Tochmarc Étaíne In A Nutshell

Samhain in Killarney, 2024

Ladies, gentlemen and glorious non-binary people, I give you Áed Dub mac Suibhni and St. Findchán! It's a series of illustrations I made for my husband's conference presentation on how love wins in Early Ireland. Shared with his permission of course.

Mannin Castle, Co. Galway

Revisiting Manannán mac Lir in his youth. I suppose if Orbsen mac Allot, aka Manannán mac Lir, was born in our times and in our dimension, he would have collected nerd treasures such as Funko Pops, or vintage comics, or whatnot, like all of us mortals. But when you're a Tuatha Dé Danann prince and a pirate captain (don't take my word on it, check out Sanas Cormaic!), you have to make do with jewelry and elven heads. Sigh.

What I’m drawing today

The bog king coming together nicely.

Altars of the dying sun

Little lives (gone)

Co. Galway

I’m reblogging this on my main blog because it broke my heart. Exactly what happened to me when I was 5, only I drew a blue flower (and was expelled from pre-school art class for being ‘unable to learn to draw’).

This did not deter me from drawing though. But it did deter my parents from allowing me to attend any extracurricular art classes that I begged for for years to come.

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy