This is about the seventh straight day of rain and cold temps here. I can't complain though I left sunny Florida of my own volition. And I have to say I'm liking the cold it's just the rain I could do without.
On tues I went in to Dublin to chek out the Thomas Nozkowski show at the Rubicon Gallery on St. Stephan's Green. It was a nice show. I've wanted to see his work in person for some time (I missed the show in Memphis a while ago)and this one was a great example of his typical oil on paper,easel size work. Nozkowski is out of the mainstream and no academic at all and I think that's why younger painters admire him. His abstract work is derived from life experiences and surroundings, his images are varried and quirky and there seems to be no consistent approach to a piece.
Tomorrow I'm going in to Dublin to see shows at the Hillsboro Gallery (showing a couple of Gillian Ayres and a John Hoyland in a holiday show)and I also want to visit the Kerlin Gallery, they show a couple of people I really like such as Richard Gorman. Sioban wants to visit Hillsboro too and then we'll get some dinner.
Last night I was invited to the semi annual Christmas party give by the owner of Lilliput Press (where Sioban works as an editor).
I almost didn't go because the weather was so bad and when I did venture out I ignored Sioban's directions and went my own way. This probably added about a mile of rain soaked walking to the trip but the city did look beautiful in the rain. Dublin is lit up for Christmas and the river Liffey looks incredible. I'm glad I made it to the party though. I met a lot of interesting people---one American living here with his Irish wife and French/Irish couple living in France. The Frenchman and I talked most of the night---solving all of the worlds political problems. I also met a very nice older lady who is a publisher in London. We talked about the recent Turner prize winner and she was also very keen on Hockney so we talked about him for a while. It's really great to be able to talk art again!
I also met the press owner's son -a guy about 30 who looked like Colin Farrell-who was pulling pints and called me a pussy for leaving early and not drinking enough. I told him...(insert bad fake Irish accent here)"I see yur aftur gettin yur arse kicked talkin like dat." We parted on good terms though and I had one more Budvar for the road.
I would have stayed much later but I am a pussy and had a long rainy walk back to Tara street to catch the last train back to Dun Laoghaire.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment