Stitching and Storytelling Among the Rocky Fields

At the very far reaches of the Mizen, surrounded by townlands whose names all translate as variants on the theme of rocky fields, in a place with immense views, lies an oasis of creativity and charm: the home of Owen and Kate Kelly and their family.

Three of us, Artist Christina, Blogger Finola, and Writer/Actor/Director Karen, fetched up there on a blue sky day this week, to visit Owen and see his craft. Owen is a stitcher, an embroiderer, a needleworker. He’s also a professional coach (international table tennis), a gardener and a conservationist. Nowadays, he, as a fifth-generation stitcher, makes his living crafting unique garments and decorative elements for high-end clothing. 

It has all grown organically from his social media accounts on Facebook and Instagram and Bluesky. Somehow, the like-minded find each other and the army of admirers grows, and the orders start to arrive.

Owen doesn’t just decorate – he tells stories with every piece. The first thing he showed us was his memory skirt, full of his own history. That’s his trip to Glastonbury, here’s a particularly memorable table tennis tournament, the birth of a daughter, his grandmother’s favourite stitch in her favourite colour. 

He thinks it’s finished and I certainly didn’t see any place to add more, but heck, you never know.

Here’s the back of a jacket that I assumed was an owl – but Owen was referencing the need for masking that so many people feel. That is, they cope with life by concealing their mental struggles, their ADHD or Autistic tendencies, in order to fit in. It’s exhausting, and his depiction is an act of masking in itself, since I jumped to the conclusion that this was a bird.

And the mask is a good piece to take a closer look at the sheer variety of individual stitching styles. I have a vague memory from school of learning blanket stitch, daisy chain, French something-or-other, but Owen must know hundreds of different stitch types. Zoom in!

Owen walked us through the process of designing the back of a Ralph Lauren shirt for a client – sorry, that should be, for a friend. That’s what they all turn into. In this case he has already done pieces for other members of the family so he knows the children, the grandchildren, the stories, the likes, the hobbies, the icons they gravitate to.

What fascinated me most is that he doesn’t start out (as left-brained me would do) with a plan – there is no sketch design, no chalk marks on fabric, no story board or end-goal. But in his head is the story he wants to tell. He calls this process ‘flow stitching.’

In this case the story is about a proud grandpa, so there’a grandfather clock and an owl for wisdom, and the heart that he and Grandma once carved on a tree. There’s a tree too, and a rainbow. And, can you see it? The overall shape is a Buddha.

The grandson is there, with the tiger, and the cow jumping over the moon and Humpty Dumpty waving Owen’s signature red hat. The granddaughter loves mermaids. And in between there are all kinds of little symbols and references, in all kinds of different stitches and colours. As I poured over it, all I could think of was – be still my heart – how I would love to be at the unveiling of this wonderful garment. 

He learned his skills from his mother and grandmother and of course he got bullied in school but he persisted anyway. He’s heavily influenced by indigenous art, by Indian and Persian designs and by Celtic interlacing and illuminated manuscripts such as the Book of Kells. 

He cites his remote location on the edge of the Atlantic as another influence – the colours, the wildness, tuning in to the natural world and the deep tradition of story telling and mythology. 

Ongoing projects include his hoops – 6” rounds, each one telling a story, and his quilt pieces, which will (may?) eventually make up a whole quilt. He loves to play with symmetry – with half- or quarter-designs for example, that need to be matched with other halves or quarters to make a whole.  

And of course – there’s Seamus! Seamus O’Comanssy is a little stitched guy who is travelling the world. He’s currently in Australia, but before that it was Slovakia and before that France. You can follow his journey – even volunteer to host him!

I’ll leave you with images of a hat – Owen is a hat man and his signature is a red hat. In fact when I met him recently he was wearing a red jacket, a red hat, and an amazing embroidered tie. 

And I didn’t leave empty handed – I took away one of Kate’s lovely mugs. She’s been experimenting with a new green glaze and it’s gorgeous. I can report that coffee tastes really good from it too. That’s Kate’s own photograph, below. Her pottery is for sale at the Mizen Visitor’s Centre.

Thanks for such a lovely visit, Owen and Kate. 

If you’d like to hear Owen talking about his life and work, tune in to the Stitchery Stories Podcast.

Stone Mad, Re-Issued

Yesterday, in a ceremony in the Cork Public Museum, Mercier Press launched a re-issued Stone Mad, by Seamus Murphy. This year is the 50th anniversary of Seamus’s death, in 1975. The book is also the One City One Book choice of the Cork City Library, as part of the 2025 Cork World Book Fest taking place all this week in venues across Cork.

I attended the launch in the Museum, in Fitzgerald Park, home of several sculptures by Seamus, including this one of De Valera, above. Long-time readers will remember our own Rock Art Exhibition in the same building ten years ago – somehow apt that it featured the prehistoric version of the stone carving tradition we were celebrating yesterday. 

The book was officially launched by the poet Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin, about whom I wrote here. She had known him in the old days in Cork, and her’s was a wonderful, evocative, beautifully written summary of Seamus and his book. She finished with words that resonated with everyone in the room (and it was packed!) – I paraphrase it as: Read this book again. And afterwards, go and wander around Cork. You will never look at it the same way again.

Eoghan Daltun, author of An Irish Atlantic Rain Forest, was there too. Besides a passionate conservationist, he is a skilled sculptural restorer, and was responsible from rescuing Dreamline from weather and lichen damage a couple of years ago. Standing within the display of carvings and tools and images, all carefully set up by the Museum team led by Curator Dan Breen, Eoghan talked us through what was involved in carving in stone and, many years later, restoring the artwork. 

I was also very pleased to meet Ken Thompson, the stone carver who finished off lettering on Seamus’s headstones, after his death, and who carved many monuments I have encountered in Cork and elsewhere, including the inspirational memorial to the Victims of the Air India tragedy in Ahakista, below. 

Seamus Murphy is acknowledged as one of Ireland’s best stone carvers, and an icon of the 20th century Cork cultural scene. His work can be seen all over Ireland, but especially in an around Cork. If you are not that familiar with his output, the documentary Seamus Murphy A Quiet Revolution is a great introduction to his life and work.

Stone Mad has been a favourite on our shelves as long as Robert and I have had a joint library. We own a couple of copies, including a hardback of the second edition, signed by Seamus and with illustrations by William Harrington. It’s an evocative summation of his life as a ‘stoney’, the men with whom he worked, and the craft they honed together. It has become iconic, as much for its on-the-ground and entertaining picture of life in a Cork stone yard as for its musings on stone carving as an art, from medieval times to the present day. For some extracts, see my post, Building a Stone Wall.

The illustrations by William Harrington, pen and ink sketches, capture the work, the camaraderie of pub life after a hard day’s work, but also includes a sensitively drawn portrait of Seamus. 

If you don’t have a copy of Stone Mad, do get one – it deserves a place in your library. I will leave the last word to Ken Thompson, from the documentary I link to above. Ken inherited Seamus’s tools (below) – most of them look surprisingly delicate for the work they do, don’t they?

Ken says, Now he’s been dead for 40 years, but I see his work in churches all the time. His work is shining out. It’s still a beacon. It still speaks.

The Black Eagle of the North (Saints and Soupers 9)

If you’ve read my series Saints and Soupers, you might remember the character who appears in Part 6, Father John James Murphy – The Black Eagle of the North. That’s him, below. It’s always been my intention to revisit him at some point, specifically to try to investigate that amazing nickname. It’s only taken me 6 years. 

First of all, let me tell you why now, and then the deeply personal reason why I want to write more about Fr Murphy. Why now? I have just been loaned a copy of Father John Murphy: Famine Priest by AJ Reilly, published in 1963 by Clonmore and Reynolds – my sincere thanks to Jennifer Pyburn of Schull for the loan, and Dan Allen of Goleen for conveying it to me. An aside – the Clonmore in the publisher’s title is from Lord Clonmore, later 8th Earl of Wicklow, who together with his partner Reynolds (about whom I can discover nothing) founded the only serious Catholic publishing company in Ireland in the first part of the 20th century. Apparently, when Clonmore was a boy, he used to attend the servants’ mass on Sunday morning and later converted to Catholicism, which horrified his Church of Ireland Anglo-Irish family. His father disinherited him, but he nevertheless succeed to the title in 1946. His father, by the way, was the Earl of Wicklow I wrote about in my post Ecce Homo: Harry Clarke’s Kilbride Window

And the personal reason? Reading about Fr Murphy transported me back to my own fur trade days! From 1974 to 1978 I was enrolled in a doctoral program in Archaeology at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver. My research and projects were centred on the excavation of fur trade forts along the Peace River (above), in northern British Columbia, built and occupied between 1793 and 1823, when they were shut down as a result of a massacre. For several summers I camped on the fort sites and dug what was left after 150 years of abandonment. I also spent time in the Hudson’s Bay Co Archives in Winnipeg, piecing together from the original manuscript journals what had happened in those forts. So when I read about Fr Murphy and his time in the Hudson Bay company, some of it is so familiar. Some of it, of course, is pure speculation – something that is readily admitted by Reilly.

One of our resources for what life was like in early British Columbia was a book, The Wild North Land, by an Irish man – William Francis Butler (below). That’s my copy, above, but it is available on good old archive.org. What a man – adventurer, soldier, writer – he became one of my heroes. He undertook a journey across the wilds of Canada, in the footsteps of the fur traders, in the 1870s, living as they would have lived. So I am illustrating this post with pictures from that book. HIs map is part of his epic journey – the part that contains the Peace River. Try to find Fort St John on it – that’s where I was digging.

Reilly has done a masterful job of piecing together what can be gleaned from sparse documentation. He has tried to be as accurate as possible, but his pen runs away with admiration for his subject and with his enthusiasm for his deeds. What is clear is that Murphy joined the Hudson’s Bay Company as a clerk in 1816.

He was a tall young man with naval experience in the East India Company already, and his physique, courage and talent shone through in his various assignments. Here’s a mention in a dispatch:

I send you a young clerk by the name of Murphy who has been engaged for the service by Auldjo of Montréal. He is totally without experience in the fur trade, but I think you will find him active, zealous and intrepid. He is rather inclined to be wild and will be the better of being under strict discipline. But I have observed many marks of good principles and I am confident he is disposed to act right if the line of his duty is distinctly pointed out to him.

and another`;

A very steady, spirited and enterprising young man; who bears privations and hardships with cheerfulness and has conducted himself in every undertaking he had to perform with credit and satisfaction.

From a different source, by B G Mac Carthy, comes what is likely an accurate description:

To hold one’s own under such grim conditions one needed to have great courage and tremendous physical endurance. Murphy was now a man of well over six feet in height, of mighty frame and muscle. His strength, daring, honesty and unusual intelligence made him an invaluable servant of the Company. From the beginning he had to prove his mettle, since he seems always to have been chosen for the most hazardous tasks. Immediately on his first arrival at New Brunswick House he was sent to capture two men of the North West Trading Company who were wanted for robbery. It was then late autumn. None but an experienced woodsman, hunter and fighter could hope to survive in that wild and frozen land. 

Several tales are told of his popularity with the Indians*, and through their liking for him many new faces were seen coming to trade at New Brunswick House, the post he was put in charge of. There is also a six year hiatus in the records in which it is unclear where he was and what he was doing, but he may have been living in Canada and pursuing life as an independent trader. It is during this period he is thought to have been adopted by a Indian community and given the name Black Eagle of the North.

This account is from his nephew, Colonel Hickie.

Soon he became restless; and one day, with a party of trappers, he left the settlement and struck into the heart of the forest. While on the March he encountered a tribe of Indians, with whom he threw in his lot and wondered through the wilds of Canada for 12 years. Crowned with feathers, dressed in skins, and with a painted face, the Indians loved him. He was elected their chief and was known as the black eagle of the North.

The whole idea of becoming a Blood Brother and living as a chief among the Indian community is very Boys Own – the stuff of many a romantic wild west melodrama. However true all this was, the soubriquet followed him when he left Canada and eventually, via Rome, ordination, Liverpool and Cork, arrived in Goleen at the height of the Famine, riding his black ‘charger’ and tasked with winning back the souls of the Soupers of Toormore. It is mentioned in his obituaries, so it was obviously part of his mystique and reputation for the rest of his life.

He didn’t stay long in Goleen, possibly less than a year and the rest of his days were spent in Cork, where he built the magnificent Church of Peter and Paul in Paul Street. He died an archdeacon, with a reputation for charity and kindness to the poor and a saintly disregard for his own comfort.

His life has inspired Reilly’s book, but also two essays, both of which seem equally full of fanciful accounts, some of which are based on reminiscences from family members. The lengthy quote in Part 6 of Saints and Soupers that starts The scene changes to a clearing in the virgin forests of Canada is from White Horsemen by M P Linehan, and the quote from Col Hickie is from this piece.

*I use the term here as it is used in the original documents, but the accepted term now for indigenous Canadians is First Nations people

Here is the page with links to the complete Saints and Soupers series.

The Hare Headstone

A very quick post today. I wanted to share with all our readers the newly-erected headstone for Robert. We gathered last Saturday to honour Robert, a year after his passing, and to celebrate the installation of the headstone. It is the work of Victor Daly, friend and stone carver from the Sheeps Head. As our friends and readers know, Robert was obsessed with hares. This is the exact memorial he would have wanted.

Thank you to Oliver Nares for the photographs.

Punishment and Pilgrimage in 16th Century Ireland

In 1539 a certain Heneas MacNichaill (Henry McNicol) of Armagh confessed to a particularly heinous crime, that of strangling his son. We know nothing about the reason, nothing about the son – an indication that it was more important to record the punishment than the details of the crime. 

We know what the punishment was because it is recorded in the Register of Bishop George Dowdall. Dowdall was a fascinating character, living in a time when it was prudent to be Catholic, then Protestant, then Catholic again and finally back to Protestant. Dowdall was not for turning – he resigned his seat as Primate of Ireland rather than approve of the Book of Common Prayer. He was later restored to the See by Bloody Mary (below), dying conveniently just before she did. While in office he kept what is known as ‘Dowdall’s Register’, the last in the series of volumes of medieval records which survive for Armagh.

One of Dowdall’s Deans, Edmund, meted out the punishment to Heneas MacNichaill. He was ordered to do a round of pilgrimages to all of the great Irish Medieval Pilgrim sites – 18 of them. We don’t know how common such a sentence was, but Salvador Ryan tells us that such punishments

. . . often took the form of a long, arduous pilgrimage, a substantial deed of almsgiving or some kind of penitential abstinence or fasting.

The annalists frequently record instances of pilgrimages undertaken as penance. The Annals of Ulster, for instance, relate that in 1491 ‘Henry, son of Hubert, son of James Dillon slew his own father, namely Hubert, with thrust of knife and he himself set out for Rome after that. The sinner might also found a monastery, as expiation for sin, or at least offer to sponsor an existing foundation’s restoration. Some accounts of the Mag Uidhir clan illustrate how individuals belonging to an important Gaelic family, in this case rulers of Fermanagh, made reparation to their God. In 1428, ‘Aedh, son of Philip Mag Uidhir went on his pilgrimage to the city of St James…and died…after cleansing of his sins in the city of St James.’

From: Popular Religion In Gaelic Ireland

St James, above, with his pilgrim’s attributes of the scallop shell and the staff and pouch.

Heneas returned two years later, in 1541. The Register records it thus:

71. Certificate of fulfilment of penance. Memorandum that, on the 4th April, 1541, Heneas McNichaill, a layman of Armagh, appeared before the Primate to declare that he had fulfilled the penance imposed on him by Edmund, Dean of Armagh and custos of the spiritualities of the vacant see, for having strangled his son. 

He had visited : 

1. Struhmolyn in Reghterlaegen in Patria Kewan (or Rewan ?). 

2. Lectum Cayn in Glendalough (i.e., St. Kevin’s Bed). 

3. Rosse Hyllery 0 Garbre in patria McCarbre Rewa, principale purgatorium hic ut dicit (Ros-ailithreach, Co. Cork). 

4. S heilig Meghyll in patria McCathiremore (i.e., The Skelligs, off the coast of Kerry). 

5. Arayn Nenaw (i.e., Ara na Naomh). 

6. Cruake Brenan in patria militis Kerray (Crock Brendain, in Kerry). 

7. Sanctorum Flanani et McEdeaga in Momonia (i.e., Killaloe). 

8. Comllum. Sti. Patricii in Conacia in patria Y maille (i.e., Croagh Patrick).

9. Purgatorium Sti. Patricii apud Loughdirge in patria Ydonyll (i.e., St. Patrick’s Purgatory in Lough Derg). 

10. Enysskworym Sti. Gworain Anmerrys Downy 

11 in Conacia (Gort, Co. Galway). 11. Cornancreigh in patria McSwyne. 

12. Tyrebane in patria Ydonyll. 

13. Sanctum Cntcem apud Woghterlawan in patria Comit?s Ormond (i.e., Holy cross). 

14. Can eh C ai s sill (i.e., The Rock of Cashel). 

15. Dwyne, et Sawyll, et Craen Yssa (or Craev Yssa) et Strwyll (i.e., Down, Saul . . . and Struell). 

The Primate re-affirmed the absolution. (Primas continuavit causam absolu tio

Laurence P Murray*

So Heneas had done his time and was forgiven his great sin. But where had he gone on this trip around Ireland? The sites have all been identified by scholars. Some are obvious (Cashel, Lough Derg, Croagh Patrick, Glendalough) and remain important sites of pilgrimage to this day.

Pattern at Glendalough by Peacock, courtesey of the National Gallery of Ireland

But some are obscure – and it’s one of those I want to talk about today.  Number 7 on the list is recorded as Sanctorum Flanani et McEdeaga in Momonia. Sanctorum Flanani is straightforward – it’s St Flannan’s Shrine in Killaloe (below).

It’s the one next to it that had scholars chewing their pencils – McEdeaga in Momonia. But it has now been identified as St Erc’s Holy Well in Glenderry, near Ballyheigue, on Kerry Head in the extreme northwest corner of Kerry. Amanda had tried to find it twice before but last week she hit it lucky and I was along for the ride. 

This map is from the wonderful Journeys of Faith: Stories of Pilgrimages from Medieval Ireland by Louise Nugent. One of our reasons for being in Kerry was to hear Louise’s talk to the Kerry Archaeological and Historical Society and she showed us this illustration of Heneas’s journey – I was immediately captivated by the fact that the well Amanda was seeking was on the map!

I can’t emphasise enough how obscure this well is now. Although the Corridons, the traditional well-keepers have kept the knowledge alive, it has faded from the memory of everyone else and is no longer a site of pilgrimage at all. And who was St Erc? His little church, above, is still a sacred spot on Kerry head. He is associated with St Brendan – he baptised Brendan and blessed his voyage.

I will treasure forever Amanda’s excitement at Michael Corridon’s offer to take her to the well, and the enormous beam on her face upon her return. But there was one more thrill in store – so what I want you to do now is go to Amanda’s blog and she will take up the story. This is a co-op blog!

I will leave you with Michael Corridon and Amanda setting off for the well. Now go to A Mysterious Well at the End of the World – St Erc, Kerry Head

*The Register of Bishop George Dowdall can be found in a series of articles for the Journal of the County Louth Archaeological and History Society: from their issues of 1926 to 1930.
A Calendar of the Register of Primate George Dowdall, Commonly Called the “Liber Niger” or “Black Book.” (Continued) Author(s): Laurence P. Murray Source: Journal of the County Louth Archaeological Society , Dec., 1927, Vol. 6, No. 3 (Dec., 1927), pp. 147-158 Available on Jstor

Dignity and Simplicity: Scott/Tallon in Knockanure

This week I fulfilled a long-held ambition – to visit Corpus Christi Church in Knockanure, Co Kerry.

This was one of Ireland first modern churches, built in 1964, and designed, depending on which authority you read, by Michael Scott or by his partner, Ronnie Tallon. At any rate, it was certainly the work of what is now, since 1975, the architectural practice of Scott Tallon Walker, still going strong. Michael Scott, according to Richard Hurley in his outstanding book Irish Church Architecture, was “the leading architect of his generation.” The black and white photos of Knockanure in this post are from that book. Meanwhile Ronnie Tallon was “one of the most influential Irish architects of the last century”. 

Hurley assigns the design to Michael Scott, while this piece from RTE (source of the second quote above) declares it to be the work of Ronnie Tallon. I am convinced by the latter, having read Stony Road Press’s artist description and statement by Ronnie Tallon, in which he talks about his obsession with the simplicity of the square and with the work of Mies van der Rohe.

But Scott (above), as the head of the practice was undoubtedly involved. Hurley tells the story of how the commission was won:

The whole project was a bold intervention by Michael Scott who, when he was asked to design the church, was required to seek approval from the people of the parish. This he succeeded in doing at a meeting which was held in the local school attended by the head of each family. Nobody before or since had dared to construct a church of such rigid discipline which, in spite of its small scale, raises itself above the surrounding countryside.

This is a profoundly rural area in North Kerry, and yet it is home to a number of modern, innovative churches. Knockanure was the first, indeed one of the first in Ireland. Is there something in the water, that produces such forward-thinking parishioners who can see beyond the confines of gothic arches and rose windows? I don’t know, but I made sure to drink lots of water during my visit to North Kerry.

Photo above by Amanda Clarke

Hurley describes Corpus Christi as a building of absolute dignity and simplicity, but one which at the same time had little or no sympathy with the Kerry landscape. I’m not sure I quite agree with the second part, since the area around Knockanure is flat and low-lying. The church appears to be built on a platform, with steps leading up to the front, so that it is clearly visible on the landscape. 

The church is indeed rigidly disciplined – a rectangle that gives the appearance of a light and airy open box. Two panels, one at the front and one at the back, delineate the worship space, while clerestory windows created by the roof beams allow light to pour down the side walls. The back panel conceals and makes space for the sacristy.

The church furniture, all part of the original 1960s design, enhance the simplicity and the unity of the design, from the black marble altar and fonts to the low, beautiful benches. 

In keeping with the directives of Vatican II, the church incorporated work by some of the finest artists of the time. The front panel is in fact a large-scale sculpture, in wood, of the Last Supper, by Oisín Kelly. It is the first thing you see when you enter, immediately heralding a devotional space. The back of the panel holds two confessionals. 

The cross is by Imogen Stuart, as is the carved wooden Madonna and child statue. Imogen died last year, aged 96.

The stations are unique – large tapestries designed by Leslie MacWeeney, an artist who has slipped from our consciousness in Ireland as she moved to the United states while still quite young. There’s a chapter about her in Brian Lalor’s Ink-Stained Hands – she was one of the original founders of the Graphics Studios – and a more recent interview with her here. 

This is a nationally important building and an early and striking example of the influence of modern architectural movements on Irish architects. The RTE piece was part of the 100 Buildings of Ireland series. (We visited another one, just up the road – but that’s a post for another day).

In the 100 Buildings piece, Tallon is quoted as taking inspiration from Irish Romanesque architecture. 

Irish Romanesque churches… were remarkable for their small size, extremely simple plan, rich and delicate decoration, giving a shrine effect which, at that time, had almost disappeared elsewhere. They were of single-chamber construction, with massive side walls projecting beyond the front and back façades the cross-walls including the façades were left as open as possible and were developed as a series of arched screens.

I am puzzled by this quote and I wonder if Tallon was even referring to this church, which owes nothing to Romanesque architecture. The projections he refers to (known as antae) actually predate the Romanesque style. Take a look at my two-part post on Cormac’s chapel to see if you can figure out why Romanesque architecture has been dragged into the story of this church, as if to somehow Hibernicise a building which belongs, triumphantly, to the International Modern style.

Vatican II and a new generation of Irish architects taking their cues from Europe dragged the Catholic Church I grew up in, into the 20th century. Corpus Christi in Knockanure is at the forefront of that breakthrough design revolution.