Make way for Ireland
Preparing for a 9-day artist residency at Cill Rialaig
In just over a week I will travel to a remote stretch of the southwest coast of Ireland to write a good portion of my new novel, and work on some pattern and dye studies for future textile work.
Since it opened in 1991, Cill Rialaig has hosted more than 5,000 artists from around the world, who are invited to attend based on the merit of their projects (the residency itself is offered free of cost). Painters, writers, photographers, potters, composers, choreographers, and other artists travel to Ballinskellings to stay in simple live-work cottages, restored from pre-Famine ruins. No television, telephones, or internet. The retreat invites artists to “temporarily renunciate ordinary domestic and work demands,” and focus entirely on creative pursuits, with only the landscape of the wild Atlantic for company.
Over the coming days, I’ll be packing everything I need for eight days of uninterrupted work. My plan is to spend a couple of hours each morning on textile studies, then dedicate my afternoons and evenings to writing, with some ocean dips in between. For the textile work, I’m bringing a compact kit for on-site eco-printing experiments: prepared linen swatches, copper wire, twine, and a few simple tools. For the book, I’ll bring my research materials, source books, notes, and my little laptop.
My initial intention for the residency was to study patterns found in the landscape: the surface of old stone cottages, the shapes of rocks, the lines and repetitions that might later become hand-stitching on quilts. Since then, I’ve become interested in lifting stones, which are exactly what they sound like: heavy stones, often hundreds of pounds, traditionally lifted as a test of strength. These stones are scattered across Europe, and I’ll pass by one or two while in Ireland.
For me, lifting stones sit at a rich intersection of history, culture, endurance, and the body. I don’t yet know what I’ll make of them, only that they feel connected to questions I keep returning to in both my writing and textile work: what we carry, what we survive, what we inherit, and what proves our strength over time. You can expect to see more sizzling coverage of stones coming soon.
I’m approaching the residency as a working threshold: part writing retreat, part material study. The landscape always informs my work, so it stands to reason that a new landscape will produce new insights. I’m excited to see what develops.
Much of my recent textile work has been made through slow contact with place: plant matter, minerals, heat, water, cloth. The resulting pieces are less depictions of landscape than records of encounter. The stains and shadows are residue. Like memory, they may continue to shift over time.
I love this medium because it is an ongoing lesson in letting go. The process asks me to set conditions, relinquish control, and make room for something unanticipated.
Before I leave, I’ll be making a small group of finished works from my recent series Remain available through a first studio release. I’ll share those here and on my social channels shortly.