Small thing, and I'm still buzzing off it. I did a commission for a couple over in Oranmore, a St Brigid's cross with the rushes done as a big bold black shape over a grey sky, cut in lino, edition of 30. Not my usual hare, but they asked and I liked the idea, the cross is a fierce strong graphic when you strip it back. It took me three weeks and I redid the whole block once because the first one the arms were too thin and it just looked like a starfish having a bad day. Anyway, I dropped it in this morning. Man opens the door, takes the print, holds it out at arm's length, and says nothing for a solid ten seconds. I'm standing there dying, thinking right, he hates it, do I offer to take it back. Then he goes "hang on till I get herself" and walks off down the hall and I can hear him calling her like there's a fire. She came out and got genuinely teary. Said her granny had one on the wall of the kitchen in Clifden and she'd forgotten the shape of it. And here's the bit that got me. I know it's just a bit of lino and a bad back from the press. But for about a minute this morning it didn't feel like work at all. Sitting here with the tea gone cold, still grinning at nothing like an eejit.
