Two weeks in a pre-famine 1790 restored stone cottage on the edge of the world! Read my full blog post.
Cill Rialaig is a miracle of a place on the southwestern cliffs of county Kerry in Ireland. It was born out of the will power and vision of 80-year-old Noelle Campbell-Sharp who formed a conservation committee and renovated eight 1790 pre-famine cottages thirty years ago. Noelle is a force of nature unto herself – a former magazine media mogul, she is dedicated to the over 6000 artists who have donned the doors of Cill Rialaig. I have had the privilege to stay in one such cottage with the best view of the cliffs, and a generous skylit studio space for the past two weeks. The people of Kerry are warm a kindly folk. While I have spent much time in silent solitude, wifi-free, reading, writing and beginning to hone my 2D painting skills with acrylics – I have also enjoyed getting to know a handful of kindred spirits here, perhaps a third to half of the artists who rotate through the cottages, and formed friendships quickly and with ease.
The highlight of my time here was taking advantage of a glorious sunny day, the stars aligning, and heading out for four and a half hours with a local archeologist in search of 5000 year-old petroglyphs. She took us to a spot that she knew well, and we easily found a dozen or so fairly stunning examples of rock art on the boulder strewn meadows of Glenbeigh, about an hour’s drive north. Then she asked us (I was with two American artists at the retreat) to wander about and find petroglyphs. And I did! I discovered a rock that had not been registered or recorded before. It’s a significant finding, with little to no lichens, which means that the peat had recently cleared from its surface. My eye counted at least eight circles and a straight line joining a few of them, concentric and small stacked “figure-8-like” chiselled markings within larger circles. Our guide was taken aback, as no visitor had ever discovered new rock art before. She contacted me the next day to get my particulars and my photographs for the national monument registry. I have truly left my mark in Ireland!
I have struggled with a sense of insecurity – and it was virtually impossible to break free from the drive to render the land with paint – but once I let go of the urgency to create something with a semblance of realism, I was able to flow with my true heart’s calling, abstraction, and then overlay the works with sand-paintings of the petroglyphs, actual transcriptions from my photographs.
Another highlight has been getting to know Stephen and Alexis O’Connell – a couple of production potters who set themselves up a mere four years ago, and are working full-time to supply a few Micheline star restaurants and chefs in Ireland. They work with ash and minerals making subtle minimalist work that appears to be atmospherically fired, yet brilliantly all fired in electric kilns! We had a couple of great visits and found that, yet again, the world is a tiny vessel indeed: Stephen was in Delhi last year and was guided in his pursuits by my former mentor, Mini Singh! Alexis is from Australia, all sorts of points of connection, and many shared values. Good people.
Stephen and Alexis O’Connell @ Fermoyle Pottery
When I felt as if I had put in a day’s work in the studio, and rain was not driving down on my skylights, I rewarded myself with a little excursion to see some local ruin or small town, or to take in the salt air of the sea. I was gifted many angels on my journey – artists who know the land well who guided me to find the ancient monastery ruins, the standing stones, and literally gave me the lay of the land. I am thrilled to find myself in the global communications capital of the 19th century, where the first transatlantic cables made contact with Heart’s Content, Newfoundland the 1850’s. I walked the shores of the cable stations and my heart leapt to be filled with the scent of the Atlantic – the wind whipping through every nook and cranny of its cragged landscape. I couldn’t help recall my time growing up in New Brunswick and all the times we ventured to the coast. There is a real sense of home, but not home. The small mountains with sheep grazing within the confines of their respective stone fences take me back to when I was a wee lass, and our family lived in Edinburgh for a year. However, the glory of these glens, cliffs, islands and rockface are like nothing I have experienced before. Today the power of the ocean reared its fierce fury against our cliffs – I’m going to estimate the spray reaching over 40 feet!
Before I came south to Kerry, Ali and I covered a lot of ground in Belfast (warmly received by fellow ceramic artist, Michael Moore); the Antrim Coast (welcomed by our new Trinidad friends, Pat Mohammed and Rex Dixon in their seaside home); we visited the UNESCO site, the Giant Causeway, and its impossible basalt stone formations, walked the forests, and gallery hopped in Dublin on our 25th wedding anniversary. Ali also spontaneously stopped in Linsburn for the International Festival of Linen – modelled after the one in Quebec where I showed a few years ago, Biennale International du Lin de Pont Neuf. I connected with many people there and took in the deep history of the place. I am working on a textile piece that I will send back to be part of the 2025 group project – the Longest Linen Tablecloth in the world, sewing my ancestors into the tapestry of their homeland. We did visit Armagh, from whence the McMenemy’s hail, and I have many leads to follow up to find out more. We ended up having a lovely connection with the guide at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and wandered into the city’s annual Cider Festival, to take in live music and all-round top-notch people watching. We took the train to Kilkenny and met Tina Byrne at her recently established ceramics residency, Strata – and have bookmarked this piece of heaven as a place to return to as well.
The trip has been life-changing. Something in me feels more grounded and connected to a sense of where I came from, the land my mother’s ancestors would have toiled. I feel like a spec of sand on the beach of Ballenskelligs, one of many trillion, but all part of one.
I would like to acknowledge the support of the Ontario Arts Council in making this dream a reality.
