back in ballycastle

 

 

As I write this, it is my first night back in Ballycastle, County Mayo, where I came last year for the first time for a fellowship at Ballinglen Arts Foundation.  I have the same cottage as last year, and have spent the evening settling in, making some food, having a glass of wine by the peat fire (that I’ve remembered how to coax into life!)  A sweet, sad flute melody is playing in the background--there is no internet in the cottage, or phone, or TV. Only the radio, a program tonight of traditional Irish instrumental music.

In unpacking and making the space mine again for the next five weeks, I was amused to recognize a fossil rock on the bathroom windowsill as one I put there last year (in spite of the plea in the orientation packet not to leave fossils and rocks in the cottage, lots of the artists seem to do it!) In the cupboard, I discovered a mostly empty packet of popcorn that I bought last year at a fruit and veg stand—pleased then to find a snack I love at home but which is not part of typical Irish fare.  It seems a few other artists have enjoyed its contents in the interval since I left it there in November, 2013. These small, quirky signs of my former presence make me smile.

And so I am back in a place that is a kind of home for me.  Tomorrow I’ll set up my studio, take a walk on the beach if it isn’t pouring.  Or, in between the times when it will be pouring, which is to be expected.

For months I’ve thought about being back here, sometimes as a brief flash, other times with outright yearning.  I’ve been conjuring up memories and sensory impressions all year in my paintings and works on paper—of walking on the bog and along the coast, the rough textures of rock and lichen, the traces of ancient people on the landscape, the wild surf.  As well, I have revisited memories of life here, the peace of days focused on my work, the friendliness of the people in the village, the simplicity of having no outside demands, the walks home in the dark evening, stopping at the little grocery for dinner food, the occasional night at the pub with others from Ballinglen.

On this, my first night of this year’s stay, I’m feeling impatient to dive into these experiences again and eager for whatever will be new.  But I’m also remembering that this is a place that unfolds in subtle ways, and fully coming back will take a little time.  My deep feelings for this part of Mayo evolved over the whole six weeks I spent here in 2013--as one experience led to another, my work found direction,  insights re-enforced one another, and the people I met became better known to me.  Even the landscape and seascape, as dramatic as they are, did not fully impact me all at once—instead, each time I went out walking I took in more.

Tonight as I listen to the Irish flute, sip my wine and watch the fire, I'm thinking I want to take things slow and easy.  It’s challenging to shift out of the intense pace of life at home, where I work constantly and have many responsibilities of home and family. Here, I can simply sit and do nothing but experience the moment...rediscover the quiet inside in which my experiences here will fully resonate.