We didn’t have a dresser in our kitchen. We only had shelves with hooks for the cups. The gas cooker was in a room on its own, called the scullery.
Kitchen units? – we’d never heard of them. But we had a fireplace, with a fire that never went out. Maybe that’s why I started my series of paintings of old fireplaces. They hold so many memories in their dusty hearths.
And in the upcoming 2 person show “Silent Stories” at the Belltable in Limerick, I’ll be showing some new pieces (see one above). I think that they’ll work well alongside Miriam McConnon’s paintings of domestic objects.
Because, whether we sit at a fireplace and poke at the flames or whether we peel the potatoes or dry the dishes or just drink tea from a chipped teacup, we get used to the ordinary things around us, they become part of our lives. They reveal something of the story of our lives.
Yes, the photo above is one I came across in the attic this morning. It’s the tinteán we had in my mother’s house. The photo was taken after she died and the fire was no longer lit. An embroidered fireguard covers the void. A couple of holy statues and a lot of postcards on the mantelpiece. That unfortunate Child o’ Prague – it had fallen and been repaired so many times…
The painting below is one of Miriam’s. Coloured Threads. They remind me of my mother, sitting in front of the fire, sewing.
But cmere – our 2 person show “Silent Stories” opens at the Belltable on Saturday, the 11th of March. More of the story at –