ag siúl le sinsear
walking with ancestors
Embedded Files
the ground is the deep time story. that exists across all time and all space. it is the source. other stories, of water, sea, air, earth and sky are etched over deep time. it's the epigenetics of the land as told by the ancestors human and more than human , past, present and stories waiting to be told.
Artist Residencies 2025
April: Watershed Studios, Galway, Ireland
May: NAT Art Residence, SM Pro Art Circle, Cantabria, Northern Spain
the bones of sadhbh
form ghost ships
the sacred seeds of Ireland
carried in their bellies
to bloom on distant shores
take these bones
and our dried flower arrangements
wrap them in bees wax
and send them back home
dw
This work I created during my time at Nat Art Residence, 'Seeds of Sadhbh', drew inspiration from the generosity of ancestors, human and more than human; past, present and ancestors yet to be. In the prehistoric caves of Cantabria, in limestone, ochre and ash, all our relations speak to us, and I am brought back to my roots. I honour the generosity of the deer to give life and sustenance to these early humans. I honour the generosity of the caves to hold the stories safe for generations to come. I honour the generosity of the rivers that carved the rock to make the caves that hold the stories and cycles of life. Now, my own ancestral earth and waterways of Ireland are given power and purpose as they share their stories to ancestors yet to be. And the cycle remains unbroken.
and the cycle remains unbroken
is é an t-uisce an bheatha / water is life
fola ar an líne / blood on the line
Grandma's father John, born on the boundary of Galway and Clare, got himself a job on the Great Southern and Western Railway. Children were born along the line to the Shanon, my grandmother in Clarecastle. In 1911 the Irish railway workers went on strike. The British Army was brought in to crush dissent. The strike was broken within weeks and 10% of the workers were laid off. "Now that we have the men defeated, we'll never have any more trouble".
an Boirinn / the Burren
On the Burren, an astounding natural beauty holds the scars of genocide - furrowed ridges emerge like dry bones, abandoned bothies and stone walls lead to nowhere. Yet, across the bog meadows, tiny spring flowers emerge, their vibrant colours a testament to Irish resilience.
Under the yoke of British occupation the Irish were systematically starved. Between 1845 and 1852, the British overlords watched more than a million Irish souls perish while they exported from Irish shores prime agricultural produce to fill the greedy mouths of the English. Hundreds of ships carried away Ireland's lifeblood - cattle, sheep, pigs, poultry, and the West Coast's rich ocean bounties of salmon, oysters, mussels and herring. Irish farmers starved as their own crops; peas, beans, onions and oats, wheat and barley and sweet meadow honey fattened British bellies.
ag siúl le sinsear / walking with ancestors
I meet you
fixed in time.
Stubborn scar.
If I unfold the earth
lay deep inside the ancient roots
like a cocoon.
Like death.
Until you learn to trust.
Will you give in.
Will you give up
your stubborn secrets
and rest awhile.
dw
Google Sites
Report abuse