A TAle of Two Studios

I loved my old studio even when, as you can see below, the ceiling fell in destroying a couple of months work. I loved it’s light and the sense of infinite space that the high Victorian ceilings gave it. All good things come to an end though and that house is being sold so I’ve had to relocate.

The old studio, after the one hundred and fifty year old plaster and lath ceiling collapsed

I haven’t got the new studio set up properly yet and I haven’t been able to start work on some new pieces I’m very excited about. There’s nowhere yet for me to coat the panels in gesso and to be honest, like a lot of painters, I like my routines and I’m happiest when I can work in my normal way. I needed to paint something though. I had been gifted a canvas a while ago (I never paint on canvas) and I had also laid down some paper on board as I’ve long wanted to try that as a surface. Both of these were painted fast and loose and I’m not sure I would revisit either process (at least without tweaking) but I like both well enough to share the results on here.

Eating Pears, 61x76cm, oil on canvas, 2020
Kerr’s Pinks, 30x30cm, oil on paper laid down on board, 2020

Things glimpsed from a moving train

This was a breakthrough painting for me in a number of ways. I started working in Edinburgh in December 2016, getting on a train at just after 7.00a.m., in the dark, coming back again, at 6.00p.m., in the dark. I wasn’t seeing daylight at all and was barely managing to make any work. Then, as the day’s started to get lighter, I first noticed this little break in the solid wall of sandstone the train cut through. Flooded quarry workings near the shale bings. I started trying to pin down a few details on paper but it was there and gone again in no more than a couple of seconds. Finally I buckled, worked out where it was on google maps and took a day off work to go and find it. There was some off road driving involved and maybe the tiniest bit of trespassing but I got a good drawing made and was able to work up a painting on the back of it. I’m still happy with that little pink flash of foliage on the right which, for me, was the message to put the brush down. It sold in the next year’s RSA Open exhibition so hopefully it’s still making someone happy

Interview

Una-Minh Kavanagh, an Irish journalist and Irish language educator, recently caught up with me to ask a few questions about the direction my work has taken since I arrived in Scotland. She asked some very perceptive questions and I think the interview gives you a flavour of what I’m like as a person. You can read it at https://weareirish.ie/culture/greag-art-painting-visual-ireland/

A bit about the name

I realise my name can seem a bit of a challenge for anyone who doesn’t have a smattering of Irish but names are important to the Irish. Our language was taken from us over centuries, place names as well as personal names lost any attachment to their original meaning. In English my name is McAteer, but it can also be brought into English as McTeer, McTear, McIntyre, McIntire, all approximations of the original phrase mac an tsaoir, son of the free man. The Irish for free is saor but in this context it is a very specific form of freedom. In mediaeval Ireland with it’s complex systems of chiefs and minor kings the ordinary man in the field paid certain taxes, or owed specific obligations, to any leader further up the chain. Makers though, people who worked wood or stone, were free from these obligation and formed a class outside the conventional structure. As close as my father’s generation my family were quarry men, still working stone. So for me the name Mac a’ tSaoir still has a resonance and a sense of purpose that McAteer has failed to bring into English with it.

Silence of the birds

This summer has swung from swelter to monsoon and it has played havoc with the birds. Crows and pigeons railing against the squall, feathers pushed this way and that have alternated with days so bright the goldfinches have been flying blind, colliding with windows and garden walls. I’ve tried to rescue both but it hasn’t always been possible.

Dead Goldfinches, 30x30cm, oil on panel, 2020