I'm feeling quite sentimental as I write these words. To have been present at Olive's last exhibition in 2016 was a delight; to be here for this one is an honor. Olive has created a home for artists around the world here in Listowel, and I am one of the lucky ones. Congratulations, Olive Stack! "The Giving Season" is a masterful exhibition, a bounty perfect for the month of angels singing, trees twinkling and hearts filled with joy.
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Irish coffee is needed.
And a wolfhound.
When I am here, I do not suffer the same wardrobe panic that I have at home. A few good things that all go together, a couple of scarves and jackets, two pairs of boots. That's it. I never feel like I have nothing to wear (like at home) and I feel perfectly put together wherever I go. Why is that?
It isn't expected here to have a new outfit every day or for each event. No one minds if I wore that sweater yesterday, or even the last three days. So this got me to researching... The average American woman has 30 outfits. One for every day of the month. About 103 pieces, of which includes 25 pairs of shoes. They also donate or discard 65 pounds of clothing a year. That's a lot of clothes!!! And yet surveys show most American women feel stress opening their closet doors because their clothes are unwearable, too tight, too loose or too new. And these are women in the most casual fashion country of all, where anything goes and clothing should be easy. One blogger suggested we ask ourselves one question before acquiring a new piece of clothing: would I want to wear this in Paris? Ouch. Out go my comfy weekend pants and that baggy sweatshirt I love. But it does bring up a great point - how many of us really, really love the clothes in our closet? Maybe a few stellar pieces (and fewer items in general) would help us answer yes to that question. In the meantime, I am going to wear this sweater one more day.
As we followed winding country roads past hillside fairy forts, Damian Stack pointed out this ruined cottage (STOP THE CAR!!!), which had me wondering if the prior occupants had somehow angered the fairies atop the hill. I think I will keep my feet firmly planted outside the circle...
Special thanks to Ger Greaney for all the wisdom, folklore and insight on fairy forts, and for making himself available for a phone consult during our drive through the country. Just another reason while Listowelians are magical! "When Fear Falls Away" - acrylic on reclaimed wood (press or cabinet door), 22" x 15.5". Inquiries. Available at the Olive Stack Gallery. Howling winds shaking the windows, then sleeting rain, gloves, hats and boots. A cold front camped in our lovely Listowel. It was a good day to paint. Sadly, it was also the last full day for my sweet guest, writer Avery Caswell (aka Leslie). She made full use of the time, visiting the Seanchi and walking in the footsteps of the great writers from County Kerry. And then she brought me vegetable soup from Lynch's Bakery, which went nicely with Penguins and Jaffa Cakes. The Stackmobile kidnapped Leslie for another whirlwind tour (this one local) to be sure she saw every last thing possible before heading home. I've been reading When Fear Falls Away by Jan Frazier. It was recommended by artist Dotty Seiter, whose daily blog delights me like no other. I sit in the coffee shop each morning, watching window theater from the other side of the street, reading this book and contemplating my surreal life. And then this passage, which helped me reconcile the feeling of home I have both here and there: There is just one word that comes to me: dwell. I have always loved that word, and that name for a place one lives, a dwelling. Life as a dwelling. A welling. Well up, spill and spill, until the whole world is spilled over, swollen, swelling. Dwelling. Life as a dwelling. Brilliant. I can be at home wherever I am truly dwelling (and welling and swelling and spilling). Like a turtle with its shell, I am dwelling.
And so we bid adieu to the lovely Leslie, with just enough time to get the Princess Suite ready for two new guests on Saturday. I hope they will be willing to bring me soup.
"Molly and Gabriel Have a Lovely Day" - mixed media on reclaimed wood (a press or cabinet door). Inquiries. Available at the Olive Stack Gallery. Oh my. We are back in the studio for another lovely day. These two cuties are delightful to hang out with, although Gabriel has developed a taste for the potato chips Billy Keane is now serving at John B's, which are beef flavored (actual Kerry beef in the ingredients). The things we do for our feathered friends. A quiet day for two weary travelers. Leslie is busy writing, I am making malarkey with paint. In between, we managed to get out for a little holiday shopping. It is Olive's birthday today, but through we tried to walk three paces behind her and say "your majesty" all day, she was very kind and freed us from royal servitude. The busy bees here are working to prepare for Olive's big art opening next week. "The Giving Season" is her first show since my last visit (August 2016) and includes her fabulous new paintings from Paris. I am SO THRILLED to be here for this show opening! I will do my very best to post her new work and video of the show for you, dear reader. Sweet Bridget visited us this evening. More GORGEOUS wood to paint on (including some teak!) and a new treat for us to stuff into our clothing - Jaffa Cakes. Delicious. I heard there are no calories in Ireland. Thank goodness. In case you need a bliss boost today, please enjoy the soothing sounds of an Irish waterfall from our touring this week: We didn't believe we could do it. But it's Ireland, and so we did. Two days of touring, sunup to sundown. Over 300 miles in the magical Stackmobile, in which the travel music, candy and jokes (oh, the jokes!) provide an almost irreconcilable contrast to the views. How do these even go together? The combination is ultimately utterly perfect. We started out in the Gap of Dunloe, a valley cut by glaciers in County Kerry. In between hopping in and out of the car to catch breathtaking views as the frigid wind whipped our faces, there was a sheep-chasing incident (they are such uncooperative models) which resulted in a lot of photos of wooly backsides. Off we flew to the Black Valley, which was the last place in Ireland to have electricity. Wild, unspoiled. Waving at folks hanging out laundry in the cold, admiring cyclists who labored to climb the hills...and at last, a willing woolen model. At the top of Moll's Gap, a delectable early lunch. Bowls of sugar cubes delighted me. Who can resist? A random road along the way led to a gorgeous sheep farm at the base of a rugged mountain. The owner was happy to chat and I believe was willing to sell us the farm, which suffered bitter winds running across the lake through the gap. One of her dogs was not so sure about us. The muted purples and greens in this valley were breathtaking. Chasing the daylight (which lasts until half past four), up, up up the mountains on winding switchback roads - wait! A white donkey! STOP THE CAR! Sigh. Isn't it cute? Back in the car to the tippy top where a copper mine from the 1800's stands like a silent sentinel. Warning signs of abandoned mine shafts and the very, VERY narrow road with no guardrails and a complete MANIAC of a driver (whoops! Did I say that out loud?) who actually did get us safely up and down the mountain...
Glanteenassig. Waterfalls whisper soothingly to lakes of fragile glass Rivers run red. Cheeks glisten in softly falling mist and tears. Indescribable beauty. Old stones hold pagan secrets speak codes; unravel ancient mysteries ogham, sundial, cross Kilmakedar Saint Brendan navigated frigid waters a floating coracle bound for new lands discovered America |
AuthorLola Jovan |