Archive Blog Post from 2009 

When moving to Dublin from Fermanagh for the first time, I spent all my time riding on the top seat of Dublin buses, finding my way through the city, familiarising myself with this strange but glorious place,  that before this only existed in stories of rebels, literary heroes and Irish myth. My first experiences of Dublin were seen in the summer where the rain fell on the city for 61 days without stop. And each of those 61 days were spent atop a doubledeckered blue and yellow bus, and from this elevated view point the city’s urban landscape skewed and warped under the cloud bursting cascade of rainfall, colours refracted and light reflected through drops that never ceased to cry down the pane of glass, like a weeping cinema screen. The roads became rivers and the headlights and traffic lights and shop fronts were reflected down into the earth for miles, expanding the cityscape far and wide. People were huddled at bus stops in rush hour in bright summer clothes, ignoring the elements, hoping for the sunshine that never came, waiting under trees, books, newspapers, umbrellas and giant plastic cloaks.

This series of paintings are based on finding the beauty in what would seem to most people the most depressing of summers or circumstances, for me it was one of the most beautiful visual summers. A time to soak in the rain, splash in the visual puddles of colour and light and depth and hide and duck under great umbrellas; the battle shield of the urban warrior. During an economic rainfall right now, it would be nice if we all have that little topdeck viewpoint from where to reflect and watch the world in all its wet beauty and appreciate the depth and beauty of the Dublin dwellers.