I jumped off this bridge onto what looked like soft shingle on the dry river bed to gain access to the this vantage point. The shingle was rock hard and I limped around for a couple of days after this.

Sord(Well) Colm Cille, from which the town got its name, is just behind where I was sitting doing this.

I remember sitting on the ground with my back to a tree doing this. A young boy came up behind me and asked; "Hey mister, are you an artist?" I was amazed to be addressed as a "mister" at that age, but I assured him I was an artist.

The church is on the left here and the well down the hill to the right.

This was a lovely summer's day and I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I had a look at the spot on Google Maps Street Scenes lately and it's surprising how the place has changed because of all the trees and vegetation.

There was a nice old gent who used to open up the old clock tower and people could get up to the roof and survey the town.

Yet another view of the church. Churchyards are quiet places for artists who don't want to be annoyed.

Or is this the shingle I jumped down onto. (See sketch No.2 above). I can't remember which side of the bridge this is.

Not far from Spittal Hill, sketch No.6 above. The beginning of the estuary which strtches down to the sea at Malahide.

This has a lot more self assurance than the preceeding sketches. Around this time my Dad had brought me to show Jimmy Mezzetti my work and he gave me great encouragement and tips about drawing and painting.

No date on this one but is more than likely 1973. The prize for one of these, a set of oil paints, resulted in my love for oil painting which still endures.

The prize for winning one of the competitions (see previous two photos) in the Aughrim St. Parish was a set of oil paints. This was my first attempt at an oil painting and I was hooked. Whenever I smell turps to this day I remember that first effort, and a few in between.

Baggot St. Bridge looking west. The canals of Dublin around this area became one of my favourite haunts for painting and sketching. I think the building shown is the bookshop where Paddy Kavanagh had his own chair.

A cold January day. I did this sitting on my bike and was totally engrossed. It wasn't til I stopped that I realised how cold my hands were.

Done at the top of Harold's Cross Park, in the company of fellow artists Brendan Byrne and Paul Harrison. We worked together in Parker Advertising, Grafton Street.

Dun Laoghaire/ Sandycove another easily accessible haunt for sketching. This study of clouds was done on A2 paper.

This is one of the first pen drawings in which I used a brush to soften areas and create shadows.

This bridge is a favourite of many artists.

I gave a better drawing of this subject to friends as a wedding present.

I remember being quite proud of the looseness of this and the next two done one after the other at the same spot.

Photo of me starting the
"Yellow House" painting
(see below)

A big part of our family life were the weekend or summer evening drives to places in the countryside around Dublin. Hazelhatch was one spot we kept returning to. I was thinking of "The Yellow House" painting this. This was the summer of '73 when I was working in Parker Advertising as a commercial Artist.

This is where the family was "dragged" up. Although it was a tiny garden, to us tiny people it was big.

Done from my bedroom and "studio". I hated interruptions, which were frequent, as I shared the room with two brothers.

This was done almost opposite Garda Headquarters looking south. Later I often described the "Phoeno" as our front garden when explaining to people how close it was to our terraced house which didn't have one.

I think this was done in Blanchardstown though I can't remember. I liked the "sketchiness" of it as I did it.

This one and the next were done on a camping holiday. I scarpered down the cliff to the left and waded into water to "save" a little girl who was being carried out by the tide on an inflatable. As it happened there were small boats out further which would have helped her anyway but I can still hear her cries for help.

This must have been my Van Gogh "period".

I was quite proud of this at the time. It's a long way from the Swords pencil sketches, above.