I'm so lucky to get the view from my studio that I have. Sometime Flake 99, Sometimes drama.
It's taken forever to decide what to do with the dirty knickers that were knocking around the studio but a trip to Michael Guiney's in Cork City centre gave me the idea. What better than an excessively decorated table cloth as the background? It's designed to give a sense of opulence ("Fine Dining" written in copperplate on the label) but is of spun plastic, not linen. It's badly made, the sides not parallel - or even straight, the scalloped edging misaligned on the corners. Disposable richness pretending permanence, designed to be thrown away at the first hint of a stain. So here we keep it, stained by the dirtiness of the sprawled knickers. Suture stitches are used where the knickers have been cut; padding stitch at times where there is an overlap of layers. Anatomy of the Perfectly Dispensable was first shown at the Things Daiktai exhibition
Thinking of Naomhóga Chorcaí in Barcelona
it was a beautiful day at the chq building in Dublin when I said goodbye to my piggy who now has a new home abroad. He promised to play nicely with Samuel, the other pig that is wending his way with Twrch Trwth to Eastern territories
Full catalogue at this link http://pigsonparade.ie/?page_id=5 Isn't it perfect how the little camera lens on the phone fits the eyepiece of my freebie plastic kaleidoscope! Photographed by Kim-Ling Morris
My English grandmother had this among her own paintings. It isn't hers, I don't think. She did mostly charcoal and wash and while her landscapes were lovely, I fear she often ruined them by sticking in rather wooden little figures.(Sorry about that, Grandmother, but I still love your poppies).
So there are two questions: Who did do this? It is more a sketch than a painting. I love the fast, fat brushstrokes and brief lines that caught the expression so well but there is no signature or clue to the artist Who is that dapper man? He was probably in England, perhaps 1940 - 1960s. Could he be the Jamaican aircraft engineer that made friends with my father when working together at a (Rolls Royce?) factory, just after WWII? What happened to him? Well, perhaps there is another question for me - Why did my English grandmother have this in her possession? There are those odd few minutes at the end of a clear winter day where the lowering sun sets the sky on fire and anything else it touches. The screen door looked like flames were bursting out of it. Then I realised that the patterns were from the swirling clouds. Photographed by Kim-Ling Morris
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