Monday 17th January.
Today is the day I have been anticipating for over a year, as it’s the day I leave Ireland to become artist in residence on the island of Upernavik on the North West coast of Greenland. I knew when I first spotted the invitation that it was so far out of my comfort zone that I must apply. It struck something deep inside me and softly called me to do everything in my power to get invited.
I became a full time working artist graduating in 2000 after going back to collage as a (very) mature student. It was totally the right thing for me to do and by 2005 I had built a studio and was working out of it as a professional landscape painter. I have always been very conscious of the land and the way different artists render it and it has always been so important to me that I do that in an unsentimental manner. I love the Irish landscape but for some time have had been feeling that I needed to break away from it. I was more than a little in danger of allowing myself to go for the conventional acceptable image than I have ever been and as I have always felt this is the kiss of death to an artist so needed to find a different and less comfortable pasture.
Greenland is full of contradictions. Survival in a climate so cold it seems impossible to breathe, Inuit tradition married to 2011 technology. Its people both vulnerable yet incredibly tough. The place holds a huge fascination for me not the least because of its winter landscape.
I heard that Upernavik had accepted me a year ago and after the elation of the exotic, which lasted a week or two the reality of the situation kicked in. I then decided that it was just foolhardy for an old woman to take off alone for the arctic to live in midwinter with a bunch of total strangers many of who might not speak English. I rang my sister for confirmation of this fact. Her response echoed that of my dearest friends. Go for it, It’s the chance of a lifetime. No no I wanted to cry. You are supposed to say, better stay here where its safe and other such platitudes, not urge me forward. I still had to tell my beautiful sons though and they were bound to be so afraid on my behalf they wouldn’t want me to go. Both Tim and Dan were thrilled by the idea as was Helen, Tim’s wife. They valiantly cheered me on all the way and so it became impossible for me to refuse. I looked up how to get there it was a long journey. I thought about what would happen if the planes couldn’t fly because of blizzards. I wondered how on earth I was going to raise to substantial amount of money needed. Then I thought of the dear people we had lost in the past two years. How they would have relished this opportunity and here was I not really feeling brave enough to carry it through. That actually settled it and although I still had periods when I was seriously scared I buckled down to work out the logistics and finances of how to do this amazing trip.
Enlisting the aid of my very long-suffering friend Karen I started applying for grant aid. It was a very long process. I was applying at the worst time possible because Ireland was in recession and budgets for arts and culture were “being cut to ribbons” to quote one TD who was very pessimistic about my chances of securing any financial help at all. It was looking bleak. Tim rang me one evening saying he and Helen wanted to give me the money. I almost cried it was such a generous thing to do but instead of biting off their fingers I stupidly said of course I couldn’t take it. Thankfully I was persuaded by dear friend Steven and accepted the offer gratefully. I did put my grant in and heard nothing for a very long time. Then three days before I was to leave I was given word that I had been partially funded by the Irish Arts Council. This was great news and it gave me both a little emergency money and some acceptances as serious artist.
