I am still undecided whether I discovered the turf or if the turf discovered me. In any case, an affinity was there for as long as I am aware.
Growing up on the outskirts of South County Dublin, meant that the mountains were only a short-distance away. Most of my youth was spent up there, climbing and walking for hours, whatever the weather.
Not only did I get to know the area well, but I felt very much at home out there on those mountains. The interaction between the light, the wind, the rain, the sunshine was invigorating.
One particular day I came across a large, monumental turf-bank. The dark shape loomed up out of the fog—stopping me in my tracks. Gazing through the fog, time seemed to fall back through millennia, revealing an uninterrupted, ceaseless process of growth, decay, and accumulation. I began to contemplate the nature of the deep tranquility up here on these mountains.
Years later, even though my Initial intentions were rather vague, by the time the underlying significance of this very dark, almost crystalline turf became apparent— the material had already occupied a central role in my work.
Since neither turf nor peat have ever been traditional painting mediums, there were no reference books to consult—no accumulated knowledge to build upon. So, the only alternative was to commence a journey of exploration. Taking up the challenge, my curiosity, provided the necessary impetus.
In the course of a prolonged process of trial and error, the material gradually began to open up, disclosing many of its distinctive and particular anomalies. The inquiry lead to a space where perceptions of time, place, and indeed, mortality became significantly interrelated.
After rain | Mountain turf, pigments on canvas | 30 x 37 cm | 2000
Reflecting the wild, windswept mountain bog from which it was extracted, the contentious nature of this particular turf appealed to me from the beginning.
Initial applications, whether on paper or canvas, always tended to reveal the wild amorphous origins of the material, adding tinges of anarchy, ambiguity and mystery, all in equal proportions.
The mountain turf turned out to be inspiring, idiosyncratic, evocative, and I was in for one surprise after another. This fiery, expressive medium acted upon me as a catalyst, setting multitudes of ideas and impressions into motion.
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