Here’s my almost-finished canvas for the ‘race’ in Ireland.
Since I discovered that Phelan was an Irish name (no kidding, my parents never mentioned it my entire childhood) I have been thrilled by the Book Of Kells.
It’s a work of “cold-blooded hallucination” according to Umberto Eco.
But according to history, it’s a sublime illuminated text in Latin, of the gospels of the various saints. The crazy knots, elongated legs and daintily crossed lion’s feet speak to me. The fact that there are only three recognizably feminine faces irritates me. But it is enchanting, mysterious, ecstatic. Brilliant colors and lots of red dots and gold.
Too tired to go on…there are plenty of sites dedicated to this Irish treasure.
My new friends at Biking Ireland, Niall and Tarja will be showing me their country. Jac Marquis has secured a visit with the greatest living woman cyclist (in MY opinion), or maybe the oldest…anyway the prolific, opinionated, decades ahead of her time Dervla Murphy.
I have lobbed fan notes to her addressed as followed: Dervla Murphy, Lismore, Ireland.
They never drew response.
She was always away away away, writing and experiencing the formerly remote corners of the world. No person born today will see the planet as she saw it….and I just want to look into her million mile wrinkled face and let her know she’s inflamed a rider or two over here in California.