Lecknavarna

This is the second painting in a recent series based on the Lecknavarna townland near Killary. Here’s how the painting began – it’s a 12″ x 16″ canvas board.

Blue and red dominate and these are the colours that stood out when I was there. The fiery red is unusual for this time of the year and the effect was accentuated by the low fall of light. The mountains ( the Ben Coonas ) complement with rich tones of blue. I’ve accentuated the depth of hue in this initial sketch and I make a mental note to do some more studies like this soon as there is an immediacy and an energy to the piece at this stage that would work on a smaller scale.

 

First stage of blue road painting

 

 

 

Here’s the next stage. I’ve used some dark ink on the mountains and I’ve added more detail to the road and middle ground.

 

Second stage, blue road painting

 

 

 

 

I work with paint and ink together at this next stage and add some green to the foreground to give it more definintion.

 

Third stage blue road painting

 

 

 

 

The mountains have become a little too dark and flat so I attempt to lighten them next.

Next stage, blue road painting

 

 

 

 

This continues below and at last I feel that the mountains are coming alive. I referred back to the initial sketch to help me achieve this. The paint is still wet when I take this photo.

 

next stage, blue road painting

 

 

 

This is the same stage but the paint has dried and dulled a little. Once again, this will deepen once the piece is varnished.

 

Blue Road - finished painting

 

November Landscapes

Cover image – ‘November Pool’ by Deborah Watkins

 

 

These landscapes were worked together. They are all done on 5″ x 7″ heavyweight acrylic paper. The one above is based on a view of the Twelve Bens mountain range from the Roundstone Bog Road. I’ve kept the mountains sketchy and light to make them recede a little and I’ve used lots of thick paint and ink in the foreground to describe the grasses and this large pool. I didn’t take photographs during the process  – they were worked quickly and sometimes I find that stopping to take images interrupts the session too much.

I’ve called this one below ‘November Red’ – the colour of the bog has been exaggerated but the contrast between the paleness of the grasses and the peat itself is there.

 

November Red by Deborah Watkins

‘November Red’ by Deborah Watkins

 

 

 

This next painting was also worked quickly – I’ve used large brushes for the foreground and smaller ones to describe the hills behind. It’s evening so the colours are all quite dark. I’ve attempted to heighten the drama with this dark cloud shape that mirrors the swirling lines of the bog.

 

November Landscape by Deborah Watkins

‘November Evening’ by Deborah Watkins

 

 

 

A little too much colour for November? Perhaps, but is is all fading now and quickly so maybe I’m just taking stock..

 

Contrast

I started this one with a couple of others recently. It’s loosely based on some pictures I took out on the bog road this month. I think this one is all about contrast – between the black bog and the white/golden grasses, the darkness of the earth itself and the lightness and blueness of the sky and its reflections.

Here’s how it started below.

 

First stage of January Bog

 

 

 

 

Here’s how it progressed – I worked this whole piece very wet, playing with the inks and paint and trying to work with their fluid qualities. I love the way they react together, bleeding into each other like glazes fusing in a kiln.

 

Second stage of January Bog

 

 

 

I’m almost tempted to leave it as it is ( above ) but I go back to it once the colours have dried. I try to put in just a bit more detail and to describe the grasses a bit better and give them more direction..

 

Finished Landscape - January Bog

 

 

 

 

While I am quite happy with this one, I almost prefer it at the earlier first stage as pictured above – what do you think?

 

Still Painting

Still painting yes, but still using a roller and a very large bucket of matt white emulsion. I’d love to be one of those people who can manage more than one major project ( ie: painting the house and some other stuff as well – like the other kind of painting ) but sadly I am not and frankly it’s a wonder that the family haven’t starved and/or run out of clothes as this task has been truly all consuming. On the positive side though, the house has never looked better. Unseen corners that haven’t been noticed for years are emerging and EVERYTHING looks brighter – there’s a lot to be said for ‘Brilliant white’! I have had the occasional splurge of colour like this green wall (below) in my kitchen which I love. We have prints and paintings here that we have bought/collected and swapped over the past fiveteen fifteen years or so. The toaster sketch is by our friend Joyce Tansey and the Coffee Pot is by Blaise Smith. The print under the Toaster is by Kathe Kollwitz and the landscapes are by good friend and talented painter Mary Donnelly. The Little Trees drawing is by canadian artist Luke Ramsey. I love them all.

 

 

 

 

and just look at those shiny white skirting boards and that sparkly architrave – I do feel proud!

Here’s a bit of red in the front room below.

 

Red wall in my sitting room

 

 

 

I love red and also have some in my kitchen. The fabric in the blind came from Ikea – out of date now. I still treasure it even though it’s a bit faded. There’s ‘Jellybean’ our ginger cat outside on the window sill..

 

Ikea fabric blind in my kitchen

 

 

 

I’m almost there, just another coat of gloss in the hall and that’s the downstairs done. Upstairs can wait till after Christmas..

Soon back to painting on canvas then – I’ve a couple of hen paintings that need to be finished which I’ll post about in a little while.

 

Hen Paintings

Horse Study V by Debi O'Hehir

I’ve been working on a couple of hen paintings this week. I haven’t done any for a long while and we sold the last two of mine in the gallery at the week end. The subjects are our own hens and so I started by taking some pictures of them in the back garden. The two red ones are Rhode Island Reds and the grey is a Bluebell. You may remember I wrote about them during the Summer when we found our first egg.

They move around together and often imitate each others exact movements which is amusing to watch, a bit like synchronised swimming. Well not really..

 

Photo of hens by Deborah Watkins

 

 

 

I especially like the triangular appearance of their bodies when they lean over, it’s such a striking shape.

 

Photo of two hens by Deborah Watkins

 

\

 

Bottoms up girls! I love this pose too as they remind me of ladies in old fashioned bloomers..

 

Photo of three hens by Deborah Watkins

 

 

 

Here’s how the first painting started. I used a small 4″ x 4″ canvas which I think suits the nature of the subject and also makes for an affordable finished piece.

 

First stage of bluebell hen painting

 

 

 

Here’s the same piece straight on.

 

First stage of Bluebell hen painting from another angle

 

 

 

And here’s the finished painting.

 

 

 

 

I worked this in two sittings. I find the first stage easier as I am mainly concerned with getting the gesture of the hen across. The second stage is always more difficult as I tend to slow down and work more finely to get the detail right. I often find that I lose some of the energy of the pose while doing this.

Here’s the start of the second piece. I continue the painting around the sides as you can see. G will frame these in his own hand made box frames which will display all sides of the canvas, like the one underneath this image.

 

First stage of second hen painting by Deobrah Watkins

 

 

 

Framed hen painting

 

 

 

Here’s the second painting  after some more colour has been added.

 

Second stage of hen painting

 

 

 

This is the same stage but taken straight on.

 

Second stage from a different angle

 

 

 

And here’s the finished piece.

 

Finished hen painting by Deborah Watkins

 

 

 

This one has lost some of the brightness and liveliness it had at the earlier stage but not too much I hope. I find these a completely different experience to painting landscapes – it’s a more direct way of working so I find myself caught up in trying to get a reasonable representation of the subject. I’m less concerned with intangibles like atmosphere or mood. The hens are dear to my heart however as we’ve had the pleasure of owning our own for several years. It’s also something that has had a bit of a revival around the country so I find that people generally react well to the finished paintings.

Winter Waits

Cashel by Marianne Chayet

The first week of November has come and gone with more dry days than wet. It’s a remarkable thing here in Connemara where the rain is never far away. We feel grateful when we get a whole day of dry weather, even more grateful when we get two in a row. I find an excuse to go outdoors when it’s like this, everything else can wait; housekeeping, book keeping, laundry, shopping, even painting is put on hold. If I’m really organised I’ll put some washing out to dry first thing, so that I can leave guilt free.

I took these photos out on the bog road between Clifden and Roundstone. October’s gold has deepened to these Wintry hues, it’s brown all over and under – russety, chocolatey, chestnut brown. The light is low, shining across rather than above and making the brighter grasses glint like shards of coloured glass or metal.

 

 

Brown Bog at Roundstone

 

 

The water makes a silvery stripe against the bog and there’s an inky blackness at the edges where the grasses are reflected. It makes me think of a pool of mercury sliding through the landscape.

 

Photo taken at Roundstone Bog

 

 

 

There’s a stark kind of drama about it all, a bareness from the flat grey light of the sky that seems to muffle colour like sound. I like to track down the words, sometimes a verse to match the way the land looks. That’s how I stumbled across these lines from the poem ‘November‘ by John Payne.  I think they fit the mood well – the setting is an empty stage and there’s more than a hint of darkness in the shadowy figure of Winter, laying in wait.

 

 

The tale of wake is told; the stage is bare,

The curtain falls upon the ended play;

November’s fogs arise, to hide away

The withered wrack of that which was so fair. 

Summer is gone to be with things that were.

The sun is fallen from his ancient sway;

The night primaeval trenches on the day:

Without, the Winter waits upon the stair.

 

 

taken from ‘November‘ by John Payne ( 1842 – 1916 )

Blackberries

Blackberry picking is as much a part of Irish childhood as the 99 ice cream cone, watching Saturday morning cartoons and rice krispie buns. I think smeara dubha was one of the first Irish words we learnt at school and there was usually a story in the first term or an essay to be written on ‘Ag Piocadh Smeara Dubha’.

These photos were taken on a road near our home where my own girls go to collect the berries with the same excitement and pleasure that I experienced at their age. They trawl the roads and hedgerows and return with sticky purple-tinted hands, brambly clothes and plastic buckets filled to the brim. G likes to make berry smoothies with vanilla ice cream ( sieved to get the bits out ) and my favourite ( when the mood takes me ) is apple and berry sweet pastry tart served with piping hot custard. Yum.

Here’s some more pictures – this one below is a more typical bunch with it’s assortment of blacks, reds and greens and some empty stalks where the ripe ones have been nabbed.

 

Photograph of blackberries by Deborah Watkins

 

 

 

 

This next cluster is almost ready to bloom, each berry a strange parcel of swelling crimson lobes..

 

Red blackberries by Deborah Watkins

 

 

 

 

I like this next photo because it includes the berries that have just started to turn. Close up, the creeping mould looks more like sprinkled sugar than decay. Theres something lovely about it as an image of the cycle of nature, from earth to fruit and back to earth again in just a few weeks. A reminder to enjoy them while we can.

 

 

Photograph of rotting berries

 

 

 

 

 

Apple-Ripe September

Ripe apples, back to school, my birthday, blackberries, evening classes, woolen scarves, crispy air and pink skies. These are just some of the things I like about September.

We’ve been collecting apples from our trees for the last few days. We have just two – a crab and an apple blossom. The crab is still young so not enough fruits yet for jelly, but their colour brightens up the garden (below), a last hurrah before the Autumn settles in.

G likes to stew the apple right down to a pulp, then he adds molasses and pours it over yogurt. I like it barely cooked with porridge, a set-me-up for the day, delicious and all the sweeter because it’s our own. It was warm and bright this morning so I took some photos to capture them before they disappear into the kitchen.

 

crab apples

 

 

 

All this talk of September and apples brought the much loved Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh to mind. His poem ‘On An Apple-Ripe September Morning’ with its imagery of early Autumn and the threshing recalls another time. Men folk gathered together to get the crops in, neighbours and friends lending a hand or paying their dues and all the loose chatter and gossip in between. Nature soaks through the lines – mist-chill fields, wet leaves of the cocksfoot and glistening bog-holes. The last verse ends on a note of awe and admiration towards all this beauty  ‘I knew as I had entered that I had come through fields that were part of no earthly estate.’

 

On An Apple-Ripe September Morning

 

On an apple-ripe September morning

Through the mist-chill fields I went

With a pitch-fork on my shoulder

Less for use than for devilment.

 

The threshing mill was set-up, I knew,

In Cassidy’s haggard last night,

And we owed them a day at the threshing

Since last year. O it was delight

 

To be paying bills of laughter

And chaffy gossip in kind

With work thrown in to ballast

The fantasy-soaring mind.

 

As I crossed the wooden bridge I wondered

As I looked into the drain

If ever a summer morning should find me

Shovelling up eels again.

 

And I thought of the wasp’s nest in the bank

And how I got chased one day

Leaving the drag and the scraw-knife behind,

How I covered my face with hay.

 

The wet leaves of the cocksfoot

Polished my boots as I

Went round by the glistening bog-holes

Lost in unthinking joy.

 

I’ll be carrying bags to-day, I mused,

The best job at the mill

With plenty of time to talk of our loves

As we wait for the bags to fill.

 

Maybe Mary might call round…

And then I came to the haggard gate,

And I knew as I entered that I had come

Through fields that were part of no earthly estate.

 

Patrick Kavanagh

(1904 – 1967)

 

Polar Places

I came across an artist on etsy.com recently whose work I really connected with. I think this was particularly so in light of my own recent work about an imagined frozen landscape. The artist is Karinna Gomez from Fairbanks, Alaska in the United States. She makes small series of prints – mezzotints, woodcuts and etchings, sometimes handcoloured with watercolours as with the print above. This piece is called Persimmons in the Snow. Persimmons are an orange red fruit that grow on the Ebony tree. These trees can tolerate and adapt to a wide range of climates including harsh Northern weather. I love the striking contrast between the white hills and snow covered valley and the dark central group of trees that are lit by by these red speckles, a kind of  earth bound constellation. I love too the vastness and silence that is suggested by the empty retreating hills and the dark sky beyond them. The only colour in the piece and the only sign of growth and life is this tiny little fruit. My second favourite piece (below) is like the first. This one is called Land of Weather .

 

Land of Weather by Karinna Gomez

 

 

 

 

The features of the previous piece are here, light versus dark and a grouping of dark fruit lit trees. There is more sky here though and an icy breeze seems to move across in a flurry of cloud. The central grove is bowl shaped and is cradled by the expansive landscape on all sides. They stand like a resilient group of survivors struggling against the elements.

The last piece I have included here is a mezzotint called Icelandic Water below. This is a slightly different printing technique which allows half tones of colour to be produced.

 

Icelandic Water by Karinna gomez

 

 

 

Darkness dominates this piece, punctuated only by white streaks and lights. The snow capped mountain in the background makes way for the night sky dotted with a few tiny stars. The title suggests that the large expanse in front might be water. It is broken up with bright uniform shapes that look like something man made or are they reflections or perhaps both? When I wrote to Karinna, she told me that she is drawn to the histories of polar exploration and aspects of Northern life such as self sufficiency, independence and solitude. Also the weather, land and geography of the North. Her work is an attempt to make imagery that expresses these primary interests.

If you like what you have seen here, check out Karinna’s work in her etsy shop. Her beautiful limited edition prints are very reasonably priced.

Late Summer Hedgerows II

 

 

 

We’ve had a bout of hot weather since the last time I wrote about the hedgerows about a week ago. Since then the roadside plants have burst into bloom and the Montbretia ( above ) and Fuchsia are aflame with blossoms. I took these photos on a walk near our home.

 

Fuchsia and Montbretia plants

 

 

 

 

Here’s some more pictures of the Fuchsia. This plant is part and parcel of Connemara and it is in its full glory at the moment, slender branches weighed down with dangling blossoms.

 

Fuchsia flowers

 

 

 

 

Close up the blossoms remind me of tiny dancers in red and purple skirts, like a ragtag chorus line of marionettes..

 

Close up of fuchsia flowers

 

 

 

 

There’s a headiness in the air that’s hard to beat. It’s a combination of good evening light, balmy temperatures and real or imagined scents – I know these flowers don’t have a strong scent but there’s an atmosphere of sweetness a bit like the conjured up whiff of an unopened bottle of wine..

I stop to take a few more pictures along the way. I think the next one is Hogweed ( correct me if I’m wrong ) which seems unfair for such a graceful plant. I love its spray of seed like flowers, it’s own little bouquet.

 

Hog weed plant?

 

 

 

 

The next plant I encounter is the wild honeysuckle. It’s gorgeous fragrance alerts me to it’s presence before I spot it high in the hedge.

 

Honeysuckle plant

 

 

 

 

Here’s a close up. It’s such an exotic looking flower for this place, I am humbled by its presence. Right now there is no place finer or sweeter than the Connemara hedgerows.

 

Close up of Honeysuckle