further to my suggestion about three generations on a spanish vacation -

airfare.  roughly $1100 apiece in the fall of next year.  end of august, september.  at this point it’s not letting me look any later.

staying somewhere.  5-stars run 150 euros (average only) a night

pensions run 20-30 euros a night per person

the youth hostel is $18 for a 6-bed dorm.

what about food?  dinner at a good cheap restaurant where the locals eat is 15-25 euros a person.

and getting into the prado?  6 euros.

we can do it.

for about $2000 each.

waddya say?

have a look – http://www.youtube.com/user/jeannesz?

i run around trying to lock everything, but it’s an old falling-down building and he comes in thru a window i thought i’d gotten, with 2 kids, and announces that he’d arranged with management that i was today’s meal.  he showed me a homemade gun that shot bbs.  i took it and fired it at him, and he promised to take my eye out with it later.  i was just starting to tell them how bad a meal i’d make when i woke up.

i woke up to a nice dawn, with wind from the north; all rain and beauty.  i did more rearranging the studio, this time to accommodate the ironing board as i start with the fabric work.  i cut linen and silk for a wall-hanging i’m going to do for my friend k.  i’m planning on dyeing the linen red and black, and putting the scene outside – a wall and bushes with fuscia, the side of the mountain, and a bit of sky and a bit of ocean – on silk.

a cloudburst over the bay.

i get quite drunk on my single pint o’guinness.  i save it either for my lunch break, sitting outside on one or other large rock looking at the waves and the rocks below, or my celebratory pre-dinner end-of-day liquid resuscitation.  but up on this mountain it’s like ambrosia, and packs a wallop.  thank god for guinness.

often there are places in my head – limavady, beenkeragh.  i don’t know why.  they just speak their names while i’m standing there painting.

it’s very cold out, the wind’s from the wnw tonight.  i’ll have a fire for sure, may even close the windows.  so warm for late september.  i’m so lucky, even tho i complain about no rain.

i dyed the linen as a scrunch dye – my fingers are stained red and black.  i set up a makeshift set of fabric stretchers – collapsible tent-poles shaped into a rectangle – and stretched the silk with fabric clips attached with rubber bands.  all this stuff i brought with me.  now i’m trying to figure out the drawing.

a rainbow landing right there in waterville.

friday september 23.  dream.  first i was about to be married to the king.  there was a baby i was to mind, i guess it was the replacement queen i was to raise.  the king was suspicious of me, there was a test – he sat me down all accusatory and made me drink a glass of something.  but i’d heard him preparing to test me and figured it was some sort of antabuse substance, so i ate a bite of bread and took the liquid around it, and then pretended to puke it all up and everyone was happy and they gave the baby to me.

the second part of the dream was with my kid and her baby daddy.  they were in last night’s dream.  we were in the part of town that had nothing but big box stores, and one or the other of them went in while the other spent their time looking for them outside.  the center was brand new, with still plain dirt areas, and at one point there was a carved-out place in the rock and i went back into the defile with the grandkid, clambering about.  it was all very ordinary feeling.

it was cold last night, i shut all the windows.  the wind is ene this morning, the sea’s calm.  the low tide left long trails of sea foam.

being alone is good.  i like being alone.  i put in close to twelve hours of work yesterday, and that’s only one measure of my happiness.  i was in my own space all day, with loads of beautiful land and sky and sea to watch changing.

this was a photo i took amidst sighs and moans.  just that beautiful.

even the mountains move when i’m not watching.  the far mountains that i’ve painted and photographed and sat outside looking at for about half of my time up here, they were in a totally different place in the light yesterday.  much closer, it’s not just the atmosphere affecting my view, tho.  things’re alive here in ways the rest of the world has forgotten how to see.  but i’m the same person in two places and it doesn’t move for me at home.  i think it’s the fairies.  any place that supports fairies is by definition magical.  such a full (fall?) day.

the linen’s in there dyeing away.

washed out the linen, and now i’m boiling it because colors came out too dark.

the village staring my sister and her dog, in oil.

more work on my sister’s village painting, lights but not purple.  started painting rocks into the wall.

waves crashing on the rocks, in encaustic.

mixed up more encaustic after messing with first wool/waves only a little bit, washed more wool in preparation for the second one.

a second, much smaller waves picture, this one with embedded wool.

sorted paper bits for the wall.

torn bits of abstractly painted paper, rock wall colors.

haven’t done anything else, not even lunch.  it’s 4ish and i’m fatigued.  talked to my sister for half an hour, jim for 15 minutes, gail for 10.  even ian wrote an email that my sister read to me.  the weather was beautiful all day, but cold.   i can see everything, every little fold in the far mountains.

the studio end of the cottage, with the day’s work in progress.

this is a short one on just the ruins you can see from the artist village.

gee it’s small here, the map i got from bing; you’d better click on it.  the village is to the right.  up at the next farm, go up the hill for a really cool hill fort partially made of stone, with a round place on top, and a door and passage you could get to if you had the courage to move the fecking great spider guarding the door.

in the field next to or next to that, further out toward the head, there’s a tiny little round place made of stone, and it’s just like the walls that crisscross the area except it’s round, so it’s probably a beehive hut, what remains there are.

the close round place is the tiny hut, up the hill a ways is the stone fort

along the road, and actually you can see it on the ridge from the village, as a flat place and a bump on the hill below the road (good luck picking the road out even when you know where it is).  that’s an old early xian place in a round enclosure, with this hut and that building and several crosses with lines etched into them.

the ruins are in  no way spectacular, and you’d miss them if you didn’t know about them.  it’s the beauty of the place that inspires.  you’d want to be an early xian anchorite if you could stick yourself on the side of bolus head and sing about the glory of god’s creation all day and all night.

there’s more, of course.  stuff up on bolus head.  standing stones up on the hill above cill rialaig village itself, stuff in the saddle of croom, and over in finian’s bay, all over the damned place.  it’s wonderful.

warm, foggy on the mountain, k’s going to killarney today and fetch home a bit of lamb for supper.  my cold seems to be gone – worked thru it yesterday with energy.  but i’m still very sluggish.

tuesday september 21.  k gone, getting to be a slight gale from ssw, no rain in it but get to watch clouds form on the island opposite.  yesterday very warm, with the mist on the head not quite blocking the sun until late in the morning.  walked down to the rocks and took lots of 30-second film clips, sat and watched the waves, then came back and decided on my first encaustic of waves breaking on the rocks.

tried to show the next door resident the beginnings of the process, but only did the drawing and the white highlights before dinner.  it’s what i’m drawn to do, and the tourist paintings will only get in the way now, so i’d best finish them and put them away.

just barely ten days left and i’m still doing tourist paintings.  all day working, a gale brewing.  now after dinner it pours on my skylight.  dinner a big stew of leftovers with the resident next door’s vegetables, which she left when she went.  seems to be a tradition, giving your leftover food to the other residents or leaving it for the caretakers.  old chicken stock, quinoa, raw salad with cabbage etc with the exresident’s mayonnaise.  so good to be alone, and a little creepy.  remembered a few days ago having a dream where zombies are trying to break into the house and i’m stoically trying to argue them out of it.

sat mixing oil paint earlier, thinking about chalk and pastels and how the deep colors don’t come out until they’re fixed, and why the pastellists insist on not fixing their colors.  silly, like most fundamentalism.  now to the encaustic, because i can’t paint with fluorescent lighting, and it’s getting dark.  not early to bed this evening.  i’m excited about the wax.  variations for k, then goldberg, this mortal coil for awhile, then passages.  finally palestrina.

brought a big spider in after filming the waves down at the bottom of the field.  i was sitting on the pot when i felt something on my neck and brushed off a huge ball onto the floor, maybe dead.  it never moved, so i swept it up and put it outside, and ten minutes later it was gone.  apologized to it and searched hastily for bite marks.  got spooked by it, like the ex resident was when she brought a small grey tick to show us this morning.  ticks.  midges.  even a mosquito in the house.  what’s the world coming to – mosquitos in ireland.

equinox, september 22.  the blow blew last night but it was sunny and calm this morning.   clouded over and started misting while i was washing clothes tho.

dream.  i was dating this young guy and then i met the father and we immediately started making plans to be together.  i’d just been hired as a stripper one night a week, at my age, to be working with everyone i knew (stage name uniboob).  later, i was looking for my oldest younger brother and finally found him thru a tunnel, down a slide into an indoor pool.  i stopped at the bottom of the slide rather than going into the water, and he wanted me to go thru more hoops before he’d talk to me, so i just up and left, using the stairs and stepping over the hole on my way out.  he followed but i’d had enough.

today no music so far, and a nap.  am so tired of the oil painting, so i’ve started with the slash and dash – more color, this time it was the yellow ochre that started it.  began a small oil of the rocks, to put encaustic and fuscia on when done.  quick paintings as backgrounds for flowers.

sat here looking at the stone wall of the studio, and suddenly decided to do the wall in watercolor, then tear it up and stick it onto a board and cover with wax.  so i got the first part done.  sheet of watercolor with all sorts of loose brushstrokes of watery color thrown and dragged and dripped across it, then torn into a million pieces.  then to painstakingly glue each strip down with gel medium, and then wait for the medium to set, constantly pressing it down again.  i could do maybe ten at a time, and it took half an hour at least to get them to set.

torn up watercolor paper stuck to a board.  only the 2nd stage.

for dinner i’m having the having the rest of the rather old ex-resident vegetables with bacon, onion and garlic, mushroom, spinach, brussels sprouts.

wind is nw again, from iceland, so i’m having my first fire.  rearranged the settle for the couch so i can watch it.  gretchaninov on, before meyer and ma, before coulais’ stabat mater.  gorgeous sunset, took more clips.

the wee sheepie, hopefully small enough that you can’t see how horribly it’s progressing.

my cast iron stove, by far the tourist pic i’m most fond of

my sister’s village scene, coming along slowly and painfully.

k is here, going to stay awhile, here on the air  mattress rather than spending 30 euro a night for a b&b.

the black valley

saturday september 18.  exhausted after a day trip thru the ring of kerry.  went up the inny valley, around the reeks and then thru the gap of dunloe.  i want to bring jim thru when liam comes to get me.  it’s out of the way, but not by much on the map.  i’m very tired this morning, like every morning so far.  kay’s been cooking and i’m eating big dinners and late lunches, and wine.  maybe that’s it, or i’m still adjusting into my second week.

a perfect day in the village

found the perfect clouds for susie’s village on thursday, am just blocking them inand almost ready to lay in proper paint (with chalk), right now blocking in is with orange oil and a tiny drop of linseed.  it all goes to the back of the canvas, so not enough priming.  k brought me two 9-ox jars of medium, so i’ll correcct it on the next panting and will maybe coat this one out with wax when i’m done.

wind back from the nw today, yesterday clear as a bell all day with stars.  moon’s half full now and a day or two beyond.  full moon coming next week.

the tourists just fucking knock and try the door and expect to be let in to see the artists like exhibition animals.  i’m not an installation.  left me bothered for hours.  the guy was indignant.

sunday september 19.  dream.  something something at a party when some guy dragged large carapaced spiders out of his ss, which then grew and unfolded and reached out to grab this fat woman around the neck, and she fell backward.  i called 911 to report it – giant spiders – but there was an RN with a cap and cape and id badge, who was nonchalant about it, saying she’d only be sick for a couple of days but they’d take her to hospital to check her out.

spent the afternoon painting, continuing to progress everything.  can’t wait to get these tourist pictures out of the way.  i’ve been sickish the last two days, had a bad night gut-wise, hence the dream.  sore throat, mild headache, nauseous.

raining 500 yards away

wind from the nw, very changeable weather.  got a chill, but stll haven’t had a fire.  k. went to derrynane and thence to glengarriff on the beara penninsula, the next one down.  very different landscape, she says, more foresty and lush.  the resident next door is leaving tuesday morning, back to london.  we’re having her to dinner tomorrow.  k leaves tuesday as well, and it’ll be a few days after that until i get to the encaustic and faric work.

it’s raining this morning, and i found out how untight the bedroom window closed last night when the shuttest position made the lowl louder.  good thing i like moaning wind.  it drives some nuts.  hard to take over a winter, i’d say.  all the little irishisms have popped back into my vocabulary.  the residents don’t socialze much.

i’ve met three of six others and we tend to end conversations quickly and go hide back in our studios.

my brushstrokes have irish accents.  they speak to me as i’m painting.

the wind’s from the south today, so’s the rain.  the waves tend from there too.  but now it’s stopped, backing west, and the sun’s out.  every fucking five minutes.

the wind falls like sheets of rain from the sky.  it moves at the same speed as the waves, shoving them forward.  glass string quartets, rachels, schnittke concertos.

wednesday september 15.  wind from the north again, but dry so far.  the fridge makes a gurgling that re-sounds as a hum, so i’ve got music whether anything’s on the ipod or not.  that and the whine of the laptop are all to accompany the wind.  preisner for last night’s session and first thing this morning.  jenkins was in my head last night, and now brahms.  oh yeah gorecki yesterday afternoon.  it seems important to record what i listen to.

this morning put on the first color in suzie’s village, splashed on deeper greens and blues on the wee sheepie.  i’ve started mixing chalk into the oil paint to thicken it.

of to cahirciveen in the afternoon with two of the residents, joan the yank from london, and gerard from dublin.  got some goodies, smoked trout, pate, salsa.  joan wanted someone to talk wit gerard so she could concentrate on the driving.  i mailed a letter and got tooth floss.

back, snacking, started the first encaustic, with all the local flowers.  was too hasty drying them and pressing them but they’ll go under the wax regardless.

thursday september 15.  dreamed of being with the ex husband in the big city, and we were trying to use a tv to find a hotel room.  one room cost over a thousand a night but i didn’t want the $60 room.  this was after the ex was shot in the left shoulder while he was doing some mission for the cops and they just removed their devices and turned him loose, and i had to dig into my stash of pills to get him settled.  then we looked for a room.  but the people we were with were horrible.  one turned from talking to us and went to rape an old lady in a chair.  looked like they did this all day so i fled, flying off.  at first very badly, but then i put my left arm in front of me and used the chakra in my left hand to pull me along and soon i was going well.  the bad guys were in a car beneath me and stopped when they saw me.  i had stopped when i saw them, hesitant, but when they shouted that i had their window which i guess they thought was magical, i kept on going away from where they were in the night.

cooler this morning, wind from the north and backing east.  don’t know what the east wind brings.  trying to wear two pairs of socks instead of the clumpy house boots i brought – my knees have started to hurt.  croissant for breakfast.

thursday 9/2.  getting my checked bags thru security went off without a hitch, despite my rigorous preparations (inventory, numbered ziplocks).  it was a couple of pounds over the 50 lbs i was allowed, but after taking my watercolor paper back out it was under, and i somehow wedged the pad of paper into my carryon.  when i got thru customs in dubin i discovered that all my preparations with my checked luggage were for naught – they never opened the bag to check all those liquids and powders and sharp objects i was carrying.  so, fine.

[snip. lots of running around dublin seeing people and getting things i need]

`a small little boreen (boithrin) in the back of beyond

friday, 9/10.  the trip to kerry was frightening, not only from sitting on the left and driving on the left – so very close to the edge, but also from my driver driving so much faster than i’m used to.  it rained most of the way, heavy rain.  but it let up while i got last minute things in cahirciveen and while i unpacked the car at the cottage.

first thing i did the next morning after my driver left was to rearrange everything in the cottage.  the kitchen, the studio and living room, the bedroom, even the bathroom got changed around.  i went walking up the hill, and took loads of pictures of the village, the sea and the headlands, the clouds.  i’m looking forward to starting something of walls or the hills tomorrow.  for today i started a watercolor of the cottage next door, actually the laundry house.

the laundry house, right up the hill from my cottage

then took a walk to see where the earthworks are that i spotted on satellite picture – it’s possibly a garden because there are plant pots in racks near the front gate.  and then, unexpectedly, i had a long talk with my next door neighbor who arrived the day before.  we sat out until the rain came, watching the clouds proceed from the brow of bolus head.  i noticed while setting everything up today that the silence was ringing, so i kept putting music on, first gavin bryars, then karl jenkins, then laurie anderson.  earlier, when my driver was still here, we settled on the goldberg variations, after trying dire straits, the beatles and deprez.  i made my first loaf of bread and had some, and my first pint of guinness, sitting on the rock in front of the cottage watching the waves come by.

my cottage.  note the cloud creeping down the hill toward us.  see huge big suv that brought all my stuff. thanks, driver

saturday, 9/11.  first played A3 and then the symphony of psalms.  with wind from the north and sun amidst the clouds.

monday 9/13.  will it get to that?  just had the strong feeling, at the palette trying to unwrap my paint container after 2 days, that i was actually left handed, and while bending to the table, that i needed to turn my head around to the back because my back was my front.  physical feelings.

first chance to paint since i started a painting of the village for my sister.  the pictures out the back door, and the wee sheepie are only in the first stages.

i’ve had visitors.  the great tragedy of the last few days is the curry sauce i spilled all over myself and the rented car on the way home from cable o’leary’s.  the rented car was fine, tho how i got curry sauce on the back window i’ll never know.  the curry sauce got on my sister’s pants, and only knowing that turmeric is fugitive keeps me from panic.  i’ve washed them twice and soon you won’t see it, please god.

this morning when d and e and f left, they took me and the trash into town, where i deposited it most discretely (explaining to them that even tho nobody was there, doesn’t mean we were unobserved.  i learned that one with leeks at anamoe, which i’ll never live down, this being ireland and people having prodigious memories, unlike myself.)  i went down to the siopa to `pay my electricity bill, 25 euros a week, and it was blustery but dry.  at times walking back i had to lean into the wind, and clomp down the road.  supposedly 3 miles, it took me an hour to walk back, so closer to four.

dun geagan has a pub and newsagents, a public laundry and a cute dinky cotage.  ballinskelligs has a pub, and rumored petrol station and newsagents (meaning mini grocery) which i didn’t go down that road.  by the time i got a lift back from the bottom of the hill, from michael the cleaning guy who fixed a second tragedy of the weekend (my stove) i found myself both hungry and sleepy, so i had a piece of toast and some tea and went to bed for two hours.  at which point the sun was out on the water and i felt much better, so went and finished laying in the shapes on susie’s painting of the village.

my sister’s painting of cill rialaig village, in the early stages.  oil on linen

about the only thing i didn’t get was the loft bedroom, which i found was different in every cottage.  mine had little space except for a bed, and i turned it sideways in order to stop knocking my head against the ceiling getting into bed.  placed lengthwise along the gable end of the cottage,  i could walk down the center peak of the ceiling and come into bed sideways.  made more sense to me.  i used the hangers that were there to festoon my clothes from nails pounded into the beams, and draped my jeans and sweatshirt over the ballustrade every night.  and in the morning kicked back the duvet and let the bed air out until it was dark and time to read my chapter and go to sleep.

this is how far they had to go to conform to disability regulations.  you can not only swing a cat, but can run races with your wheelchair in the bathroom if you like.  tho personally i’d run a wheelchair race down the road to boolakeel if i were doing it.  the shower is an instant shower:  pull the cord and the box heats up the water and pumps it out with nice pressure.

the furniture in the cottage consisted of this large, painted-up work table, a basic folding easel, a comfy couch, a table and some chairs, a dresser with drawers for storing stuff, a wooden settle that i could store a lot of packing material in, a closet with a hot press which is also good for storage, but you have to share it with a spare bed.  i brought the computer, the two other easels, floor rugs, and a bunch of really godo kitchen equipment, simply because i could.  if you’re limited to checked luggage, then you’ll bloody well make do, and it’s all there so there’ll be nothing to complain about.

my studio arrangement changed several times, depending on the use i made of the computer, the self portrait that you see in the foreground that needed to be painted in dim light so the mirror wouldn’t shatter, the fabric work that took up one whole wall.

this is what i did with the stairs.  there’s about four inches in the narrow spaces, and you don’t want to put your toes there and hope to hold on, so you might as well fill it up with t-shirts and jeans and socks. your novel and your flashlight.

this is why i did something with the stairs.  they’re the kind of stairs you might find in a fishing boat, and they’re traditional somehow.  the older cottages have just plain ladders up to the loft, but the newer ones have this traditional setup, which would be dandy if the pitch weren’t so steep.  once you get used to them, you’re grand.  but the first night you’re there you need to be really careful, and you need to always have a light on so you can see your next step.  and it’s really really important not to go and get drunk and then have to get up in the middle of the night to pee.  if you can’t make the stairs, there is sleeping available on the ground floor, and nice accommodation it is, too.

this is what it looked like from outside and a bit uphill so you can see into the studio part.  the end wall is something like 3′ thick, you can see the white line of plaster at the corner of the skylight.  there’s a front door and a back door, back from when they milked the cows inside and didn’t want them stampeding thru the kitchen.  that little window is plenty big, and is in the kitchen.  there’s a window in the loft, one in the bathroom, and one in the living room.  the studio, of course, is nothing but window, and the view is of the mountain behind the village.

this is a very functional kitchen, the stove of which will mystify any american.  plenty of shelf space, loads of dishes.  the fridge is dorm sized, and there’s a tiny freezer, but you can fit quite a lot of food into it.  you’ll want to keep your vegetables in a bowl on the counter the way they do it in europe, and your pints of guinness under the sink until they’re ready to be chilled.  the kitchen is fully equipped with all the basics and some exotic extras, like plastic bag ice cube makers, quite ingenious.

this is the fireplace.  to the left you can see the storage heater, one of two, that actually do all the heating.  i had mine both cranked up all the way and they kept the place toasty all day and night.  had to throw the covers off and open the loft window sometimes.  but when the wind is up or you’ve got a chill or are just feeling romantic, you can burn a lot of things in the stove.  starting it and / or keeping it lit are challenges you’ll have to overcome for yourself, but anyone up there will be glad to show you how to do it, and won’t laugh at you because everybody has the same trouble.  use firestarters.  you can get pressed briquettes in cahirciveen, and wood the same, but the housekeepers will bring you a whole basketfull of hand-cut turf.  it’s so nice to go out for a little walk and come back to see your chimney putting out tendrils of smoke.

the bed linens and towels and dish cloths and floor rugs are all kept in the little laundry room above, if you run out or need clean ones.  you can do your laundry in the sink and dry it on the line like i did, or go spend a few bob to wash and dry it in the machines.

so that’s what the cottage is like.  the wind whistles thru the cottage when it’s howling outside, and the rain patters on the skylight, the studio lights shoot up the hill and light the rocks every night, and the sheep munch their ways by the road every morning at dawn.

with my new computer, after a few kinks to accommodate the new batch of gremlins (the keyboard gremlin, the mouse gremlin, the external hard drive storage gremlin, the cable gremlins, the power supply gremlins…), i now have access to all my thousands of photos and 30-second clips i took of my six weeks in ireland and holland.

i’m putting a great deal of the 30-second clips up on you-tube, with one batch of exceptions.  30-seconds because i didn’t want to stand there with my arm and body held against the wind for any longer than that at a time, and didn’t want to deal with many gigs of useless movie files.

i took many many pictures of:
the clouds in ballinskelligs bay
the rain dropping out of the clouds in ballinskelligs bay
the sea rolling in or washing out of ballinskelligs bay
the waves crashing off the rocks at the foot of the nearby cliffs, or farther cliffs
the far landscape of ballinskelligs bay, and beyond to the beara peninsula of county cork
the sky, and the things the sun does to the clouds and mountains and ocean
the mountain behind us
the wee sheepie
the rain on my studio skylight
the changing weather

mostly the clips are of the changing weather.  some of them were taken every five minutes during particularly spectacular periods.

i’ve got many many panoramas of the bay from ballinskelligs thru waterville and off past scarriff and deenish islands and then past dursey head and out to sea, around to bolus head and back to the village.  there’s usually clouds involved, many times rain; it’s always beautiful, mostly wndy and when not, full of midges.

there are also 1300 still photos of all sorts of things, from a trip thru the gap of dunloe to the scary spider blocking the megalithic fort up the hill.

i have to sort them out.

but i’ve started uploading the weather, waves and sheep film clips, and you can find them here.  there’ll be lots more, all equally tedious, as you can tell from the titles (waves 14.avi).

they’re all from my residency period at cill rialaig, which was september of 2010, an extraordinary autumn following a picture perfect summer like they hadn’t had in years, after the iceland earthquake the spring before, and a series of non-summers in the years before that.