The first entry in my next blog reads ‘Thai Curry cooked by Una. Delicious, food tastes better on an island after a day of outdoor activity.’
[Food will be an important part of the project since not only will it sustain us but also the evening meal will be a point of communication for everyone at a particular point in the day. We all fall into the routine of eating at 8pm seated around the table (and around the edges of the room since space is not plentiful in the cottage) when the day’s activities are shared and discussed.]
Next blog entry – written 22nd June , 2.50pm
I have just spent the morning drawing and painting. Every piece I did was unsuccessful, weak and poorly observed. I am pleased that I walked to the far side of the island where my embarrassment is hidden from the other artists. If I think rationally, it is many years since I have painted and drawn in this way, in response to the landscape. My drawings are usually referenced by the action of drawing together with the physical limitations my body imposes. Equally my drawings are usually big (approx 1.5 x 5+metres) and I am now trying to contain marks in an A5 sketchbook and a pad of A3 cartridge paper.
I am cheered up by the weather. It is fine today, a slight coastal breeze and plenty of sun. There are oystercatchers flying overhead – one female setting up a piercing cry since her nest is close to where I am passing by. The sea is as blue as the paint in my palette.
Later in the evening
I have found that I am not the only one to be experiencing dissatisfaction with their work. At the end of the day, others are voicing similar experiences so I have decided that I will read, walk, learn and listen rather than attempting to make work. After all there is no requirement to produce an outcome from this experience.
It's strange to write this from my house back in England, but this is the first occasion I have had to update the blog since my time on Inishlacken.
Arrived on the island after a calm crossing to the island on Big Pat’s curragh. Three of us made up the advance guard and we set-to, lighting fires in the two buildings we had use of – the schoolhouse and Finklater’s cottage. My first impression of the island was a silver sanded beach with rocky outcrops on either side. The land rises up to the water tower on the horizon and dotted to the south and north are ruins of stone cottages, last inhabited over 45 years ago.
After unloading the boat, the equipment and supplies need to be transported to the cottage where food will be prepared. This necessitates a walk of approx half a mile, not easy with suitcases, 5 litre water carriers and heavy blocks of Irish peat for the fires. We make several journeys and finally, when all is completed, I seek out my accommodation – known as The Shed.
I am sharing with Kate, a composer of Australian nationality but currently living in Holland. The Shed is a bit damp and smells strongly of sheep dung. I put my sleeping bag out and try to make it seem like home.
After four hours or so, the rest of the artists arrive, this time in a larger trawler that anchors in deeper water off the harbour wall. The curragh is used as a floating taxi to bring people to the beach where they wade onto the shore. More provisions (including copious amounts of wine and beer) are carried across boggy soil, rocks, over and around rock pools and sand. Finally we are settled in and have some time to make a first exploration of the island.
Just tried to upload images but unfortunatly the PC's here need the Canon software, which I didn't bring with me. So written descriptions will have to suffice until I reach home again, sorry!
Yesterday's drive to Clifden was spectacular; sweeping hills give way to mountains and lakes. The circuitous route followed the Inagh valley along a twisty winding road, often perilously close to the water's edge.
Rosie met me at Clifden. She is a painter and the project's curator. Her home and studio is in the middle of Roundstone, the mainland town, and it is open to the public during the summer months. Originally from Belfast, she was invited to do a residency in Roundstone seven years ago and stayed. This place has that effect on you, once here the outside world fades into insignificance and you are absorbed into the slow pace of life. The landscape draws you into its world, enveloping you in the cycle of life, into seasons and the natural world, of people and their place on earth.
I am preparing everything now for the trip tomorrow. Right now the rain is pouring down heavily and from the window, I can see the main town street is a river and people are running to their cars or houses for shelter. I hope it ceases before the boat trip. A trawler will take all the equipment, food and the like followed by a curragh, (a small four person boat). The Atlantic will be a force to be reckoned with if this turbulent weather stays overnight.
Its likely I wont be able to write again for a few days. But I will be recording and documenting everything for the next time.
The flight into Shannon was spectacular. The decent is over water with the green 'fingers' of the two peninsulars either side. There are distant views of hills and mountains and the flight takes you over several islands. An early arrival meant the morning sun was trying to break through cloud as the 'plane lost altitude, white frothy puffs covering the wings punctured by shafts of sunlight. Nevertheless as we land it starts raining, no surprise there, and I am worried that I should have packed more waterproof clothing.
One thing always strikes me when I visit this emerald Isle. Its the soft lyrical Irish voices. In the street, in this cafe, wherever, for me there is an immediate feeling of ease and security that the spoken language promotes. It is both the phraseology, the rythmn and the lilt. My mother was born in Dublin but left Ireland to live in England when she was in her early twenties. Something in these voices trigger memories of childhood – a happy time.
I have been thinking that it may be difficult to access the net once I am on Inishlacken and so I have devised a 'blog system' on which you, the reader. will have to trust that I am honouring. I will write my blog each morning (and maybe evening too) into my sketchbook and transcribe this whenever I can access a computer. I am hoping I can visit the mainland at some point during the period on the island so that may give me a chance to upload recent writings. I promise there will be no retrospective editing!
Now off to catch a bus to complete the final leg of the journey. I am going to Clifden but have been told to ask the bus driver to stop at the canal stage where I need to alight and hopefully meet one of the other artists to travel the last stage by car.
