About The Artist

I am not not a blow in. I hail from the O’ Connell Clan, harried to hell or to Connaught in the 1650’s, and our family anchored in North Clare.  The Burren has been my limestone playground all my life—I’ve leaped grikes between ancient pavements, scaled boulders older than surnames, plunged off piers, and battled with jellyfish. My environment triggers memories of childhood, my children’s upbringing, and the traditions passed down through generations. The materials I use in my practice are familiar, my footprints now leave a trail of sawdust prints like my father once did as he made his way from his workshop to the kitchen table, and my mother's voice echoes in my head at the door: ‘dust off, stamp your feet!’ I wear his fresh-cut wood scent, and dust settles on my skin like a second layer. I rub my wood-roughened palms together, and I can feel my Grandad’s hands, as he sat me on his lap. I close my eyes, I can smell his tobacco-and-whiskey breath as he embarked on a tale full of wit. The tradition of storytelling is in my bones. Now, I tell my stories through sculpture and performance—stories of place, identity, and the ever-turning cycle of family. I signed a lifetime contract by seed to become a mother. I am a daughter and a sister, and now I practice being an artist, reclaiming my identity beyond the laundry basket. I am not a refined person, but I might be a playful chancer, and the chances I take in my work surprise me. I share my stories so that you might recognise a piece of your own story, knotted in the grain. 

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