As I sort through my rock collection deciding which of the dozen-plus specimens are souvenir-worthy, guessing how much extra weight they will add to my bag, my departure feels real. I will miss my cottage by the sea, especially the bedroom. I’ve never slept this well in my life. I don’t know if it’s the mattress, the crisp cotton sheets, the small white room with the big window, the ocean breeze, the silence, or the lack of needy cats swatting at me. Whatever the reason(s), it’s been grand. My favorite time of the day is when I climb into bed, prop up the pillows, and read as the sun sets.
The residency has a small library, mostly books on Josef and Anni Albers which make for inspirational daytime reading. I have different requirements for my nighttime ritual. I need a good story. James McGahern, an Irish author I found in Carraig-na-gCat’s library, is my go-to read. His book Amongst Women is a perfect introduction to Irish culture. I’m now reading That They May Face the Rising Sun. It’s a quiet book about two couples whose lives intersect as neighbors in Ireland.
Rick Steves (the travel guru*) recommends reading facts and fiction before traveling anywhere new. The information you glean from guidebooks provides part of the story, but fiction has nuance. When you arrive at your destination, it’s easier to act respectfully when you understand the subtleties of a culture. I learned the hard way.
In 2022 I traveled to Senegal. I studied the climate and dress code, but I didn’t read stories about the people. One evening I was served a pile of sautéed onions next to spaghetti noodles. It was an odd pairing. I wasn’t eating a lot because of the heat, and when I saw this dish, I assumed the cook was making something I would eat that resembled spaghetti with sauce, only without tomatoes. After returning home I read a book about a Senegalese couple living in the States. It mentions them sharing a meal of sautéed onions with spaghetti noodles to ease feelings of homesickness. This dish is considered comfort food in Senegal. I lost a lot of weight on that trip. It was easier to prepare for this residency. A language is shared, food isn’t foreign (I’m a fan of butter now), and the dress code is similar—except for ball caps. Danjoe says I look very American when I wear mine.
I’m at the point in my residency where I begin to analyze the new work I’m creating during my six weeks of solitude. Before arriving, I saw myself outdoors capturing the landscape of Ireland. The patterns of the undulating hills and stacked stone walls link to my work visually, and I imagined they would have a direct impact, altering the trajectory of my work. Yet whenever I set out to draw or paint from observation, it feels wrong. I alter each piece until any illusion of depth or volume is eliminated, rendering the outcome flat like a textile. My early training as an artist was in working from observation; I’ve done this before with success. What is going on?
My bedroom at the residency with a Anni Albers inspired bedspread.
The work I’m making here differs subtly from my work back home; it’s becoming minimal, stripped of all but essential elements. I read Anni & Josef Albers: Equal and Unequal by Nicholas Fox Weber, the Director of the Albers Foundation, and two quotes stuck with me: “Anni made textiles in which thread itself, representative of nothing but what it intrinsically was, became the source of beauty.” and, “Anni maintained that art should never be autobiography; nor should it be illustrative of everyday sights.” Then I breathed deeply. I get her. This is how I think/work. I could loop Agnes Martin into this conversation, also. My lines, spaces, shapes, colors, and textures are the subject matter. Nothing else. They communicate all I want to say through their relationships with each other.
As I type this, the builder who has been working outside on the new studio for my entire residency wants to see my work. We have been watching each other toil away for six weeks, he with his hands and I in my head, and he knows I’m leaving soon. I tried to prepare him for what he would see by saying it may not be what he expects. The builder is rather young and sweet, as he explained that his wife is an artist trying to get her work out into the world. I think he was here to gather information for her. He said he knows little about art and hasn’t heard of the Albers Foundation. I showed him a few books, and he snapped a photo of a cover. When I showed him my work, he tilted his head and said, “Huh. I haven’t seen anything like that before.” I’m keeping my eyes wide open.
*When Matt and I were on an archaeological tour, a young man asked how many of us were there based on Rick Steves’ recommendation. We all raised our hands.
High tide at Prism Cove. Yes, google has this spot labeled Prison Cove, so I asked Danjoe its history. He said it’s Prism Cove, not Prison Cove. Maps have it wrong.
Prism Cove sounds better. The location is remote and it made me nervous being there on my own before. Now, it’s less scary.
My youngest son called this a “worm rock,” and he is correct! According to geologist Tari Mattox those white lines are calcareous tubes made by modern marine worms that were living on the rock. This was found at Prism Cove.
This my favorite property to date. Unfortunately it’s privately owned. No one is living in the house right now (summer home) so I jumped a gate to look around. It’s at the edge where land meets sea. The owner spent time and money to build a very well done natural looking gravel path with minimal fencing around the edge of the cliffs, so you can walk the entire property right on the ocean. It is stunning. And look at the top center of this photo. There is a picnic table. The house on this property is run down, but the land is well cared for. This is the property with the rail going straight into the water for swimming.
Close up of picnic table with view! You can’t tell from the photo but it’s on a hill and there are cliffs out there.
Whenever I encounter cows, they appeared shocked that I’m there.
East of the residency, on a hill that runs through a farm.
Here is the interior of the new studio being built. The inside will remain unfinished, as is (heated flooring + windows will be added.) It has the best view.
All of those stones are from the original structure that occupied the same footprint as the new studio. They will be put on the exterior of the building after it’s sealed with a liquid rubber coating, something they use in boat building.
James Turrell’s Irish Sky Garden is on the Liss Ard Estate. The estate is now a luxurious wellness center. A strange pairing, but I asked Danjoe to drop me off anyway. It’s a 5 minute drive from Skibereen, where we go weekly to get groceries. It cost to view the Irish Sky Garden and surrounding land, which is unfortunate because it limits who will see James Turrell’s piece.
You walk through the gardens on the estate to get to the entrance to the Irish Sky Garden. No one was around when I was there. I could have snuck in.
The estate consist of the Manor House, Lake House, Tower Lodge, Park Lodge and Gate Lodge. I walked into the Manor House and looked around. Very plush.
The only cat in Ireland that let me pet them.
At the SuperValue in Skibereen.