The clouds parted, the sun appeared
with a skirt of blue skies, my heart was cheered.
Time to wrap up, at just three degrees.
I quick stepped down the hill bending my knees.
My few little errands were soon in the bag,
Time to circle round and home by the park,
These guys came running chattering their news,
Being careful to keep off my shoes.
While walking along the North Quays of the River Liffey on a bright sunny summer morning, I was stopped in my tracks by the colours in the peeling paint of the panels on the disused shop front.
I love old layers of peeling paint. The colours and texture are a work of art in themselves.
It was only when I had my fill of texture that I looked up for a shop name.
It was clearer on the side of the building, round the corner on Arran Street East.
through the past few days:
I hope you enjoyed walking along with me. You can click to enlarge any of the photos
Con Houlihan ~ Bronze
Sculptor ~ Unknown to me.
Con Houlihan was one of Ireland’s premier sportswriters. He was often described as ‘writer, journalist, philosopher, raconteur, Gaelic scholar and gentleman, he entertained his readers with some fantastic writing.
This sculpture was erected in the vestibule of The Bank Bar & Restaurant on College Green, in Dublin.
In a brief eulogy at the end of the funeral service, Ray Hennessy, a friend of the journalist, described Con Houlihan (1925 – 2012) as:
A sculptor of language” who was “sensitive, compassionate, humourous, sometimes extremely funny, courteous, with perfect manners.”
He recalled a comment he made when unable to locate a book of poetry by Gerald Manley Hopkins after a cleaning lady had done her work, “you know, if that woman worked in Trinity College she’d throw out the Book of Kells”.
On another occasion, when Kerry unexpectedly beat Dublin in football he was asked how his friend Harriet, a dedicated Dublin supporter, was taking it, “Con replied ‘House private. No flowers’.”
There was no signature or sculptor’s name on the work and I have been unsuccessful in my search for further information.
I finally finished my Saturday series of photographing the alphabet. What next?
Change is all around me:
• The seasons are changing. Autumn colours and rustling leaves are all around
• Temperatures dropping with a definite ‘Brrr!’ to the air.
• Soon it will be time to turn back the clocks, leaving us with fewer hours of daylight.
Maybe it is a hidden message… To make changes…….
Shuffle the furniture.
Finish the started projects.
Find a new challenge.
Join a nunnery.
Give up blogging.
Close the front door and become a nomad.
Any other suggestions?
Old Oak ~ Bronze
Sculptor ~ Michael McWilliams
I found this piece last July, as I wandered through the Westbury Mall adjacent to the Westbury Hotel, just off Grafton Street in Dublin.
Michael McWilliams was born and educated in Dublin. He has been working as a professional artist for 30 years. He works from his studio on the foothills of the Dublin Mountains.
While his main interest is landscape painting, using a palette of tones and hues inspired by nature, he also works with bronze focusing mainly on the human form.
His works are in various corporate and private collections in Ireland and abroad.
The Onion Seller ~ Bronze
Sculptor ~ Séamus Murphy (1907-1975)
This is a monument to the women dealers in the Coal Quay, Cork City Open Market.
It was erected on February 27th 1986 and unveiled on February 28th 1986 by the Lord Mayor, Alderman Dan Wallace TD as a gift to the City of Cork to commemorate Cork 800 by Sunbeam Wolsey PLC.
Séamus Murphy was born at Greenhill, Burnfort, Mallow, Co Cork.
Y ~ Yellow
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze……
~ Daffodils by William Wordsworth
What I need is the dandelion in the spring.
The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction.
The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses.
That it can be good again.
~ Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins.