First things first. In Ireland the first day of February besides being St Brigid's day is also the first day of Irish spring. OK, meteorologically speaking we are still in winter, but psychologically, because it's our tradition, we're happy to go with it. It's not the only thing we’re totally delusional about. But it's such a . . .
Search Results for: word for the year
Challenging invisibility by making an exhibition of yourself
It's all still sinking in. The hard work, the experience of exhibiting, the aftermath. Because I work in an alone space it shocked me on the night of the opening that people would actually arrive. When they came I was somehow still in the middle of the making. I had fallen out of bed that morning, showered, put on a blue dress and gone . . .
Dear Patti Smith
My friends! This is a repost from one year ago. It's always relevant! I am still a bit overwhelmed from the exhibition and the work coming out of it. Normal service will resume soon! "I’ve done records where it seemed like no one listened to them. You write a poetry book that maybe, you know, 50 . . .
Putting a fire under creativity
"Firstly to cook for the Baba Yaga, (the forest witch) one lays a fire- a woman must be willing to burn hot, burn with passion, burn with words, with ideas, with desire for whatever it is she truly loves. It is actually this passion that causes the cooking, and a woman's original ideas of substance are what is cooked. To cook for the . . .
About Catherine Drea
Catherine Drea is a visual artist, writer and blogger who lives and works in rural County Waterford. Catherine writes a column called As I See It for the Waterford News & Star and her first book Solace-life, loss and the healing power of nature, was published in the Autumn of 2022 by The O'Brien Press. It is available now in all good . . .
Savouring every moment
I started a one year sabbatical from my job of over 20 years in January this year. For the first couple of months I struggled with a bout of shingles and every other damn thing you could imagine. I even managed to fall flat on my face twice. For the first time since I was 10, I have two scabby knees and could enter any bruise comparison contest . . .
Reclaiming feminism
I was talking with an old friend, some one who has been around the block with me over the years. As with most women of a certain age, we got to the heart of the matter pretty quickly. I realised that for more than 20 years I have been inside the kind of job that steals your voice. Now I have loved this job, . . .
Using your voice
Last year the Editor of the News and Star invited me to write a guest column for this paper. She found me, because I blog away quietly every week on a site called Foxglove Lane (foxglovelane.com) As what she was asking seemed to be a one-off adventure, I wrote about some of my passions; creativity, imagination and happiness. Within a . . .
Bokeh
Early morning light at it's best with sprinklings of frosty dew drops. From my window I won't miss a thing that moves or changes. Small birds hang around on the willows, waiting for the breakfast I will serve them shortly. I've noticed the February sunrise is at the perfect angle. The dimmer switch is being turned up slowly. The sun . . .
On the threshold
I'm like some creature who has been released back into the wild after years of captivity. To protect myself from running around in circles and hitting my head off things, I have to take occasional deep breaths. When I do, the very air I inhale is a soothing sedative of calm. This morning I began. It started with moving a . . .