When I was thirteen I traveled to South Kerry with my parents and had my first introduction to the coast, mountains, and people that make up this rich and starkly beautiful corner of the world. For several years after that we would, for a few weeks each summer, rent the captains house and the boathouse of the old Coast Guard Station in Kells; the site of probably the only victory in the Fenian rising of. Then, in the early 1970's I helped build the house that I have been returning to whenever possible. Since that time I have photographed in many parts of Ireland. It is from these photographs and on site in Kerry that I paint.

Although I am primarily fascinated by landscape, in Ireland I find that the connection between the land and the people is so intimate that I rarely see landscape devoid of human impact. Houses and walls seem to spring from the land and fences delineate the mountains as surely as they do the small fields. Ireland, however, is changing. The accompaniment to prosperity and economic opportunity seems to be a diminished connection to the land. As a result I find myself increasingly draw to "old" Ireland. The reason is not that it is cute, idyllic, or the trite subject of tourist art. Rather, I think that there is a larger message that appeals to me - humanity as a part, only a part, of something bigger.

Light is also a central part of the Irish experience. I like to sit in my house looking out over Dingle Bay with a turf fire glowing and sense the mist drop down over Knocknadobar, and envelope the house while across the bay bright patches sweep over the undulating terrain of Minard and Annuscul. You can look at an Irish landscape eternally and the mosaic of dynamic light keeps it always variable. I try in my paintings to capture the qualities of light that is Ireland, but I confess to painting more bright days than are the reality.

I know intimately most of the sites I paint. With few exceptions, where I superimpose images from my mind, most of these places are real places. If you want to know where they are, I would be happy to tell you, but I also hope that each painting transcends the particular and becomes the general. I've had people remark that a certain painting must be the view outside a town they visited, only to be told that, no, actually it wasn't painted there at all. I hope that these paintings can be where you want them to be and if they evoke a connection to a particular place different than where I painted them, I'll take it as a success. To me it means that I must have gotten something right about the Irish experience that works for you. That is all that I hope for.

When not painting I teach high school science and pottery.

Tad Lawrence
March 2001