I have only twice in my life been an artist's model.
The first time was when I was about four years old and was painted by the porter at Howth railway station. We lived just across the road from the station in The Gem and my father worked for the railway company.
Had I modelled instead for Gordon Brewster, a then well known Irish artist and chief cartoonist and art editor at Irish Independent Newspapers, I might have achieved childhood fame as a young blond artist's model. I might have become as famous as those weeuns currently in the public eye at junior mini beauty contests or Irish dancing competitions.
However it was not to be, and I immediately faded from the arty scene until some forty years later in Paris in 1988 where I was the subject of a caricature in the Place du Tertre by Fris. Now that was more like the heavy stuff, but, alas and again, nobody noticed.
Now, in my anecdotage, I reflect on these two missed opportunities to have taken the Irish, nay world, arty scene by storm. Too late now.
Never a dab hand with brush or pen myself, I am consoled by my access to modern technology where I am becoming adept at the odd montage, some not too far removed from my own last appearance on the arty stage.
And in case you are still confused, that's me above at sixty-eight posing for the caricature of me at forty-four. Amazing what you can do digitally these days.
The first time was when I was about four years old and was painted by the porter at Howth railway station. We lived just across the road from the station in The Gem and my father worked for the railway company.
Had I modelled instead for Gordon Brewster, a then well known Irish artist and chief cartoonist and art editor at Irish Independent Newspapers, I might have achieved childhood fame as a young blond artist's model. I might have become as famous as those weeuns currently in the public eye at junior mini beauty contests or Irish dancing competitions.
However it was not to be, and I immediately faded from the arty scene until some forty years later in Paris in 1988 where I was the subject of a caricature in the Place du Tertre by Fris. Now that was more like the heavy stuff, but, alas and again, nobody noticed.
Now, in my anecdotage, I reflect on these two missed opportunities to have taken the Irish, nay world, arty scene by storm. Too late now.
Never a dab hand with brush or pen myself, I am consoled by my access to modern technology where I am becoming adept at the odd montage, some not too far removed from my own last appearance on the arty stage.
And in case you are still confused, that's me above at sixty-eight posing for the caricature of me at forty-four. Amazing what you can do digitally these days.
Well, that was thirty years ago and it was all quiet on the arty farty front since, until that is, I went along to the Alliance Française's Open Day in town on 15/9/2018 and found Eugene Moore doing portraits in the corner of La Cocotte.
So I signed up, and the above is the result.
So I signed up, and the above is the result.