Lucy is an artist, whose illustrations have been published, her
paintings bought, and her sculptures exhibited. She lives in a pink
house in the depths of Tipperary with a pack of dogs, some horses
and a pig called Abraham. Lucy is a great cook and a mediocre
gardener; she’s also quite cross about a lot of things: from
glyphosate and off-season hedge cutting to genocide and the rise in
global fascism. She tries to translate all the rage into her practice,
so she doesn’t get an ulcer – we’ll let you know how that goes.
My sculptural installations are composed from disparate elements – often everyday objects, materials, scrap, junk, and ephemeral odds and ends. These scavenged materials are supplemented with objects specifically acquired for their poetic sensibility. Through these works, I aim to unsettle, disrupt, and complicate dominant political narratives. This work examines the tension of living on a grassy knoll in the Atlantic while mediating concern for global conflict, genocide, and the re-emergence of fascist police states. The incandescent rage I feel when I think of current global issues has been condensed within this work; the loss of lives, the lack of empathy, and the suffering of our planet weigh heavily on me and I’m glad – to not be furious would mean to be dead inside.