Artist Statement
Celtic Design
Ancient patterns for modern painting
Celtic design has become my visual language, through which I seek to express the interconnectedness of all things. Drawing from such revered sources as The Book of Kells and other ancient Irish and Scottish artifacts, I am honored be part of the evolution of this tradition.
I first became interested in Celtic design when I began studying Celtic music. I am a singer, and in my investigation of traditional Scottish and Irish songs, I was drawn to the artwork on CD inserts. I began looking for these designs in book form and started a collection of instructional materials on how to accurately draw knotwork, mazes, spirals and animorphic motifs. Learning how to reproduce these patterns became a treasured part of my day, not unlike a daily crossword puzzle might be for someone else.
Inspired by patterns inherent in nature
One day, as I was looking out the window at the trees in the yard, instead of seeing leaves, I saw pattern … not just any pattern, but Celtic design spiral pattern. Instead of bark, I saw mazes. I turned to look at the dog sleeping on the carpet and I saw Celtic spirals in the fur, and knotwork in the way his paws overlapped one another. It was a breakthrough, and this has been my artistic passion ever since.
In my daily life, I have developed an ability to find the grace in ordinary moments and mundane activities. Those individual moments in time are over in the blink of an eye, but somehow stretch out for all eternity in the present … those are the moments that amaze me. No matter how ordinary, each moment is unique.
Domestic Pets as Painting Subjects
Currently, my focus is on a series of pet portraits, through which I am exploring the connection between humans and pets. A split second of eye contact with an old Basset hound is a timeless moment that I have explored in a painting titled “Missing You.” In capturing this on canvas, I observe the patterns in the skin and fur, the natural order of the way the garden arranges itself harmoniously around, while remaining connected to the flowers offered pleadingly to the viewer. In layer upon layer of under-painting, I recognize colors that typically go unnoticed in a split second glance. I relate my wonder at the intelligence of nature, evident in the way shapes in the picture fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. Most importantly, I linger warmly in the sense of yearning, unconditional love, and acceptance in a mutual gaze.
Other series of mine include “Human Trees” and “Work in Progress,” an exploration of ordinary but unique moments during various types of work.
Emotional and Intuitive
These paintings represent my own thoughts and emotions so deeply, I think of them as self-portraits of my instinctive, intuitive Self; simple and fully present. I think of these moments not as frozen in time, but fondly bookmarked for repeated visits.
Dear Elizabeth (and Steve)
It was lovely to see you both at Tony’s two weeks ago, although I did little but say “hello/goodbye!” to Steve, and never said a word to you; I did very much enjoy The Sally Gardens, however. From time to time I look in, as I still hope, at some point, you’ll be able to do a portrait of our lovely dog, “Dan” (Daniel O’Connell). We had to put him down two and a half years ago, but he is still very much part of our lives. We had had to put down his only son, “Bob” (Robert Emmett) slightly less than 2 months earlier. Neither was a surprise: Bob had been fighting lymphoma for a few years; Dan was getting up there in years. By the Grace of God, in both instances…we knew that THAT was the day. At the time my father, God rest his soul!, was in the process of heading towards the grave; I was up and down to NY; and it hardly seemed like the time to get another dog…although that would assuredly mean at least one season without a companion afield. But it turned out otherwise: we ended up with a pup from the same breeder, “Tom” — Thomas Francis Meagher, of the Sword — who bids fair to give Dan a run for his money. He’s a very sweet, good dog — afield and at home.
I do wish that things were different and I had more opportunity to make the Press Room session; the few times I was able to make it there were thanks to Marty Stock; but now that he’s moved, there’s really no one from this end of the world on whose rat-track I am. So the chances to see the two of you, and make music with you, will probably be few. But I did want to tell you that I admire your art just as much as I did when I first saw it. I hope you will — and perhaps are?— painting again: but, if you never put brush to canvas again, God forbid!, you have been given a gift few are given. We all must come to grasp that we are not what we do: we are what we are. I am not a singer — I am a certain person who has been given the gift of singing; that could be taken away from me at any time. I would still be the same person. You are not a painter — but a particular, and wonderful, person who has been given the gift of painting, and singing — whether you can, or can’t do those things is hardly a trivial matter (as we both know). But it is so important to recognize that the issue of whether we can, or can’t, has absolutely nothing to do, essentially, with who we are.
I’ll look forward to the next time we’re all together. If and when you can do Dan’s portrait, let me know. In the meantime, know that you’re in my thoughts and prayers.
God bless you both,
Kevin