Commercial Christmas dries my soul out. I feel like a tardigrade in a tun waiting for my spirit to be rehydrated. Any motivation I was feeling has drained out of me.

I’m due to spend 3 days at the Schoolhouse for Art studio in Russborough

I planned these few days a couple of months ago as I knew I would need to replenish and now on the eve of beginning this residency I don’t know if I have the will.

I have time off from parenting and I know I love nature and I know I love painting. I just don’t have access to those feelings right now. So I’ll robotically go through the motions.

Again I knew this. This is why I’m doing this. ‘Moss and mycelium’ is my mantra, little by little build the world.

The ‘dead days’. The inertia. The inner critic. The resistance.

I sat at home the first morning procrastinating. I don’t have to drive far but I’m intrigued by how underprepared I am. If I was going for a day out with my daughter (8) I would have it all planned and clothes and food etc. but I’m not extending that care to myself.

With adhd inertia it’s all or nothing. If I’m into a project nothing will slow me down, not even sleep. But when I’m at those liminal stages, the edges, beginnings and finishings, that’s where things get tough. Unless I lean into the patchiness of it, a little bit here and there, pomodoro, atomic habits, until a big bit breaks off or I just make cumulative gains.

Day 1:

I didn’t get out of the house until 11am despite a close friend sending me images of moss and trees via messenger. Coaxing me, like a rabbit, out of my Christmas-lit burrow.

I’m on the back foot. No packed lunch. Today I will buy food. I’m like a mopey sulky teen with an adult voice in my head shouting about how ungrateful I am.

I trip over my own feet twice on the way to the car. As I drive to my location the faded yellow line of the hard shoulder emits a violet aura which alerts me that I am in fact very tired. I need to keep my expectations low today. Maybe just a few sketches and a walk. Groan.

On exit from Dublin, as the altitude increases on the Ballinascorney road, the sheep and rock walls appear, my ears cloud over, and I’m now driving through a painting. This lifts me.

I’m reminded of the poem To Put One Brick Upon Another by Philip Larkin and it affirms that even the choice to show up is a good one.

To put one brick upon another,
Add a third and then a forth,
Leaves no time to wonder whether
What you do has any worth.

But to sit with bricks around you
While the winds of heaven bawl
Weighing what you should or can do
Leaves no doubt of it at all.

As I drive even though it is only 11:30am the sun barely shines over the Wicklow mountains casting long cool winter shadows.

The mountains are a navy blue. I want to stop and paint but it’s impractical on these dangerous country roads and probably illegal. I’m frustrated. I need to solve this.

Russborough House & Gardens

I’ve arrived at Russborough. First a nature walk.

View of Russborough House from the far end of the ‘Lake Walk’

I spent two hours walking around and taking in the scenery. It really is a beautiful clear day. A plein-air artists dream. I feel quite guilty that it’s me who has the opportunity to be here. Ugh I really need to shake off this shame cloud.

I often wonder if it’s a fitness thing that I don’t have the fortitude to paint outdoors in Ireland. Even though it’s a beautiful day. Any wind stresses me out and the cold! Maybe it’s because I have such a dysfunctional gut that I feel the cold so acutely.

I’m feeling like sharing. I had my large intestine removed when I was 30 and have a permanent ileostomy. That coupled with a high gastric-colic reflex means I need the loo pretty frequently. Not at all practical for outdoor painting. If I want to get any time I need to not eat. This is not practical from an energy or heat perspective.

I managed a few quick digital sketches and I made friends with a robin who chatted to/at me on and off for about 20 mins.

I eyed up some undergrowth and thought back to a workshop I attended with Ellen Altfest. I remembered her work ethic and how she painted a tumbleweed. This has me thinking about our own Fergus Ryan and his beautiful tempura work where each blade of grass is rendered.

Thinking of artists like this resets me. It’s okay to focus on the detail. To take my time. I don’t know why I keep regressing to thinking I have to be some kind of production line.

Some Day 1 digital sketches. Having trouble managing the chromatic intensity with this fantastic blue sky.

It’s only 2pm but I’m very cold and my joints hurt. I don’t think I can paint today. I think I’ll go search for food. Murphy’s in Blessington looks good.

Tomorrow I might try the Parkland Walk.

On the way home I pulled over to capture the fading light on the Wicklow mountains. This has been something I’ve wanted to do for a while. Feels really good to finally take the time and opportunity.

Day 2

Today is overcast. It flattens the landscape making it soft and chalky with barely a cast shadow. What the landscape loses in shadows, it more than makes up for in the mottled, dulcet hues of lavender, pistachio, and ochre. I stop halfway to sketch the colours.

I’m feeling more grounded today. My body has almost accepted this new place and Christmas feels quite far. This is progress. I’m trying to make a plan for the studio today. I think I will try the Woodland Walk. Then my plan is to take out my charts from the past few years and take a look back over the work that I have done. I’ve been working hard yet I don’t see it as I tend to cram my studies into a folder. It’s almost like a tightly curled body that needs to be stretched out limb by limb.

This time yesterday the sun was shining over these same hills in a blinding fashion.

We’re in Monet territory here with this flat milky light. It’s so much more about the modulation of hue and maintaining tone. Unlike France though this Irish landscape is chromatically suppressed.

The gift of the few days was becoming clear. It was an opportunity to collate that which I constantly categorise and lose.

I started eyeing up every driveway in the hope that I could pull in and sketch a new vista.

After driving through Blessington I drove straight past Russborough house and there is an established set-down area (Poulaphouca lough carpark) to pull in and admire the lake. The lake was like a white sheet. Very different to the chromatic blue of yesterday.

The light changes quite dramatically in the space of 10 mins. It’s just enough for a quick digital sketch.

It is surprising to me how different the colour are in my painting than in the photo. It’s like two different places. This is what makes the colour study so important.

The tonal balance was razor sharp like walking a tightrope. Again hue shifts were more helpful and effective. I was having to fight back the chroma.

I start the ponder the effect of atmospheric perspective. I did a very interesting course over the summer with Peter Donahue on colour temperature and atmospheric diffusion. Something to do with Mie and Rayleigh scattering. I hate that I can’t remember it right now. My brain is so sleepy.

I enter the studio at the west wing, put on the lights and heat, and boil the kettle. I place some of my work on the tables.

3 years work crammed into a purple binder. My work, much like my body, could use a stretch.

I pace. I play some music. I get used to the space and observe my thoughts and emotions.

It seems I have over 100 of these charts. It’s quite nice and affirming to see them all out. I’ve never seen them all at once before.

Over 100 charts it would seem. My brain sprawled across the table. I created these as I felt like it, just trusting the process.

This has taken me a while. I can see why my students press me for a book. I think I’ll go for a walk now to ponder.

Woodland Walk

As I approached the wood I had to stop and capture some of the muted purples and greens. It strikes me that we have a lot of turquoise/teal in these landscapes too. Although you have to watch the chroma if you want to keep it real.

I went on the woodland and parkland loop and found some delightful moss.

Moss is incredibly chromatic which gives it a magical quality. My spirits really start to lift now.

I start to get excited. There are some ferns and very intricate twisted moss covered trees I don’t know what type.

Trees

I love trees so much. I think maybe I could be a tree portrait-ist. I keep putting it off, my painting of trees. It’s like saving your favourite bit of dinner for the end. The end of what? What is to be gained really by this procrastination? Is it delayed gratification or fear?

I just need to get tree painting. I remember working on an intricate tree painting in school when I was about 14 but someone took it or maybe it just got thrown out. I still feel sad about it.

Come to think of it though I did a commission a few years back of a mystical tree and I thoroughly enjoyed it. My sketchbook is full of trees and I have also done a number of digital paintings.

I stare at trees for hours. I’ve injured myself looking at trees. I am fascinated by tree tops and tree roots and the bark and just all of it really.

But I really love tree eyes!

And then I remember that fabulous anthropomorphic tree project Dessous by Estelle Chretien

No painting has happened apart from the digital ones. Before heading home I went back to the poulaphouca car park for another couple of digital sketches of changing light including a ‘nocturne’ (mind you it’s only 16:45)

View of Tulfarris across Poulaphouca Lough

Backlit screen of the ipad helps for painting in low light

Now off to Murphy’s for some grub. Tomorrow I will paint!

I will head to the studio and use my digital paintings as references. The colours in the photos are different but thats the problem isn’t it.

I didn’t capture as much detail as I wanted. My eyes are too big for my belly. I dont have the fortitude to stand or even sit outdoors for long periods of time and so I guess we’ll have to make do with ‘impressions’. I think of the work of Desmond Carrick.

A few weeks ago during class I commented on how purple the light outside seemed. A student of mine commented that she once had a tutor who said the different winds carried different colours. A south west wind being purple. The tutor she spoke of was Desmond Carrick RHA and it was then I discovered his work. It blew me away. I ordered his book and drooled.

Day 3

A word on ableism.

I am frustrated. I am unwell today. So I meditate.

I realise that when I view other artists as more able-bodied, and therefore more deserving of 3 days to paint, I am doing us all a disservice. I have no idea what goes on in the bodies of other artists. I may see them out in the fresh-air painting away but I have no concept of their battles.

I extend myself some kindness. I light a fire and have a cup of tea. I think I’ll stay home today and do the paintings from here. It’s still an uphill climb because now I have to ignore the roar of household chores and cluttered worktops. I’m lucky that I have a dedicated space in my house to paint even if it is cramped and cluttered.

Today was already set aside for painting so I get to prioritise that. At least I can clear a desk for painting. My head is really getting pulled though.

I realise that if I were in Russborough that I wouldn’t have that pull. That is the gift of a residency isn’t it. Immersion. Distance. Perspective.

Getting into flow

I want to paint the three views of Poulaphouca Lough. But first I will do a chart. I would like all three to have the same palette for continuity.

I have:

3 colour studies of that particular view
A sketch of the shapes
The cadence of 2 days spent observing and thinking
I have a few colour charts that might help me narrow things down.

Stream of consciousness: I’m thinking py150, pv16, and pg18, but I do see some pinks and oranges in my sketches so may need to pull a red hmm I take a look at my reds I need something dull. Indian red looks good but of course despite my attempt at an organised inventory I can’t find it. I’ll go with transparent red oxide old Holland pr101. Ugh the pr101s are a mess and all different (burnt sienna, indian red, red oxide, caput mortum). My mentor, Pete, mentioned it might have to do with particle density.

Inside or out?

I work on a colour chart and I’m so glad I honoured my process.

I don’t work with these particular colours often and the chart is giving me a way to get used to how they behave and interact.

With Carrick’s paintings a lot of the magic is in the ground . My chosen yellow (py150) is killing me with its intense chroma but I just love it and want to use it. And the purple (pv16) is very oily. I’ll wrestle it. If I had gone straight to painting I’d be hurtling my canvas into a bush at this stage.

I then need a break. I clean off my palette before I start the colour studies.

My palette is absolute chaos. No way this could have been done en plein air. I would have had to compromise too much. I don’t want to compromise. It simply wouldn’t have been feasible.

I did my studies and I’m glad. This is me. This is how I think and how I process. This excites me.

Colour studies using the same palette across all three

After my studies I prep a board and rub some thin layers of oil paint in to create a barely there ground and I start to dot and dash my colours on.

A ghostly underpainting ready to be bejewelled with broken colour

I love the intricacy of the work of Desmond Carrick. I love the movement of Van Gogh and the shimmer of Monet.

I love that each brushmark is like a stitch in a piece of embroidery. I love the labour. I love the repetition. I love that it turns into this precious jewel that could have been so many things each mark moving it away or closer to a parallel iteration.

Like beading a haute couture dress. The effect coming into play only when a certain amount of marks has been made.

I started the painting thinking ah I will complete this in the coming days but life quickly took over again.

At first a pang of failure but then I recognised the purpose of this 3 day residency for me …

It was not to produce. It was to reflect on and consolidate the year gone.

To stretch out my tendrils into the areas of my brain that wanted to experiment and explore.

To poke and play with some ideas that had been causing me to itch.

I believe that if you consistently follow the things that interest you (follow the dopamine) that you will find your authentic voice in art. The gong of internalised industrialisation in my mind rings on the hour about how I should do this and I should do that. I’ll let that bell be the old repetitive relic that it is while I let myself follow my white rabbit.

So although I didn’t produce a finished painting over the 3 days; I had a stretch, a reprieve and started the new year with inspiration and that is worth a lot.

Like meditation, playing an instrument, or tending a garden, it’s the joy of showing up in small ways consistently. That’s the good stuff.