Close to the Edge/Close to the End

Dear Friends, It is the end of the school year. We finish June 5th. I am a bit inundated with end of the year paperwork. I have been wanting to post art but that involves photographing and editing. I paint and photograph at home and crop the photos at school. (I have better editing software) but it takes some time. I think I've been ruining more canvasses than making good art lately.

The end is near! With that end in mind, I sought reference to the end. This place, Dun Aengus, Inishmore, in the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland is about the closest I've come to the "end of the earth". I believe the people who built the fort there must've thought the same. There is my beloved second daughter, not looking the least bit Irish. These photos were taken in 2007.

This is the view from the cliff looking straight down. Daughter D figured it would take nine seconds to plunge to your death if you jump, seven seconds if you were pushed.

There are no guard rails here. Reminds me of the Houses of the Holy album cover. How many of you remember that circa 1974-75ish?

Daughter D and her Dad looking over the edge. Did I forget to mention there is no guard rail? I am way back using the zoom lens. I am a klutz with a fear of heights.

The school year ends Friday. Instead of posting art I am posting grades. I have a few ruined canvases in the works. (They start out great and then I kill them). Hopefully I will get to paint a bit more after the school year ends.

Uilleann Pipes, the Mighty Quinn and the Legendary Leo Reilly

Thanks to my good blogging friends, Kat and Dive, I began to reminisce about some of the sights and sounds of Ireland. I thought I photographed an Uilleann Piper and here he is, playing his pipes on the streets of Galway. He had a fiddler friend and they made lovely music. The daughters contributed a few Euros and they played a few tunes. Here's a closer view. It fascinates me to watch these pipers piping with their "armpits"! I guess it's really the elbows they're working, but it looks extremely difficult.

But, alas, here is the mighty "Quinn", not an eskimo, but a wonderful old salt we found playing accordian along the trail coming down from Dun Aengus in Inishmore. Quinn had a lot of stories to tell. He was 71 years old. He spent years traveling the world over to play his accordian with traditional Irish bands.

So I hope everyone had a wonderful St. Patrick's "week". I took a full week to celebrate my Irish heritage. I started with Kat's wonderful Colcannon recipe. I ended it with a couple of pints of Guinness at a little pub in Gettysburg. You should all know that we haven't had alcohol (in the Williams' house) at the request of the husband. (He was trying to cut down and needed my moral support). He said he didn't mind if I had a few drinks outside of the house.

Well, this was the week to take advantage of that offer! According to my old, dearly departed, Philadelphia friend, Leo D. Reilly, we Irish have what he called "Ethnic responsibility". (in other words, we're expected to drink, so we shouldn't disappoint). Leo was a juvenile diabetic, who lost his leg and his sight, and had an uncanny ability to navigate his way around the back roads of Roxborough and Manayunk from the backseat of a car. In the end the diabetes didn't kill him, but a brain aneurism did. He died at the tender age of 39. So here's to Leo, Quinn, my Irish family and to the many Irish "characters" I've come to know. To all of my friends of all ethnicities, this was just another excuse to celebrate life. I hope you enjoyed your week in your own way. If nothing else, celebrate the fact that spring has sprung!

Dublin "Chimbleys"

I found on my school computer a painting inspired by a photo taken from our hotel room in Dublin last summer (2007). I do not normally gravitate toward cityscapes as I am challenged by perspective and drawing straight lines. (At least one of my chimbleys are out of kilter!) I was however inspired by the beautiful soft evening light. This was about 10:00 p.m. on a June evening. My dad bought this painting from the Lancaster gallery where I used to exhibit. (I would have given it to him!) I had giclee prints made for Shazza and Monkeytooth.