Irish Art

Flail, by Debbie Godsell

It’s not often an art exhibition has me running to my word processor to get a post out, but this one did it for me! On the surface, this is a quirky, amusing, thought-provoking, installation about the annual Harvest Festival, as practised in the autumn in Church of Ireland communities all over Ireland. Except it’s so much more than that. It’s titled Flail, and it’s on right now at Uillinn.

Debbie Godsell has taken the idea of the harvest festival and the communities that celebrate it, and turned it into a personal exploration of her own experience with it, as a child growing up in the C of I, and as a photographer recording the custom of decorating churches. In Ireland, this is a custom unique to the Protestant church – the minority religion. As such, there’s a strangeness to it when viewed by someone who grew up Catholic. Not strange in the sense of peculiar, but in the sense of unknown, slightly other-worldly, why-have-I-never-known-about-this?

But yes, it is quirky and amusing. Just take a look at these heads – they are the first thing you notice when you come in, titled ‘Ancestors’. Made from all kinds of found materials, some represent real people (hello, Great-Aunt Molly!) although most are simply heads – a bit like you might find on a scarecrow out in the fields around harvest time.

But after the first encounter you realise that this also of course, is the thought-provoking part of this exhibition Now you notice that they are on sticks, mirroring perhaps the heads on pikes that seemed to spell the end on many rebellions against English rule down through the centuries. In her notes, Godsell states:

Here, the heads take on an unsettling childlike quality, drawing from elements of folk drama and ritual. Rudimentary in form, they are a fusion of figures from Irish history and the artist’s own imagined lineage. Blurring the line between historical facts and personal mythology, the work interrogates themes of memory, identity and inherited trauma, challenging how history is constructed and remembered.

What does it mean, in Ireland, to be part of a minority religion? What has it meant in the past, and now? What if that religion was perceived to track closely with class, and land ownership, and unionist sympathies? 

We pride ourselves, in Ireland, now, on being a pluralistic and non-sectarian society. But if that is true at all, it is only recently so. The Ireland I grew up in – in the 50s and 60s – was deeply sectarian. Protestants and Catholics rarely mixed and we were forbidden, on pain of sin, to enter each other’s churches. We were educated separately, played some different sports (Anyone for lacrosse? How about men’s hockey?), sounded different, went to separate Brownie troupes, studied different curricula at school . . .

This exhibition explores the harvest-related parts of that separateness, but the opening, in which Debbie Godsell was interviewed by art critic Cristín Leach, also featured a discussion on folklore and a hymn by Cristín!

Cristín has said that Flail is ‘complicated territory’ for her and the hymn, Harvesting History, sprang almost spontaneously from engaging with the first Flail exhibition. It has been beautifully set to music by Susan Nares, and the West Cork Choral Singers presented it at the opening. Here’s a snippet.

I was particularly fascinated by the folklore discussion. As Roaringwater Journal readers know, we have used the Duchas/Schools Folklore Collection extensively over the years. One particularly important piece of research for me was to look at what it had to say about the Reverend Fisher – Saint and/or Souper of Toormore. What I found was a little shocking and it opened my eyes to an aspect of this wonderful resource that I had never previously considered – the decidedly sectarian nature of the collections. While some Protestant National Schools did participate in the School’s Collection of 1937/38, Protestants are very under-represented as informants. See this excellent article from History Ireland for more on this*.

Cristín and Debbie talked about the prevailing view of Protestants as seen in the overwhelmingly Catholic responses in the Collection – and it wasn’t a pretty picture. As I discovered with Fisher, and as Amanda has discovered with Holy Wells Folklore, the Protestants are basically blamed for anything misfortunate or discreditable – some examples here, and here and here. 

Go see this exhibition if you can. It’s fascinating, but more than that, it’s important. We are still trying to come to grips with our history, in Ireland. Art like this helps immeasurably.

* A ‘Protestant folk’? Author(s): Deirdre Nuttall and Críostóir MacCarthaigh Source: History Ireland , Vol. 25, No. 5 (September–October 2017), pp. 48-51 Published by: Wordwell Ltd. Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.2307/90014607

Sit Stand Smoke – and Remember Kathleen

This week I experienced, in Virtual Reality, what is was to belong to a Flying Column during the Irish War of Independence. With the men, I crawled through a West Cork field, gun at the ready, alert for any sign of the British army or the Black and Tans.

Or, at least, that’s what it felt like, and I must admit to a slight pounding of the heart as we were crouched behind that stone wall. In reality, I was on a swivel chair in the old Uillinn coffee shop, now repurposed as a VR theatre, wearing a VR headset. The Sean Keating painting that this experience is based on is the iconic Men of the South and you can read all about it here. 

Keating’s grandson, David Keating, and his creative partner Linda Curtin, have produced the VR experience, shooting it in West Cork in “360 stereoscopic + volumetric capture” with the help of many local people and the new West Cork Film Studio. Dr Éimear O’Connor provided the expert consultations on Sean Keating (below) and features, amusingly, as an exasperated director of the action. If you get a chance to see this anywhere, grab it! You can also read more about Sean Keating in this post by Robert from 2020.

And this War of Independence action leads nicely into Kathleen O’Connell. You will remember her as one of the heroines of Karen Minihan’s book More Extraordinary Ordinary Women. Take a quick trip back to this post and read all about her and her daring and courageous deeds.  I concluded this section by saying

Kathleen was ruined financially by all her support for the cause. Letters of support for her pension application were fulsome in praise of her work and her commitment. She was awarded a grade E pension in 1939. She died, here in 1945, aged 50. She had not married and had no children, and all memory of her gradually disappeared from Ballydehob. When Karen went looking for the house she had lived in, it seemed nobody could remember the heroic Kathleen O’Connell who had once lived here.

How wrong we were! Memory of Kathleen was far from dead. A relative of hers recently contacted Karen and on Friday afternoon we spent several hours with him and his charming grandson, rediscovering Kathleen from a man in whose family her memory was still fully alive. (He didn’t want his photo in the blog post, although Neven, the grandson, was happy to be in it.)

The first thing he showed us was her grave, at the historic Abbey Graveyard in Bantry. It contained many family members, including Kathleen. Our guide had knowledge of everyone in the grave and how they were related, and told us that there were probably more people in the plot than commemorated on the headstone. The grave looks out over the sea at Bantry.

Next, he brought us to the cabin belonging to her Uncle Pat where she sheltered men on the run. It’s located in the hills behind Ballydehob, down several lonely boreens and across a couple of (very muddy) fields. The cabin, now roofless, still stands and still has the wonderful oak mantle across the open fireplace.

We marvelled that Kathleen was doing all this on her bicycle – it’s several kilometres above Ballydehob and about 100 metres above sea level. And of course few of the roads would have been paved at that time. Our guide told us that she was totally and passionately committed to the cause, and that, since she was an only child, she carried her parents along with her. It was really they who underwrote all the expenses she incurred in her work. 

In the family, it was understood that she had been engaged to a man who was a member of a Flying Column – just like one of the Men of the South, but that he had been shot. We could only wonder at the trauma and distress she had experienced. She left for America in 1925, but returned to live in Ballydehob, and her father eventually outlived her. 

Our final mementoes of Kathleen were particularly poignant. Surviving in the family were two of her books, school books we think, in which she had written her name.

Each was very British – a reminder to us all what the standard school fare was at the time when we were members of the British Empire.

I have located a copy of the Royal Prince Reader (1910) on EBay – in Rajastan! A further reminder that empire was promoted through children’s literature as much as through military occupation.

Somehow these two books, her own possessions, brought Kathleen to life as nothing else could have done. We imagined her devouring these stories in school, and her gradual disillusion as she matured with what the Empire stood for.

It is an immense comfort to know that she is not forgotten after all.

Harry Clarke’s Brigid

Harry did several wonderful St Brigid windows, and included Brigid as a saint in larger scenes. There are also Brigid windows attributed to him that he actually didn’t do, but that’s a blog for another time. Today I want to give you a flavour of his take on Brigid, because this was a saint that must have been especially meaningful to him – his mother was a Brigid!

Brigid (sometimes given as Bridget) MacGonigal was born in Sligo and married Joshua Clarke, then an up-and-coming church decorator in Dublin and they had four children. Harry, their third child arrived in 1889. Brigid was never strong and died in Bray in August 1903, leaving her family bereft. Harry was 14 and that year marked the end of his schooling at Belvedere as he and his older brother Walter joined the family business to help run it. Harry was a sensitive child and it is likely that he missed and mourned his mother for many years. He also inherited her weak lungs and struggled, as she did, with his health.

I will start with the place that launched Harry’s career, the Honan Chapel at University College Cork (I’ll finish with the one that is on my lead photo). And in fact it is his first windows for that Chapel – a three light, depicting Brigid, Patrick and Columcille, our three Patron Saints. This window is over the entrance, facing west, which, with Harry’s preference for dark colours and some internal lighting issues in the chapel, makes it hard to photograph.

Harry had completed a detailed sketch design for this window in 1914 (Nicole Gordon Bowe has an image of that design in her magnificent The Life and Work of Harry Clarke) and the window was made in 1915. There are a few differences between the sketch design and the finished window, but on the whole, the window is true to Harry’s original vision for it. His notes for the window refer to 

Top: The Angel with the cloth of heaven forming background

The Figure: With emblems – the church, the inextinguishable spiritual lamp – the calf and the oak.

The Base: Are four angels carrying the prayers, prophesies, miracles and charities of St Brigid, also are shown the five lilies – she has been called the Mary of Ireland and these lilies symbolise the five provinces of Ireland over which she held spiritual control.

The cloth of heaven has been imagined as fronds in deeps reds, while St Brigid is shown as mature, wise and compassionate. She is holding a church which looks a lot like St Kevin’s Kitchen in Glendalough. In her other hand is a brown oak leaf, threaded through her fingers. The calf peers out from her right side. As befits a Mary of the Gael, she wears a deep blue robe. 

The predella (lowest section, above) shows four angels, but what they are carrying are torches – a reference to the spiritual lamp and the fire associated with Brigid. The symbols of the five provinces, recognisably lilies in the sketch design, have changed to another flower I can’t name. Note the tiny details, though – the crucifixion scene in the borders on the left and the right. The other detail to note here is that the fingers, of Brigid and the angels are ‘normal’ – Harry has not yet developed his signature long tapering fingers and pointed sleeves (among the idiosyncratic elements he called his “gadgets’).

His next Brigid (above) was for the Nativity window in Castletownsend – I have written about that window extensively here so pop over and have a browse if you fancy. The Castletownsend Brigid, done in 1918, looks quite similar to the Honan Brigid and has the same oak leaf entwined in her fingers. The difference is that she is carrying the sacred lamp, has the Harry Clarke fingers, and is spelled S Bridget – the English version rather than the Irish Naomh Brighid of the Honan. [For non-Irish speaking readers – the small dot on top of consonants in Irish is now normally rendered as H – as in Briġid is now Brighid.]

The next two windows, Terenure (above and below, details) from 1920 and Cloughjordan from 1924, show Brigid among a host of other saints. In Terenure the subject of the large window is The Crucifixion and the Adoration of the Cross by Irish Saints, and this is a large, three-light window behind the main altar. The saints are not all easy to identify, despite having their names in their haloes, but first and foremost among them are Patrick on the left and Brigid on the right.

Brigid is dressed in a blue robe which drapes on the ground around her, and has a golden trim to her sleeves.

In St Michael and St John’s Church in Cloughjordan, Co Tipperary, the theme of the large, five-light, window is The Ascension with Irish Saints and St Michael and St James. Gordon Bowe designates this one a Harry Clarke (B). That means that this window was initially conceived and designed by him but executed by his studio under his close supervision. This is the first window we have come across, in this series, that is not wholly Harry’s own work, and this is a measure of how busy the Studios had become with Harry at the helm. 

As in Terenure, Brigid is here as one of the Irish saints. She is depicted as very young, wide-eyed, and carrying a church which now looks more medieval than Romanesque (neither would have been appropriate to her era) and is probably a nod to the Cathedral in Kildare.

And so we come to the last Brigid that Harry ever did*. It is from the famous and controversial Geneva window, now in the Wolfsonian Museum in Miami. If you have not yet seen the marvellous documentary that Ardall O’Hanlon has made about this, I highly recommend you do. It’s available on the RTE Player as of this time of writing. The Brigid panel is among the less controversial images in the whole window. It’s based on a play by Lady Gregory called The Story Brought by Brigit. According to Marie T Mullan in her lovely book, Exiled from Ireland: Harry Clarke’s Geneva Window, 

The play is a passion play, but it is based on the legend, popular in Ireland and Scotland, that St Brigit was present at the birth and crucifixion of Jesus. Brigit mingles with the crowds from the time of Jesus’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem until after his death. She is a foreigner, observing and commenting. She tells people she is Jesus’s foster mother and brought Mary and Jesus to Ireland to escape Herod. . . The icon of Christ Crucified is a the vesica, a shape used often in art for a picture within a picture, and has the traditional beaded frame. Brigit is absorbed in the icon.

Note Brigid’s golden scapular and elaborate headdress. Also the stylised butterfly and the little woodland creatures in the scene.

I think that’s a good place to stop. Harry did another Brigid, for the Oblate Fathers in north Dublin’s Belcamp Hall. This is a sorry tale in which the buildings, once left by the priests were subject to appalling vandalism and the windows are in storage, and haven’t been seen for years. This is tragic. 

* Thanks to my friend Jack Zagar for the Photos of the Geneva Window.

Cnoc Buí Arts Centre and 20th Century Irish Art

We have a major new player in the arts scene in West Cork. Over the last couple of years, Cnoc Buí (cnoc buí – yellow hill) Arts Centre in Union Hall, has quietly established itself as a significant focus for the arts. I have attended several exhibitions there, always marvelling at the space, the light, the curation and the excellence of the art on exhibit. Here’s the list for 2024, although it doesn’t include the current exhibition, and that’s the one I want to write about today. 

First of all, a little about Cnoc Buí itself (photo above by Amanda Clarke). As the name suggests, it’s a yellow house, beside the sea in in Union Hall, renovated and fitted out for the arts. It’s the brainchild of Paul and Aileen Finucane, who have come to live in Union Hall permanently, after owning a house here for forty years. Passionate about art, and avid collectors, they are ‘giving back’ in the most magnificent way possible through their philanthropic efforts. Read more about them and Cnoc Buí in this story from the West Cork People. (Photo below courtesy of the West Cork People.)

Those of you not living in West Cork – you have no idea how rare it is to come face to face, in your own backyard, with the great Irish artists of the 20th century. Normally we have to go to Dublin, to the National Gallery, or the Hugh Lane.

Ahakista by Letitia Hamilton

I often get my fix from the wonderful Facebook Page 20th Century Irish Art, and I have come, thanks to that source, to recognise many of the names and styles of our leading artists.

Phyllis Leopold’s The Belfast Blitz

The only other comparable experience I have had here in West Cork was with the Coming Home expedition in 2018. Don’t get me wrong – I love 21st century art and we have SO many excellent artists and great venues here in West Cork, and we have written about and reviewed many, many shows. Remember The Souvenir Shop? Rita Duffy is here as well.

Kathleen Fox, Still Life with Bust

This show emphasises Irish women artists – over half of the pieces are by women. We are all rediscovering the superb women artists who were in the shadow of famous husbands (Grace Henry, Margaret Clarke) or unjustly neglected (Kathleen Bridle, Hilda Roberts, Gladys Mccabe), better known as stained glass ‘craftswomen’ (Evie Hone, Sarah Purser, Olive Henry, Kathleen Fox), written off as mere ‘Illustrators’ (Norah McGuinness), or who were even actively discriminated against by the male establishment and dominating figures like Sean Keating. Some are getting the last laugh now – there’s a new exhibition opening now in the National Gallery devoted to Mildred Anne Butler, who is represented in this exhibition.

Olive Henry is more familiar to me as a stained glass artist, so I was delighted to see this fine portrait

But it was women who led the Irish art world into the modern era: The Irish Exhibition of Living Art was founded by women who had been able to afford to go abroad to study  and had picked up newfangled ideas on the continent – women like Evie Hone and Mainie Jellett. Young artists flocked to their exhibitions, while the old guard stuck to their conservative, academic forms – echoed, of course, in the suppression of women and modernism in the new Irish State.

Evie Hone, Drying Nets – The Harbour Wall, Youghal

But here they all are, in Union Hall! The pioneering, courageous, persistent, driven, women of the new State. 

Portrait by Hilda Roberts

There are lots of men here too, of course – even Sean Keating, with a marvellous charcoal portrait of deValera. Did they grumble together about the goings-on over at the IELA?

John Sherlock was new to me and a great discovery – I have used his bust of John Hume as my lead image. 

Oisín Kelly (above, Bust of a Young Girl) is a personal favourite, and I have mentioned Thomas Ryan in another context: he is also, perhaps, under-appreciated. George Campbell, despite designing windows for Abbey Studios in the 60s and 70s, never got written off as a stained glass craftsman. The portrait (below) is of his mother, Greta Bowen, who only began painting at 70 and exhibited well into her 90s.

I recognised this painting, Mary Magdalen (below) as a Margaret Clarke right away, even though I had never seen it before.

It’s that combination of exact portraiture (I am willing to bet the angel was based on one of her children), the haunting expression in the eyes of Mary Magdalen, and the way the gestures mirror the scenery and shrubbery behind the figures.

The Sarah Purser is interesting on a number of fronts. Purser made her name with portraiture, using her connections to obtain many commissions – she herself said she went through the British nobility ‘like the measles.’ But this nude (below) is of Kathleen Kearney, ‘Mother of All the Behans’, who worked for Purser as a young (and very beautiful) woman. Sarah Purser’s many talents (she was a superb manager of An Túr Gloine Stained Glass Studio among many other things) are currently on full display at the Hugh Lane Gallery.

I have only given you a flavour of what’s in this exhibition. If you can, get down to Union Hall and take a wander through it yourself. If you get there on a weekend, the charming Nolan’s Coffee House will be open. 

Maeve McCarthy’s Tomatoes

Brian Lalor’s Retrospective

Uillinn, West Cork Arts Centre until October 12

Robert and I were excited about doing this post since we first knew this project was going ahead, a couple of years ago. Sadly, I am the one who gets to write it, but happily Robert is in there too, since Brian dedicated the exhibition book to his memory. That’s the two of them, below, showing off some of John and Noelle Verling’s ceramics acquired for the Ballydehob Arts Museum.

I described Brian in a previous post as a National Treasure. Artist, engraver, printmaker, print collector, curator, writer, editor – he has done, and continues to do it all, and this retrospective captures a lifetime of his multi-faceted interests. Brilliantly organised around the theme of Place by curator Vera Ryan, it leads us from the Middle East through Europe to North America, dwelling of course on his own Home Place, West Cork.

The book has essays by Angela Griffith of Trinity College and Anne Hodge of the National Gallery, a lengthy conversation with Vera Ryan, and a short concluding note by Brian. That’s Vera interviewing Brian at the launch, below.

Through all of these we get to know Brian, his life, his travels, his training as an artist (but first as an architect and archaeologist), his collector’s eye – the honed observational skills coupled with a vivid imagination that allow him to produce works that are at the same time minutely accurate and wildly fanciful. As Angela Griffith puts it,

He is a meticulous recorder of life, nature and the human-made environment. But he is also an interpreter, as such he captures the cadences of these spaces, reveals or create mythologies, and interrogates the impact of humans on the land, past and present. Many times he finds the lyrical in his subject matter.

Printmaking has been at the core of Brian’s work. His fascination with printing techniques dates from a young age and led him to amass a fine collections of prints, chosen not for their subject matter but for what they can reveal about the art of printmaking. That collection is now in the National Gallery. He helped to found the fine art printmakers, Graphic Studio Dublin, the success of which and indeed Ireland’s printmaking tradition, is charted in his book, Ink-Stained Hands. 

The exhibition itself contains multiple treasures that I haven’t seen before, even though I was familiar with some of Brian’s work. His enormous prints of Jerusalem, Rome and Dublin dominate several walls. His whimsical series on Icarus and Daedalus (above) was new to me, as were his American prints.

His Book, Cork, has been re-issued in celebration of the exhibition, and it contains several new images, including this one (below) deemed ‘too depressing’ for the original edition.

And it’s not only paper-based. He has collaborated with master-ceramicist Jim Turner on a series of fired earth works, some of which are politically charged. He knows the Gaza Strip intimately, after all.

If you are anywhere near Skibbereen before October 12th, make sure to visit this exhibition. It’s worth travelling for too. If you just can’t make it, you can visit Brian’s website here, and you can order books and prints from Uillinn. Or contact Uillinn at info@westcorkartscentre.com or by phone +3532822090

All I can do here is give you a tiny flavour of what’s in store at this outstanding show. Below I am appending a list of posts written by Robert or me that are either about Brian’s work, or illustrated by his art. I was amazed when I went back and looked at how many Brian-related posts we had written about him over the years. Partly that’s because he and Robert worked so closely together on the Ballydehob Arts Museum, but mostly it’s because we have been so bowled over by his art and writing.

Brian Lalor posts

The Fertile Crescent – an extraordinary exhibition at The Blue House Gallery in Schull

The Fertile Crescent – A Review

An obituary for Lee Snodgrass, Illustrated with many of Brian’s drawings:

Lee Snodgrass and Mizen Archaeology

Bohemians in Ballydehob, about the Ballydehob Arts Museum

Bohemians in Ballydehob!

Ballydehob on Bahnhofstrasse – an account of a 1985 exhibition in Zurich by many of the core group of West Cork artists. 

Ballydehob on Bahnhofstrasse!

Church of the Angels, using illustrations from Brian’s sketchbook

Mizen Magic 19: Church of the Angels

A two-part review of the Book Cork, illustrations by Brian Lalor, poetry by Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin

Cork, Part 1: Brian Lalor
Cork, Part 2: Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin

Several 12 arch bridge depictions by Brian in these two posts

The Twelve Arches of Ballydehob
12 Arches of Ballydehob – Pics for Christmas Day!

Review of West of West: An Artist’s Encounter with West Cork

An Artist’s Encounter with West Cork

Review of 36 views of Mount Gabriel, a 2022 Exhibition in The Blue House Gallery

Thirty-Six Views of Mount Gabriel

Brian’s Original sketchbook for his field trips around West Cork with the Mizen Archaeological and Historical Society was the basis for this post on Signal Towers.

Brian’s Sketchbook: The Signal Towers

Rossbrin Review

The weather so far this year is breaking records for coldness, wetness and evapotranspiration – while Earth as a whole continues to get warmer. In simple terms that means it’s not pleasant to wander too far from home. I decided to walk down to the shoreline of Rossbrin Cove – all of ten minutes – and see what the winter storms may have washed up: often an interesting diversion.

Above: looking down on Rossbrin Cove with some of the islands of Roaringwater Bay beyond. It is a natural harbour, and there is a thriving boatyard at the western end of it. The difference between low and high tides is around 2.5 metres on average, and much of the inlet dries out when it is at an extreme low. I timed my walk to arrive when the tide was fully down, as I wanted to explore the exposed mud-flats, with hopes of finding intriguing detritus.

Not an inspiring start! In fact, as I continued my review, I noted that there was very little other than the natural environment – weather-worn boulders, skeletal shells and masses of seaweed – to disturb the order of things in Rossbrin on this February day. If our harsh storms had been of some positive effect it was perhaps to flush out any washed-up debris that might have accumulated in the winter – being now past St Brigid’s Day I consider it appropriate to call the season spring.

No matter that the exploration was superficially disappointing, the magic of this little bit of West Cork soon took over, and my mind was filled with the enormity of its history. There was a university here in medieval times: manuscripts were written here in the castle that has become a crumbling pile. Ravens and seabirds now rule over the stronghold. I walked on.

The margins of the cove are lined with ancient banks. At every turn there is a composition which a maestro could frame: I make do with a camera. Rossbrin inspired our artist friend Peter Clarke . . . Thank you, Peter!

Evidence of more recent history: possibly a pot which was used in the process of tarring a clinker boat hull. No doubt vessels were built on these shores – and used to make basic livings. There is still fishing activity in and around the cove; mussel beds thrive in Roaringwater Bay; seaweed collection happens also. In summer months the deeper waters of Rossbrin are occupied by leisure orientated sailing craft. I enjoy the calm days of winter when there is hardly anything on the water. I watched a small flock of oystercatchers scurrying and foraging with their brilliant beaks, and then I turned for home.

The Rossbrin oystercatchers were uncooperative, and wouldn’t let me photograph them. Instead I have imported this wonderfully atmospheric painting by Cornish based artist Steve Sherris. Thank you, Steve

We have posted extensively about Rossbrin Cove, its history and its people. Have a look at these:

The Down Survey – Closer to Home

Looking at Rossbrin

Rossbrin Calendar

Fastnet Trails: Rossbrin Loop 2