OF 3: COMING TO KNOW THE IRISH
During those years, I married, and had two sons Edmund and Thomas. They now are fine young men with excellence as their wake and prosperity in mind, body, and soul awaiting them if they continue straightaway. I decided in those family years to stay close to home, investing in the love and warmth of family life. I knew soliciting and networking is a grand Irish tradition, but I chose to stay in the quiet of reflection and the kind spirit of family and peace and spirit.
My forays into a world I noticeably retreated from brought me into Irish homes via the phone. Making myself accessible to any and all soon brought me into the eternal heart of the Irish-American and native Irish experience in America. They taught me about me through themselves and their own ancestries. I listened and also shared. I came to know the depth and grace and intelligence and integrity of the Irish. I brag not of myself, but of them, for I am them and have come to a fulfillment of life beyond the interior drama of creating art on canvas.
So what is an artist? Possibly just a soul whose chosen journey started before time, who had the unconscious desire turned by circumstance into reality on earth. Who saw, felt intuited, agonized, suffered, and not, spent days with the muses and won and lost, lived every moment seeking that which lay before him unseen but waiting for the veil to be lifted. Being a creature of light and all that light had to offer. Seizing life with hunger and passion. That very quality that undercurrents the human soul. Capturing glints of truth and beauty through a language internally felt and revealed visually.
Hard indeed but what a journey! I feel that there is no other journey so revealing and so compelling as the journey of a maker of art. I believe that art aches to reveal itself through the human heart. It runs parallel, and its proof is its endurance through time and through all cultures. Man needs to leave traces of his heart's inner beauty and hopefully finds the way to do so.
Man's nature is the veiled nature of God, I hope. That nature reveals itself in truth and beauty. I know I am part of an ongoing creative hunger revealed through the medium of my particular choice. I share it with you. I need to. I am compelled to. There are compelling reasons I chose to paint Ireland. Early in my career I said "I wanted to paint this small magnificent country before modern man changes her too much." They were prophetic words, as we can see in Ireland today. History continues, and so it must be and with it, change.
There are 31years of stories and encounters that make up my canvasses. For instance, the painting titled "The Irish Coast." It is 24"x36" on Masonite, framed in driftwood and 22-karat gold. I tried for three summers to paint this scene. Bad weather and slippery, grassed slopes pushed me back to wait for safer conditions. With my French easel on my back, and umbrella and paint bag, I navigated the final year's attempt and succeeded in traversing a sheep path on the side slope of Dunquin Head. A distance of 300 feet was fought for hand over hand sideways while ducking under a relentless seagull attack the entire way. Below me were black terrible rocks in a frothy surf and certain death if that flying fortress—or what seemed to be—got its way. Being a kid from the Bronx in New York City, I had no idea of nests and protective bird assaults.
Another painting, "A Shepherd's Farm on the Irish Coast," is one of my enduring favorites.
Upon observing my painting, he told me of errors. After his visit, I rethought my work based on his observations and knew he was right. A month later I flew back to Ireland and went directly to Pat and Mary Murphy's farm to really study the entire area in paint and notes. To make a 12-year story short, I painted over 50 small sketches and stayed most warmly with my new Irish friends. Pat was an old IRA sympathizer and many stories were told till 2 and 3 a.m. with waves and wind howling as backdrop just a hundred feet from his humble home. Those visits were loving encounters to the three of us. I'd walk his land with my gear in tow, looking and meditating on the grandness of life. It was all very good.
This page was produced by Joseph E. Gannon, and edited by Gerry Regan.
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