Sorry my dear friend Houston, more sport! Rather Olympic coverage and Olympic emotions. I like the fact that when the tensions break and the jobs done so many men and women allow the tears to flow. It’s healthy in my opinion, it’s not feeling sorry for yourself, it’s purely a release of all the stress that has built up towards these vitally important events. I remember a little boy coming into the kitchen with blood dripping from his mouth. What’s wrong? “I fell and bumped myself and I was crying because it was sore and Granmum said big boys don’t cry and to bite my lip.” I soon disabused him of this advice and had words with Granmum! News: Big boys do cry. Crocodile tears don’t wash with me but tears of real emotion are healthy as long as they are in the appropriate place probably not in the office or in a meeting or at a social gathering, might irritate and won’t end with a hug so hold them in until you’re on your own or with someone who will understand.
It’s also noticeable that the women Olympians are really glamorous these days, false eyelashes and painted nails. I also applaud the commentators both in Manchester and Tokyo, a bit of a cheat putting Claire Balding and her mates in a studio 6000 miles away from the action but the setting with the background of Tokyo city complete with twinkling lights certainly had most people fooled.
Especially enjoying Matt Baker with the gymnastics – more used to him on Country File and late of The One Show but as he is a gymnastic himself he certainly knows what he’s talking about and he has a gentle manner and when he gets excited so do I.
My sunflowers are glowing, the gladiolas are blooming and the little seeds planted months ago are just about to flower. The tomatoes are vibrant green but on the turn, praise to the Ailsa Craigs of this world. Home grown just emphasises the tastelessness of supermarket varieties.
Thank you to Houston who has inspired me to move on with this posting on Maeve Binchy. This wonderful woman gave a lecture some years ago and challenged those in the audience to write a book within a year. I did and I wrote to thank her and had a kind and encouraging reply. On her 9th anniversary this is her philosophy:
“Learn to type. Learn to drive. Have fun. Write postcards. (Letters take too long and you won’t do it, a postcard takes two minutes.) Be punctual. Don’t worry about what other people are thinking. They are not thinking about you. Write quickly. (Taking longer doesn’t usually make it better.) Get up early. See the world. Call everybody by their first name, from doctors to presidents. Have parties. Don’t agonise. Don’t regret. Don’t fuss. Never brood. Move on. Don’t wait for permission to be happy. Don’t wait for permission to do anything. Make your own life.”RIP Maeve Binchy (1940-2012)
A Festival Of Art
The party’s over, it’s time to call it a day, and what a party it was towards the end of last month. Attended by around 70,000 guests, years to plan, two weeks to set up and only one week to clear up and move on. There couldn’t have been a nicer venue, the slopes of Culloden Hotel and the sumptuous hotel itself where for 23 days Oliver Gormley hosted the international Art & Soul exhibition showing 125 painting and sculptures worth six million pounds, Andy Warhol, Salvador Dali rubbing shoulders with leading Irish artists, and all but one piece, a borrowed F.E McWilliams, was for sale.
“It was very successful from that point of view, it sold well.” When he took a break from overseeing the dismantling of the exhibition Oliver and I sat down and had a chat. Surrounded by rolls of bubble wrap and half packed precious items, I discovered that one was heading for Japan, a Banksie valued at £75.000 and another to California; thanks to online buying these art works are now spread out over the world. Once the smaller items were packed and labelled, the fork lifts moved in to hoist up the heavy bronze, marble and steel sculptures to be crated and sent on their way.
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Thankfully it was a success but it could have gone the other way I suggested, however, Oliver likes a calculated gamble, “although I wouldn’t put even £20 on a horse.” He’s an optimist. “I like to give, I’ve found that what you give today comes back to you tomorrow.”
A Born Salesman
He’s kind and generous but he’s also a shrew businessman. He has a commercial eye, after all he ran eight businesses, all at the same time in the 1980s. “I’ve sold all my life, news agencies, toy shops and sports outlets, cold drinks and biscuits to the pilgrims at Lough Derg when I was six!”
But it was in another line of business that the penny dropped about art. A Charles McAuley painting came up for auction and sold for £12,000. The young auctioneer, Oliver Gormley, talked to the lady who was selling, she told him she was delighted with the result as she’d payed £50 some 30 years before. He then talked to the buyer who told him he was delighted with what he considered a bargain. It was the gap between that made Oliver think and he came home to talk with his wife Noirin who had studied art then turned to her books to learn more, soon he established a gallery in Omagh his home town. Soon he ventured to Belfast at the request of artist Anne Marie McCaughey who was moving to America and asked him to hold a final exhibition in her Yellow House on the Ravenhill Road.
Oliver Gormley has never been one to turn down a challenge or to do things by half. He’s a showman who has the patter and a solid knowledge of selling and he’s excited about introducing people to art as I discovered when me invited me to open the Yellow House exhibition probably 35 years ago. It was a gala event the great and the good were in attendance. I was nervous I wanted to say the right thing, perhaps Oliver sensed that tension, this he dispelled with this introduction which brought the house down and me dissolving in a fit of the giggles.
“Ladies and gentlemen I am delight that our guest has agreed to open this exhibition. Please give a big welcome to Ann Summers.”
A Wide Extended Family
It hasn’t been easy for Oliver Gormley. The downside of the financial depression of the mid 20s were devastating and before that, his reliance on alcohol made for dark years. Both are behind him now. “My wife tells me I changed from an alcoholic to an artoholic!”
This is a man driven by adrenaline and a desire to succeed. His artists are his family, he nurtures them, understands they are vulnerable. “They are putting down their feelings for the public to scrutinise so I like to encourage them to find their own styles and watch them develop. On occasions I’ve sat in galleries and looked at paintings and been critical, then after ten minutes or so I begin to see images and messages, I’ll never forget the day a particular Jack B Yates suddenly made sense, it spoke to me. We are taught how to read,” he said, “but we are not taught how to see and that’s an important lesson. During the Culloden exhibition people asked me what is my favourite painting. Honestly, I don’t have one, these artists are my family, I have everything I want, I’m happy. My two sons James and Gerard and my daughter-in-law Lana are in the business now and I want them to enjoy the challenges.”
And what now for Oliver?
“I continue to ask myself how could I have done this exhibition better and then I will start to plan the next one which will be in Dublin in two years time.”
And that will be worth the visit.
More about Gormleys Fine Art galleries in Belfast and Dublin at www.gormleys.ie