Dreams of Ireland

A series of black and white landscapes taken during my first trip to Ireland in the summer of 2007

I was walking the streets of New York with a Holga camera a few years ago when I made a shot of the Gaseteria in SOHO. Realizing what I had captured, I couldn’t wait to process the film. The image was magical, with flaring and light leaks; it spoke of the mood of the city at the time. At that point I knew I was on to something.

Dreams of Ireland are a series of black and white landscapes taken during my travels. It was my first trip to Ireland in the summer of 2007. I stayed at the home of Father Martin Hughes, a family friend whose cottage overlooked the Irish Sea. Having grown up Irish Catholic I knew this was a good omen.

The beauty of Ireland’s countryside along with the constantly changing weather allowed me to create some incredible images. With three plastic Holga cameras, each with their own unique qualities and personalities, I was off and running. Through pouring rain and puddles of mud there were moments of brilliant sunshine, creating breathtaking plays of shadow and light.

From Carlingford Lough in Northern Ireland, an area where it is not uncommon to come upon sheep and wild horses grazing in fields or spectacular sunrises at 4:00 am. I continued north, stopping along the way to capture ruins of castles, abbeys and cemeteries.

Later in my trip, one of the more memorable moments happened as I was traveling through southern Ireland. I was aware the Conway family was from County Cork and that somewhere there was a Conway Pub.

In a pub across from the Blarney Castle, I asked the barkeep if he knew the location of the ‘Conway Pub’. Are you a Conway? Yes, I replied. He then said wait here, I have something better.

Thirty minutes later a man in his late forties walked through the door. He looked just like my father. His name was Kevin Conway, the youngest of nine children from County Cork. He carried with him the family tree that he had been working on for many years. It was carefully folded yellow pages, taped together, that opened out like a tree. The edges were worn and the tape was yellowing, so you understood that this was labor of love. We talked for hours. It became obvious this was a place where he had met many visiting Conway’s over the years.

Dreams of Ireland…

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