NOTE: Scroll down for the gallery of all the paintings. They’re down the bottom, and they’re for sale (Photo-owners have first refusal)
When I was 14, fueled by a revival in the charts led by Showaddywaddy, Darts, Matchbox, and Rocky Sharpe & the Replays, several friends and I were rather fond of 1950s music. None of us could play any instruments, so we got a friend who could sing and together the 6 of us formed a band called The Blue Moon Boys
I also liked The Boomtown Rats, and on the back cover of their 2nd album, A Tonic for the Troops there’s a photo of Bob Geldof and the rest of the Rats all throwing shapes. On the biggest piece of paper I could get I drew an outline of the figures in that photo, painted them black, and painted a huge blue moon against which to silhouette them. Our band had their first stage backdrop, and I was happy for everyone to think the 6 Rats were us.
The Blue Moon Boys only ever did 1 gig, and by then 5 of us had quit - mostly in disputes between the Rockabilly and Doo-wop wings of the band. The singer recruited a backing vocalist, and the 2 of them performed with my poster as the backdrop, nobody caring it depicted 4 more performers than in the band.
In the end the boy we recruited because he could sing dispensed with the actual or pretend 1950s, and he mimed - to Looking After Number 1 by the Boomtown Rats.
So it was that decades later, in the early hours of Saturday morning last, while painting a group of people in Shanghai looking at jellyfish in an aquarium that rendered them as silhouettes, that I on the live video stream told people I was painting The Boomtown Rats. You give me your memories, and I paint mine.
I love how in our heads images - from our past, our hopes, our happiest and saddest times, realised and not - all whirl around crashing into one another and merging into each other, sometimes pausing, mostly racing, but always with no regard to time.
When I paint a lot, time doesn’t exist. I can lower my head to a canvas for 5 minutes work and raise it knowing I’ve probably slipped out to 6 or even 8 minutes, only for a clock to tell me 3 and half hours have passed and I’m in trouble with friends.
Mostly I paint the way my brain works, which is why I typically have dozens of paintings on the go simultaneously. Just before a show, online or off, I will have built up to where an impossible number of paintings can possibly be ready - because I believe that the final 24 hours can last 24 days. And I’ve often wished I could show people what those final 24 hours of painting for a show is like for me.
2 years ago, fresh from the collaborative social-media highs of my 3-month 3,000km painting cycle tour of Ireland, I had an idea. To take your images, your memories, and shove them into my world for just 24 hours, and I’d take a paintbrush and shove back at you what happens.
I needed an impossible number. Some of my paintings are on the go for years, most for months, and the lightning ones for 1 to 4 days. And yet I know 24 paintings in a day, in the right conditions, is possible. And I also know I can do 50. I just know. So 100 it would be. 100 people. 100 photos. 100 paintings.
It would have been easier - for you and for me - if I’d set up something to collate the images beforehand. Dropbox and Google Drive etc. make this very easy, but I wanted it all to happen in public in the one place in real time - where you saw the photos as I did and together we wondered what would happen next.
What happened next was that over 180 photos were tweeted my way.
A building in Kilfinnane in Limerick, a panorama of Killiney Bay, a view out a door of a Belgrade street, Puerto De Mogan on Gran Canaria, Errigal in Donegal, Dún Briste in Mayo. Peoples homes, holidays, pets. Their favourite flowers and mountains. Georgian Streets and doors in Dublin, Christmas decorations, Kinsale and New York.
Sometimes I sit very still. For hours. I’ve always said I’m very good at waiting. Why move when so many images are moving around you, and inside your head is a fairground?
From Dublin the inside of the National Library and the outside of Liberty Hall. Big tents, little sheds, a forest park in Cavan. A beloved dog recently passed, a grandfather and his grand-daughter, a correctional center in downtown Chicago.
I dive in with a building. It’s not working. And it hurts.
Powerscourt, Salthill, Barna Woods, Chapelizod. Ahh, Chapelizod.
A couple of months ago my painting arm popped lifting a ladder. Instant tennis elbow, waiting to happen since the first time 3 years ago that put my arm out of painting action for 5 months. Then I’d taught myself to paint with my left hand to carry on, but I wasn’t as proficient, and I got lazy. A 24-hour painting marathon was out of the plans. Until my sister, @aColetteDay came over from England to give me acupuncture. It made the painting marathon of sprints possible. Back on again. 3 days before the event, my arm went sore again. Enough to cancel - but I didn’t want to cancel. So I decided I’d say nothing but I knew 100 paintings was now more impossible than it was meant to be.
Sunsets in France and Spain. Sunsets in Drimnagh and Finglas.
I yelp. I shout. I probably screech. The arm hurts. Painting is one thing, but painting fast, and gripping, including unscrewing tubs of paint, that really hurts. And reaching for a tablet and a laptop. Luckily I’d decided to start the live video stream with audio off.
Scuba diving in Malta, a boat sculpture in Iceland, fireworks in New Zealand. Bray, Beara, and best friend Bill. A cat, a butterfly, a snake, a seal. A pastry, a breakfast, a bottle of wine.
I see shapes. Curves, lines, and squares are all shouting at me. Blobs of colours. 4-dimensional experiences of people reduced to 2-dimensions. I paint light through a door. I scrape colour onto a landscape, I paint the spaces between things.
A horse, a cow, a pint of Guinness. A toadstool, a child in a hat, a woman on a bed with a teddy bear. A water tower, a castle, a line of cars. Syria, Jordan, Israel.
There was a system in mind. I had a watch-list, to keep an eye for images for those who had been most supportive of the idea in its development. I had a whiteboard. I had a setup for photographing and tweeting paintings as they were finished. And I had a list to run through with my assistant.
A fox, a beachball, a boy on a scooter. Romania, Tenerife, Caprock Canyon.
Once upon a time I wouldn’t have touched a paintbrush if anyone was in even the same building as me let alone the same room. But I fixed that by going on my Painting Tour and learning to paint in public. That said, letting you into my studio while I’m painting is like letting you into my head. When I mooted this project a year earlier Andreea (@Brandalisms) volunteered to help me. So did others, but of all the people who had ever visited my studio, she had the right temperament. I don’t try and paint 100 paintings from scratch every day.
There were dogs. I wanted to pet them. There were trees. Trees that lasted lifetimes, in snow, in sun, and in leafless dignity. Red trees and yellow trees. Outside bedroom windows. Like my tree.
I concentrated on getting the video stream to work, rather than preparing a system. I gave up. Unsolicited Dave Bolger appeared in my DMs, like Mr Benn, threw numbers and instructions at me and like magic the project could begin with video. Andreea was delayed. You can’t be that good and not be in demand. With a couple of minutes before the off she has arrived, and I am happy with the video setup. At least the audio is off so we can hide our doing it on the fly.
The Connemara I tried to live in. The Donegal I tried to live in. The Liverpool I did live in. I am assaulted and overwhelmed by memories and beauty.
45 minutes in, the people of the internet tell us the audio is in fact on. Oh. We turn it off to come up with a plan. We forget to plan. Glasses. Painting with glasses is new. I can’t see. Where are my glasses?
Rivers, lakes, bays, and harbours. Iceland, Malta, Provincetown.
Once I start with the paintbrush so much vacates my brain. All the things I was going to do. The system. All forgotten. Pinning things around me would have helped. But I’m not looking for those solutions; I’m looking for how to paint the cliffs in Clare as I remember the cliffs in Clare.
Places I’ve been, Inchydoney, Manhattan, Lake Garda. Places I haven’t, Cape Town, Lisbon, the Grand Canyon.
2 columns. The hashtag and my mentions. I whizz forward looking for images. Then backwards. I am in twitter jail. Andreea holds her phone up for me.
A bicycle, a flock of seagulls, a skyscraper. A dog in the woods, a dog in a scarf, a yoda dog.
Usually, to paint fast, to paint naturally, I paint from the shoulder not the wrist. Or even paint from the whole torso, move with the paint. But with an elbow against big movements I am noodling away from the wrist. It is slow and my brain goes thud, thud, thud. I suspect it’s a clock and it’s not a good feeling.
Long grass, long beach, Long Island. 2 dogs on the stairs. 2 dogs on the couch. Wexford, Wicklow, and way up north at Downhill House.
I don’t like the paintings. They’re rubbish. I’ll stop. I can’t stop - everybody is watching. Touchscreens don’t like fingers with wet paint. Wipe. Or with water. Wipe. The stream is stuck. Turn it off and on again. Tick tock. We’re trending?
A favourite building in Dublin, boats by a lake, a rainbow. Blue, yellow, green, blue, orange, blue.
I flit from image to image. Andreea guides me. I’m an hour behind in the stream. Then I am up to date. Messages whizz by. They cheer me on. They seem to like it. I’ll go on.
I’ll paint the quays at sunset. I can’t - I’ve just painted a sunset. I’ll paint that beautiful coast photo. I can’t - I’ve just painted another one. Hey there’s a toadstool. Oh, and another.
In between the paintings there are the photos, and in between the photos there are the tweets. A tweet from an old school friend. A tweet from an old housemate. A tweet from my niece. Tweets from people I knew before the internet existed. And from people I’ve known only online, but for years. And those who step out of the internet and into your heart. And tweets from utter strangers. I swallow and carry on.
A goldfish turned 90 degrees. Children in hats, in high chairs, in facepaint, and in tunnels.
Then I see other photos. People show me pictures of their children watching me paint. One of them watching is enough reason for the whole project. I swallow again. Cramp in my foot.
Boats in a marina. Flowers in a rock. Posters on a wall. People in New York. People in a pub. People in black and white.
I paint over 150 paintings. But I do that in my head. Also in my head I decide which ones I can execute in the time. I do notice the people behind some photos; I don’t notice others. The images largely dictate. Why amn’t I doing buildings? I said I wanted buildings? And why is the sky blue after being yellow for ten years? Andreea reads out more tweets and hands me another cup of tea.
A beach with waves. A tree with birds. Feet with flip-flops. Palmerstown with a w.
Andreea rushes for the last bus. Just you and me now. I turn the audio on and let you into the vocal side of my head. I was hoping to break 1,000 views. Twitter tells me there are over 200,000 views on the video stream. We’re too far in to get self-conscious. I sing. I laugh.
Too far behind to take a break. If 100 paintings is the 4 minute mile, I am on schedule for running it in 8 minutes. The paint starts to behave. I start to like the paintings. Maybe I’ll run a 6-minute mile.
France. Italy. Canada. Hong Kong. Indiana.
12 hours later she’s back, with energy and food. Each time I postpone a painting I now know it’s less and less likely to get done. I pick them from the beginning. I pick them from the end. I pick them from anywhere. My best friend from school doesn’t make the cut. My sister doesn’t make the cut. My dog doesn’t make the cut. Oh for another 24 hours.
The 42nd painting is a simple flower. I can’t do it. I scrape it, I paint over it, I change it, I redo it. I can’t do it. My brain is shutting down. It’s a flower. A simple beautiful flower. Paint the bleedin’ thing. I inhale. I slow down. I say relax. I do it.
I shout, I bang, I hate myself, I love my friends, I miss my dog. Andreea hands me another cup of tea.
One more. 12 photos are in play. People have spent time choosing their photos, and I disappoint them. It’s down to two. I’ll do the kayak in the lilies. I wish I was doing it larger. No, I’ll do the other one.
- 24 hours
- 180+ photos
- 23 photos not seen
- 12 photos with dogs
- 800+ twitter interactions
- 270,000 video views
- 43 paintings
All 24 hours were streamed live (except for a glitch during painting #28) and recorded as they were broadcast. The day can be watched in 10 videos on JustinTV of varying lengths - until the archive is deleted, and then I’ll try and post them elsewhere.
Pat O’Mahony and Darragh Doyle were a great help as the event neared. Dave Bolger did much more than send a couple of DMs. The event was a video event but couldn’t have been were it not for a lot of work Dave took it upon himself to do.
Once upon a time I painted through the night all the time. These days I very rarely get 24 hours. The event could not have happened without my sister covering for me for 2 days. And if you follow her you’ll know she did more than that.
Andreea was my social media eyes, ears and mouth. Her photos, vines, and tweets energised the event so that you and I could interact and all of us could engage with the paintings and the photos. Somebody who excels at strategising was making my tea. I am, enormously grateful.
The 43 Paintings
See below the gallery for selling details.
Are the paintings for sale?
Yes. Each photo-owner gets first option on buying their respective painting for €25 despite varying sizes (Contact me by DM, email, facebook). If they don’t wish to buy them I will either A) Offer them to the general public for €35 each, or B) Work some more on them and then offer them to the general public for €50 or €60. I can hand them directly to people at my studio in Ranelagh, or post them out for €2.
What about all the photos you didn’t use?
With the owners’ permission I’m considering including them in a future project or 2.
It might be the 4-minute mile and I just took 9 minutes, but what the heck. I’d like to do more paintings, and I’d like to do better paintings.
Will you do it again?
I’m thinking in the spring. I’ll work on photo retrieval and selection, and I’ll let my arm get better.
See Also: The announcement of 100 Paintings 1 Day and check how I envisaged #100paintings1day might go compared to what actually happened.
UPDATE: The Aftermath
The event is over. None of the paintings will be sold without checking with their respective photo owners first. You can now see all the paintings and the story of their creation
To do 100 paintings in 24 hours, each painting based on a photograph supplied by 1 of 100 people on twitter during the 24 hours
In a 24-hour period tweet @eolai and/or with hashtag #100paintings1day a photo of yours and I’ll try and do a painting based on it in about 10 minutes. I’m aiming to do this for 100 people.
I like seeing what can come out of such challenges, of what they spark in me creatively. With having so little time for a painting I’ll be forced to make decisions very fast. I’m interested in what those decisions will be - over and over again. And I expect it to be fun.
The 24-hour period I’ve chosen is from 6 p.m. on Friday, November 15 until 6 p.m. Saturday, November 16, 2013 (10am PST Nov 15 - 10am PST Nov 16)
Is 100 paintings in 1 day even possible?
I’ve no idea. Most likely not, I imagine, but I want to find out. I do know that I see no point in attempting something I am certain I can do.
Can I watch it?
I hope that some bits of the 24 hours can be captured on video and streamed live, possibly via a Google Hangout-on-Air and/or JustinTV, but there should at least be a few Vines and the like, as well as a solid stream of photos.
How will you chose the 100 photos?
The ideal plan is to paint them as they are tweeted to me. It’s likely I’ll do them out of order if I think in the moment that it facilitates overall speed.
Can I send you lots of photos?
I’d like people to only supply one photo so as to allow the maximum number of people to participate.
Can I send you a photo before the 24 hours start?
I only want photos sent to me during the 24 hours of the event - because if I see a photo before the event begins then I’ll be painting it in my head and not truly doing the whole thing in only 24 hours.
Can I send you any photo?
Given that I’m going to produce a work based on the photos I’d like the photo you send to be a photo of yours i.e. one that you own copyright to and are happy for me to create a work based on it. It’s cleaner if I do this rather than risk infringing a 3rd party photographer’s rights by copying their composition or image.
You’ll retain copyright of your photo, and I’ll own copyright of whatever work I create.
Can I send you a photo by Facebook, Email, Google+, ADN, etc.?
I’ll only be using Twitter for this project because there won’t be time to check submissions by multiple channels. Also, the project is designed to take place in the open so that everybody can see as much of the process as possible. Using twitter facilitates this best. (see comments for more)
Can I point you at a photo?
If you do I probably won’t see it as I plan to just have twitter open. It’s all going to be rather frantic - at least in my head. So I’d like every submitted photo to be sitting in my stream or the stream with the hashtag. If I spend a minute following a link to get to a photo then a ten-minute painting becomes an eleven-minute painting. If this happens 10 times then I’m down a whole painting.
What if enough people don’t send you photos?
Then to make up the shortfall I’ll come up with some formula to randomly choose from my own photos.
What if too many people send you photos?
Then I’ll try and go with first-sent first-painted, but if the day gets that busy - online as well as offline - it’s possible I’ll grab them from my twitter stream almost randomly at times, or as suits the eye or the moment.
How long will you spend on each painting?
Well if I sleep, or otherwise don’t paint, for 4 of the 24 hours it will give me 12 minutes per painting, so in the region of 10-15 minutes is the target but there will also be minutes spent on taking photos and tweeting them.
What kind of paintings will you do?
Ones that don’t take very long. I’ll let the photos that people supply dictate the subject. They can be indoor or outdoor, landscapes or streetscapes, trees or flowers, people’s faces or full figures, pets or other animals, anything at all. Ordinarily I mostly paint streetscapes and landscapes (and birds on wires!). My guess is that photos of buildings will yield the best results, but maybe faces will. While I don’t paint people’s faces very often I do draw them all the time. However please be aware that a realistic portrait of your child in a few minutes is not likely.
What will a painting done in 10 minutes look like?
I don’t know. I’m guessing some will be very painterly, expressive even, or gestural, while others might be very simple compositions of shape, and others again might be somewhat abstracted or even decorative.
What size paintings will you do?
The materials I have in the studio will dictate sizes, but I expect a variety of sizes with the smallest being approximately 23cm x 18cm (9in x 7in) on mat board, and the largest being 60cm x 40cm (24in x 16in) on paper.
Will the paintings be for sale?
My focus is on doing the thing, getting the paintings done, seeing what is possible, and what comes out of it creatively. Money is not the object. That said, if I think any of the paintings are of a good enough quality I will offer them for sale - for €25 to the person who supplied the photo the painting is based on, and for €35 to anybody else. I will not be surprised if very few, or indeed none, of the paintings are good enough to offer for sale.
Will you expect me to buy a painting if I submit a photo?
Absolutely not. I see the whole thing as a kind of collaboration where people prompt me to paint - that’s what I want. If there’s anything remotely sellable at the end of it all then I will try and sell some things but that’s not a motivation or an expectation.
Is it for charity?
No. For two reasons. One, I don’t want the pressure of the paintings having to be of a quality fit to make money for a charity; I want to freely risk them being rubbish. Two, painting is what I do for a living but that living is a paltry one where I earn little more than the rent on the studio. If even. So, from my painting I earn only the ability to paint. Others feed me. I’m currently working on 2 paintings for charity, but this event will have nothing to do with charity. If it makes any money - I could use it.
Can I help?
Not in the studio - I’m sorted there, thanks. The actual painting will be fast and intense so I’ll be keeping distractions to a minimum to give the whole thing every chance. You can help by supplying a photo - especially in the early stages of the event to get it rolling - and by telling others about it.
Isn’t this just silly? I mean, even if you get 100 paintings done, won’t they be so rushed, so bad, as to render the whole thing as pointless?
You’re probably right.
How long do you normally take to do a painting?
Most of my paintings are on the go for months. Some of them have been on the go for years. In 2011 I did a painting tour of Ireland where dozens of paintings were done in 1 or 2 days each. But then I also started some others on that tour of which I’m still working on over 2 years later. Here are some examples of time elapsed to do paintings:
I’ve been thinking about this for 2 years. Last year it was postponed due to problems accessing my former studio.. I’m now settled in my new studio, and last week finally got glasses so I can return to painting at night. The event may well flop, but I think it’s worth a go.
Why don’t you do xyz or abc?
I don’t want to. Even if it’s a better idea.
So you’ll be flooding my timeline for 24 hours?
#100paintings1day - I’ll try to include this hashtag on all related tweets so you can follow or filter out as you prefer, but I’ll probably forget a few times. Also, I’m hoping to be painting most of the time so you will be spared for chunks of time.
Sometimes paintings flow from start to finish, in what feels like one sweeping movement - regardless of whether it takes hours or months. But other times they stall. They may take several wrong turns or may just end up at one point, a seeming cul-de-sac from which the end appears to be just over the wall but your head and hands can’t work out how to get that last little distance.
Sometimes that last little distance turns out to be not little at all. And it can take months or years to work it out. While the process happens in the head, and largely intuitively, sometimes it can be articulated as a literal change - or several of them.
On one such occasion I wrote down the changes I needed to make to a painting to bring it to completion, a painting I had at that point previously believed was very close to completion. Here is that list, followed by the completed painting:
- Lengthen the mid-level grey house to the left
- Curve the white reflection of left boat at near pier
- Whiten refection of near pier below left boat
- Whiten broad strokes near water, orienting to end of sandbank
- Lower the height of the headland from the top houses to the left edge
- Hedgerow the new top, smaller than original and disappearing over hill
- Orangify and re-orient seaweed
- Add refections of masts from near pier
- Add green reflection for green boat
- Highlight trim on lower grey house
- Add blue boat with refection in still white water by sandbank
- Add details in front of buildings at far pier
- Make buoys a buoyant orange-red
- Yellowify the stones in the near pier
- Warm the stones of the far pier but not as much as the near pier
- Angle the near pier down to the left
- Lower where the road meets the far pier
- Roughen the lower left field
- Re-orient the alizarin water reflection break-ups so it runs from near pier to far headland
And the final painting? It’s of Ring in Cork, just south of Clonakilty and across from Inchydoney Island. Here it is - with all those changes made:
Best viewed enlarged
I think I have a photo of the painting before I made those changes - when I find it I’ll add it to this post. The painting itself was a commission and you can read more about it here
Anyway, this is one of the reasons why a painting I’ve told you is minutes from completion is actually still in progress months later.
Due to the backlog of existing commissions and slow rate of finishing paintings this year, no new commissions will be taken on until April 2014 at the soonest - and likely to be later than then. That means I’m not in a position to do any commissions for Christmas 2013.
I’m aiming to have almost all existing commissions completed by the end of 2013. They are being continually worked on and many are very close to completion - but it’s hard to predict when any individual painting will be ready - holdups are largely due to having to do new paintings to make the rent just to hang onto the studio and the business (this is all I manage - if even), the little time I get to paint now compared to years ago, and losing momentum that both of the previous reasons cause when I finally get the time.
All paintings I am currently working on, including commissions, are on the list of paintings in progress
21 Miniature Landscape Paintings of Ireland
9cm x 6.55cm (3.5ins x 2.5ins), Card/Paper
Shipping/Packing €2 globally
11 paintings of Clew Bay in Mayo, 3 paintings of Bantry Bay in Cork, 4 paintings of Carrowmore Lake in Mayo, and a painting of the Magillicuddy’s Reeks in Kerry, a hill in Kerry, and of the Shannon estuary.
This is 1 image showing all 21 paintings; clicking any individual painting will bring you to an enlarged image of all 21 paintings
These paintings are painted on a variety of card stock of different thicknesses. Having struggled to get the photos to look like the paintings I can tell you it’s my opinion they look better ‘in the flesh’ and they do particularly well in numbers greater than one.
NOTE: More than I’ve managed to mark ‘SOLD’ are actually sold - check with me for availability.
“Kerry Hill”, “Bantry Bay 2″, “Clew Bay 5″ and “Clew Bay 8″ are sold.
Please NOTE the dimensions - these paintings are miniatures
If you’’d like to buy any of these paintings contact me (email, facebook, twitter DM) to pay by personal cheque/check, bank account transfer, postal order, or that stuff called cash. If you wish to pay by credit card I can send you a paypal link where you can use your credit card (but it’s my least favourite method as I have to pay fees).
With postage included the price of €37 is what you pay in total to purchase any of these paintings and have them posted to your door anywhere in the world.
Here’s a photo of some previous miniature paintings of mine (all sold) to give you an idea of what they look like when I send them to you. For presentation I mount them so they can be easily removed, and wrap them in cellophane.
If you can’t afford these, or don’t like them, you could still help me by spreading word of their existence - by tweeting, liking, sharing, linking, emailing, or even by talking. I’d be grateful.
Other Paintings for Sale
Most of my paintings tend to sell within a short time of being posted online (where I primarily sell my paintings) so typically not a whole lot are available for purchase at any one time. I keep a page of older paintings available for purchase.
Work on current commissions including #paintingtour ones (and paintings for hosts), is continuing. Please note that due to current painting commitments any new commissions can not be completed until mid 2014.
A short video (less than 2 minutes) of me painting one of my Birds Wires pictures from start to finish.
The painting featured is long sold.
I’d like to make more - and with far better resolution next time - but it takes a bit of organising as well as being able to see a painting through to completion in a relatively short time (days rather than years), which is not my storng point.
See other videos:
I spent 4 and a half years at my studio in the loft of an outbuilding on the cobblestone stable yard of Hillsboro’ House at the top of Stanford’s Hill in Coldblow in west Dublin. That’s four and a half years making marks with paint on the wall closest to where I painted my pictures.
In the final couple of days in my Coldblow studio I videoed close up my painted wall, for me mostly because I always looked at the wall using it for reference, for problem solving, and to lift me. This is that video. It’s 3 minutes and 20 seconds. 4 and a half years into 3 and a third minutes:
I always stacked paintings in progress up against the walls around me such that they made a collage of where I was currently at, a wall of progress I called each one. Sometimes the wall of progress against the studio wall that I kept adding my marks to was such that that the relationship of those marks to a finished painting was very obvious.
3 years before this video Markham Nolan visited me in Coldblow and produced a video of me in my studio (stictly speaking it’s more an audio slideshow)
I’ve updated the page on prints and cards of my paintings to reflect the move to using Redbubble - which was prompted by the ability to offer cheaper shipping to people globally, especially in Ireland and Britain where most of my customers live.
The cards are proving especially popular, priced at €2.79 for 100mm x 150mm with bulk discounts of 20% available if you buy 8 or more, or 30% should you buy 16 or more.
Prices for photographic prints start from €11.41 for a small (270mm x 203mm) as of today.
A list of paintings currently in progress. It’s long.
Some are only an hour or so from completion. Others are closer to the other end of the spectrum. And some will have their names changed.
- Warrenpoint 1 - Water (commission)
- Warrenpoint 2 - House (commission)
- Warrenpoint 3 - Mountain (commission)
- Oughterard (commission)
- St. Declan’s Hermitage (commission)
- Ballycotton Island (commission)
- Dunmoran Strand (commission)
- The Wonderful Barn (commission)
- #9 Fitzwilliam Square (commission)
- Mayo Moment (commission)
- Boyne Mouth (commission)
- Golden Leaves 4 (commission)
- North Antrim (commission)
- Newry House (commission)
- Crump Island (commission)
- Cat, Chair (commission)
- Nancy Blake’s (commission)
- Black Arch (commission)
- Glenariff (commission)
- Galway Lines (commission)
- Two Little Boys (commission)
- Shelbourne Hotel (commission)
- The Claddagh (commission)
- Pier Head, Liverpool (commission)
- Poplar Sunset II (commission)
- Cemetary Wind (commission)
- Bertraghboy Bay 1
- Bertraghboy Bay 2
- Bertraghboy Bay 3
- Bertraghboy Bay 4
- Bertraghboy Bay 5
- Wires, 2 Rooks II
- Causeway Coast
- Connemara Boats
- Passage East
- Heuston 3
- West Cork Trees
- Wexford Town
- Wexford Evening
- Sheep, Derryreel
- Yellow Tree II
- Deer in the Park
- Sheepscape 1
- Sheepscape 2
- Sheepscape 3
- Blue Night
- Steeple, Water
- Stone Wall, Red Field
- Glenbrook 2
- Ray Fields
- Glandore Bay - Adam
- Glandore Bay - Eve
- Glandore Bay - Long Point
- Round Tower
- Connemara Coast, 4 Views
- Sligo Boat
- Sheep Crossing
- Bantry III
- Bantry IV
- The Long Walk, Gulls
- Longford Town
- Hillsboro Woods
- Donegal Town
- Listowel Square
- Clonakilty 2 (Pearse St)
- Cobh IV
- Cork Harbour
- Derry City
- Bandon Bridge
- Skibbereen 2
- Strandhill Sunset
- Lord Edward Street
- Daniel O’Connell
- Mayo Mountains
- Derryreel Ridge
- Evening Bog
- The Cottage Field
- Green Bog
- Bog Waters
- Hill of Blood
- Crimson Bog
- Green Sheep
- Grattan Bridge from East
- Grattan Bridge from West (First refusal given)
- The Four Courts, from East (First refusal given)
- Landscape, Sheep 1
- Landscape, Sheep 2
- Landscape, Sheep 3
- Blue Field, Yellow Heather
- Barnesmore Gap
- Blue Mountains, Green Grass II
- Chapelizod Stile
- Lucan Weir
- Still Lives, Mustard
- #compav (a project of 103 paintings in one work)
- Sligo Sunset
- Clonakilty 1 (Rossa St) (SOLD)
- Cobh Boats (commission)
- Arran Quay (SOLD)
- Mayo Trees (SOLD)
- Birds Wires #17 (SOLD)
- Cashel (Sale Agreed)
- Sixmilebridge (SOLD)
- Glenbrook (SOLD)
- Dunguaire Castle (SOLD)
- Bandon III (SOLD)
- The Long Walk, Boats (SOLD)
As each painting becomes finished I’ll shove them down the end of the list and link them to the completed painting.
If you’re expecting a painting and you don’t see it on the list, I haven’t forgotten to do it I’ve just forgotten to put it on the list - which I’ve compiled in my head rather than in the studio where most of the paintings are. I’ll add the others when I get to the studio.
I work on a lot of paintings concurrently, for several reasons:
- Because my studio is very cold which slows the rate of drying and I’d rather start a new painting than wait hours for paint to dry.
- Because things get in the way of painting and the only way to regain the momentum necessary to finish those interrupted is to start new ones.
- And because sometimes paintings just get stuck and need to be left and while that’s happening what am I going to do - apart from stare at them for months - but paint new ones?
30cm x 25 cm (12ins x 10ins), Unstretched canvas
Shipping/Packing €11 globally
A painting of Ballyshannon in Donegal. This is a view I got from the bicycle as I crossed the River Erne. The weather was, em, changeable.
Ballyshannon is painted on unstretched canvas, 30cm x 20cm (12in x 10in). Unstretched canvas is where the canvas isn’t stapled to wooden stretchers but is flat and floppy like a sheet of paper. In other words it will require framing.
If you’’d like to buy this painting contact me to pay by personal cheque/check, account transfer, or that stuff called cash. If you wish to pay by credit card I can send you a paypal link where you can use your credit card.
With shipping included the price of €156 is what you pay in total to purchase this painting and have it shipped to your door anywhere in the world.
Work on current commissions including #paintingtour ones (and paintings for hosts), is continuing. Please note that due to current painting commitments any new commissions can not be completed for 6 months (which at the time of posting is mid September).