farewell

my cottage (on the left )

packing up the studio 

brave heart 

I am back in Canada now-in body at least. Time spent living and working at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre has deeply affected me on many levels and will continue to do so. What a magical setting to stir the imagination! I can’t seem to articulate all that the experience has left in my being, but I won’t hurry the unfolding either.

Brave heart (study) mixed media on mylar, 20x 34in, 2012

I want to thank those of you who took the time to read these posts and a heartfelt thanks to those who responded with comments.

I have met colourful characters here, spinning myth and truth woven and worn by families that have lived on the land for generations. As well, stories shared by fellow artists, musicians, composers and playwrights at Annaghmakkerrig deeply enriched my own spirit. The noise of life can really distort our ability to listen -when it is silenced,  the soul speaks about what is truly relevant. 

Black 47, study, oil/wax on canvas, 8x10in 

As far as  making art, I did delve into new work and it was great to have the much needed time to do research. I am still processing and distilling all that I have learned but was surprised at how engrossed I became with Ireland’s political and religious history and how deeply intertwined they are. Because of my interest in agriculture  I started reading about the great famine -or ‘Black 47’ as it was more aptly named. 

Admittedly I did not know much about it so was appalled and horrified when I learned that-in a very general nutshell- thousands of poor rural families were dying in their homes while food grown from Irish soil was being shipped to England for profit.

The Troubles

Annaghmakkerrig is only a few miles from  Northern Ireland and this close proximity kindled  my on-going fascination with Ireland’s political history. I was privy to engage in  conversation with some who had first hand knowlege of the IRA during ‘the Troubles’ and it was fascinating to learn about growing up during  such a dangerous time of turmoil and political unrest.

The Troubles, mixed media on mylar, 24x30in, 2012

And on a more optimistic and wondrous note I have developed a keen interest in the symbols of  the Megalithic Passage Tombs at Loughrew and Newgrange, built by Neolithic farming communities about 5000 years ago!

 The passage tombs have clear astronomical alignments such as the Winter Solstice Sunrise at Newgrange and the Equinox Sunrise at Loughcrew.  

 I will continue to investigate…as well I have become fascinated with Irelands’  protective and protected faery forts and the magical and mysterious power of the hawthorn tree.

So all in all I feel that I’ve accomplished what I set out to do. It was to be a time of transition, to find my way-perhaps a new way and  I will continue to learn about Ireland-the people, the land, the myth, the song.

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat
may the road rise to meet you

The Troubles

The Troubles, mixed media on mylar, 20x30in, 2012

Conspiracy Theory
 
A training ground for the British Army
Sorry to alarm yeh,
But they called it The Troubles
Cause they never really, took it seriously.
It was just quite handy
To patrol in armoured Landy
Streets and fields
With guaranteed hot meals
A foreign hostile land
Without sun or sand
Not too far from England
Cut down on fuel cost
And what of lives lost
Sure they didn’t give a toss.
They had this trick
Where they’d take a mick
Up in a helicopter,
Blind fold the bugger,
Hover, lower
Then kick him out,
Laugh as he’d shout
Or white light, white noise
For the Long Kesh boys
Internment – where you have a stint
At her majesty’s pleasure,
With no charge or jury to measure
The nature of your crime
Or length of your time.
They use the word
To hide the absurd
Internment – imprisonment
The Troubles - civil war
Plantation – occupation
People stripped of right
Forced from land and sight.
But back to living history
It really is no mystery
The Troubles helped the army
The little occupation,
Didn’t cause a refugee situation
People ran away,
To see another day
On foreign building sites,
Or worked nights
In a cousins Irish pub
Found a way to slug
It out
This Northern Irish rout
People fled,
Saw loved ones shot dead
And among the troubled faces
The army built bases
Blocked roads, built watch towers
To watch the people cower
And when the IRA got real power
By bombing a Brighton hotel,
Making Thatcher see the hell,
She had unleashed,
On many a person’s head,
Saw her own loved ones dead
So Maggie says,
I think it would be wise
To talk and compromise
And a quarter of a century later,
We still berate her
The hunger striker hater
And as we try and reason why
Too many people die
I say disband army
They have little sympathy
With the civilian population
They worsen a situation
We need an army of social workers
Physiatrists, physios, Doctors,
So take your 19 year old yob
And find him a better job
Train him in chemotherapy
Cause where I’m from cancer is the real enemy
The new land mine, death that takes time,
Killed slowly through neglect
And the politicians don’t give a feck
Them ex-terrorists got paid off
While the alliance got laid off.
My mum marched for civil rights
Joined the peace people, stayed out of fights,
Now she’s rolling in pain
Because the healthcare provision is insane,
While the politicians are rolling in sterling
Guess it must dilute the all-Ireland yearning.

Catherine Brogan