[By RóisÃn Curé in Galway] You meet a lot of people on the internet, and we in the online sketching community are lucky enough to meet gazillions of like-minded people, a lot of whom share our general outlook on life. We're birds of a feather. Every now and then you get to meet these people in real life. It doesn't happen much for me, as I have three small-ish (but still very needy) children, and I live on the far western edge of Europe...on an island.
So when I had the chance to meet two sketchers last Friday, I leapt at the chance. Myself, Vicki Fenlon Holdwick and Shevaun Doherty arranged to meet in the National Museum of Ireland in Dublin, and spent a most pleasant afternoon getting to know each other and sketching. After wandering around the museum for a while we settled down in the Ancient Egypt room. The collection is small - nothing like something you'd find in London or (obviously) Cairo - but there were many objects of exquisite beauty there. Shevaun drew a tiny sarcophagus and I drew some canopic jars. I didn't know until about ten minutes ago that that's what they're called - and were it not for urban sketching, I would still be blissfully ignorant of the fact.
Here's Shevaun's little sarcophagus -
Here's my Canopic jars -
Vicki is a recent immigrant to Ireland and she spoke to her eight-year-old granddaughter back in the US on her phone, right there in the Ancient Egypt room. I don't care if it's a cliché - the wonders of technology.
There was a comment on Facebook about our use of water right there in the museum. I explained to the person who commented that in Ireland we know that people aren't going to get up to anything stupid or behave disrespectfully in a museum. It's partly that, and partly that our population is less than a tenth of that of Britain - and the museum-going public is probably even smaller. But really, we do genuinely trust people to behave, and it seems to work. Long may it last.
Here are me, Shevaun and Vicki in front of the Tara Brooch. In real life it's about six inches long.
I know it's very hard to tell but I messed around with the photo a bit. The Tara Brooch didn't come out in the photo so I gave it a little help.
We looked for the exhibit that gives you the origin of Irish surnames, and asked a security guard.
"Over there, past the bit where it says "no entry", and it's just around the corner," he said.
Everyone was to-ing and fro-ing through the "no entry" section, and no one seemed to mind, despite the large cardboard cut-out of a viking brandishing a big sword with the message written in front of him.
Eventually a burly security guard came to throw us out, as the museum was closing for the day. It was Friday and the guard wanted to knock off. We maybe could have been a bit quicker.
"What if we stay here all night?" said Shevaun.
"Then I'd have to introduce you to the dogs," said the big guard. He said they were Belgian-somethings. I know he was messing, because they just don't have dogs roaming around the National Museum at night (for one thing they'd make a hames of all the bones in the display cases) but he was deadpan so I couldn't be sure.
We had one of those days where you just don't want to say goodbye. Vicki had to catch a bus back to Wexford in early evening but I was footloose and fancy-free, so instead of saying goodbye, Shevaun and I went for a bite to eat. Walking up Grafton Street in the dark, the air fresh and cold, I remembered how much I love Dublin, my old stomping ground...
Next day I hopped on a Citylink bus back to Galway. The drivers are invariably jolly, laid-back types. This one welcomed everyone on board and told them the password to the wifi. He clearly wasn't 100% sure of it and glossed over it, twice. His very much younger and slicker colleague (the one who stays behind at the depot) slagged him for not knowing it.
"Lookit, would you get off, would ye?!" said the driver in mock-exasperation.
"Are you sure ye know the way west?!" said the young fella.
I was going to have a snooze on the bus but then I noticed the man in the seat opposite me was in a pretty deep sleep, his profile bathed in light. So I thought I'd give it a go.
Someday someone is going to draw me drooling in my sleep, minding my own business on a bus, and it will serve me right. I would never draw someone looking undignified, though (and when girls ask me to drop a few pounds off them, or lose the wrinkles, I'm always happy to oblige).
This trip to Dublin was not the first solo trip I've made to Dublin for a whimsical reason, but it wouldn't be too far off - time has a way of running away from you, especially when you have daily responsibilities. But the kids are getting older and I plan to catch the Citylink bus to Dublin more often.
There's a whole city to draw, and I know a couple of really cool sketchers who'll come and draw it with me...
So we didn't, and Shevaun and
So when I had the chance to meet two sketchers last Friday, I leapt at the chance. Myself, Vicki Fenlon Holdwick and Shevaun Doherty arranged to meet in the National Museum of Ireland in Dublin, and spent a most pleasant afternoon getting to know each other and sketching. After wandering around the museum for a while we settled down in the Ancient Egypt room. The collection is small - nothing like something you'd find in London or (obviously) Cairo - but there were many objects of exquisite beauty there. Shevaun drew a tiny sarcophagus and I drew some canopic jars. I didn't know until about ten minutes ago that that's what they're called - and were it not for urban sketching, I would still be blissfully ignorant of the fact.
Here's Shevaun's little sarcophagus -
Here's my Canopic jars -
Vicki is a recent immigrant to Ireland and she spoke to her eight-year-old granddaughter back in the US on her phone, right there in the Ancient Egypt room. I don't care if it's a cliché - the wonders of technology.
There was a comment on Facebook about our use of water right there in the museum. I explained to the person who commented that in Ireland we know that people aren't going to get up to anything stupid or behave disrespectfully in a museum. It's partly that, and partly that our population is less than a tenth of that of Britain - and the museum-going public is probably even smaller. But really, we do genuinely trust people to behave, and it seems to work. Long may it last.
Here are me, Shevaun and Vicki in front of the Tara Brooch. In real life it's about six inches long.
I know it's very hard to tell but I messed around with the photo a bit. The Tara Brooch didn't come out in the photo so I gave it a little help.
We looked for the exhibit that gives you the origin of Irish surnames, and asked a security guard.
"Over there, past the bit where it says "no entry", and it's just around the corner," he said.
Everyone was to-ing and fro-ing through the "no entry" section, and no one seemed to mind, despite the large cardboard cut-out of a viking brandishing a big sword with the message written in front of him.
Eventually a burly security guard came to throw us out, as the museum was closing for the day. It was Friday and the guard wanted to knock off. We maybe could have been a bit quicker.
"What if we stay here all night?" said Shevaun.
"Then I'd have to introduce you to the dogs," said the big guard. He said they were Belgian-somethings. I know he was messing, because they just don't have dogs roaming around the National Museum at night (for one thing they'd make a hames of all the bones in the display cases) but he was deadpan so I couldn't be sure.
We had one of those days where you just don't want to say goodbye. Vicki had to catch a bus back to Wexford in early evening but I was footloose and fancy-free, so instead of saying goodbye, Shevaun and I went for a bite to eat. Walking up Grafton Street in the dark, the air fresh and cold, I remembered how much I love Dublin, my old stomping ground...
Next day I hopped on a Citylink bus back to Galway. The drivers are invariably jolly, laid-back types. This one welcomed everyone on board and told them the password to the wifi. He clearly wasn't 100% sure of it and glossed over it, twice. His very much younger and slicker colleague (the one who stays behind at the depot) slagged him for not knowing it.
"Lookit, would you get off, would ye?!" said the driver in mock-exasperation.
"Are you sure ye know the way west?!" said the young fella.
I was going to have a snooze on the bus but then I noticed the man in the seat opposite me was in a pretty deep sleep, his profile bathed in light. So I thought I'd give it a go.
Someday someone is going to draw me drooling in my sleep, minding my own business on a bus, and it will serve me right. I would never draw someone looking undignified, though (and when girls ask me to drop a few pounds off them, or lose the wrinkles, I'm always happy to oblige).
This trip to Dublin was not the first solo trip I've made to Dublin for a whimsical reason, but it wouldn't be too far off - time has a way of running away from you, especially when you have daily responsibilities. But the kids are getting older and I plan to catch the Citylink bus to Dublin more often.
There's a whole city to draw, and I know a couple of really cool sketchers who'll come and draw it with me...
So we didn't, and Shevaun and
