Cill Rialaig (a pre-famine village in Ballinskelligs, Ireland)
The waves beat against the black rocks day and night. The sea is a monster and roars. It is powerful and pours out onto the cliffs and pries at the slate roof of my cottage. I venture out in any weather, for if I waited for sun, I may never go out. Hail stings my face unexpectedly falling from the sky, rain comes more often than sunshine but I feel fully alive. I think one has to be exposed, to feel this way. The faded yellows and blues of derelict homes, the bleating of white woolen sheep, the savage sea, the blustering wind and the stacked stone rows all inspired my artwork during my two week residency near the sea.