It’s very humbling to be invited back to participate in Art in the Park for the third time. Swan Park is a mirror image of where I grew up at place called Drumahoe house on the banks of the River Faughan so I feel very much at home displaying my work here in this beautiful park,
This year through my work I am trying to cover so many different things.
Now, what I know about art, you could write on the back of a postage stamp, so bare with me, inside my head is full of fun thoughts and weird and wonderful creative ideas, so I hope you enjoy this work.
Fairytale
The work, For No Good Reason, is made up of a series of fairytale characters. The Mute swan sits on top of the cage out of reach of the snow leopard. Both have fallen for the snowflake, who is in the safety of the cage, both are trying to lure it out. The snowflake might have been born at night, but it wasn’t born last night, and knows its boundaries after hard learned lessons.
Snowflake
Now, I’m actually poking fun at myself here, referring to myself as a snowflake, you may have heard of Kevin the carrot, so here Kevin the snowflake. Now, this is all part of my fun personality, the little kid in me laughing at myself. I have called a few people in the past snowflakes, but Paddy Chuck Doherty, who inspired my horse plough sculpture ‘Walk On’; he was no snowflake. We are all born little snowflakes and as we get older we start to build our own cage around ourselves to protect our feelings.
Mute swan
It was a no brainer to create a swan to sit on top of a cage using a bin lid for its base mount which came from a school in Derry (some context here; bin lids were used during the troubles to warn of the army/police raids and this one was used on the border protest over BREXIT as a means of warning; by banging them on the streets.) Yet the mute swan is quietest of all the swans species, I can’t but wonder why that is.
St Brigid, Imbolc
At this time of year, young swans will be starting to eye up new life partners. If we are lucky we might get to see fresh fallen beautiful snowflakes in Donegal again and may see paw prints of the snow cat as it pussyfoots around the cage. I can hear the jackdaw crows making a racket as they explore my barns looking for the best nest sites. In the cold water of the Crana River, which runs through Swan Park, lays thousands of fish eggs waiting for the water temperature to rise, snowdrops in full flower with daffodils not far behind. Mother nature is my God, and I am at my best walking the land looking, listening and everyday learning, reaping the benefits and inspired to keep life going
Digging deep into the past
This year has been a year of reflection for me at the age of 62. Sometimes we have to go back in time so we can see how far forward we have come.
I always find myself going back to age 4, a June baby, my first week at school as a funny playful kid, and how on the third day of primary school For No Good Reason my young pretty blonde haired school teacher in front of all the class slapped me several times in both hands and shouted don’t ever speak in class again. A shocking moment in the life of someone so young.
To this day that still makes my blood boil as to why would anyone want to inflict such pain, fear, trauma to a harmless defenseless kid who was so excited to meet people his age like himself who weren’t throwing stones, spitting and calling him ‘Fenian bastard’.
I went through most of my school life afraid to talk, because I was so scared. I feel I wrapped my first iron bar around my cage that day. More beatings with bigger meter rulers, and canes meant more iron bars for my cage. What I can only describe as an evil, cruel beating took place by several dedicated staff members, sometimes as other teachers looked on, as if they were getting a lesson on how to punish us, but for what reason?
I had to attend speech therapy at a local hospital. I remember it was another pretty lady with dark hair. I wished she was my teacher because she was so kind and encouraged me to talk.
They beat kids left right and centre, the screams and cries of other kids was so terrifying, hardly the condition for learning anything but anger, fear, violence. At the age 13, I stood up and refused any more beating and for that I had to stand outside class.
I left school at 16 feeling completely stupid, useless, poorly educated by a cruel school system with devilish intent. It took me years to realise I wasn’t stupid, I just wasn’t academic. I was fortunate that I was stubborn, creative, ambitious, and I knew not to say too much. The paramilitary groups preyed on all these young vulnerable broken people and used them as fodder. The security forces criminalized as many as they could and then forced them to become informers. Sadly so many succumbed to drug abuse, alcohol abuse, and tragically suicide.
We hunted the priests, I think it’s time we hunted the cruel teachers, but also very important to stress there were some very loving, caring teachers who deserve a place in heaven.
Big Cage
I built barriers around myself like a big cage growing up,
I survived but many didn’t
It was safer not to talk,
This past year I have talked and share little more than i would normal do but the truth also hurts,
Count yourself special if you got inside my cage,
Fifteen people are in full time employment as a result of my determination not to be beaten; and that was me leaving school badly treated. Now, just think, if a whole lot of us kids were treated with love, care, encouragement how things might have turned out?
I am dedicating this work to all the victims of abuse by cruel people.
