This painting, ‘Singing the Minstrel Boy’ by Jack. B Yeats has triggered my ongoing fascination with the stage. I have been fascinated with it since I was a child. My mother was a trained circus performer and I can remember very vividly my first theatre performance. Ever since then, the stage has been is a magical place for me. Everything on stage is born out of the darkness; daytime, nighttime, sounds, changing settings, action, still stand, smoke in the backlight, smells from the dusty curtain, a bang from a revolver, false hair, forgotten texts and the ghosts of the past that become visible.

The stage is an interesting subject for a painting. A framed fiction itself, the stage is framed once again by the painting, therefore it is an image contained within an image. Yeats’ depiction in this painting of that moment within a staged performance is uncanny. The uncanniness of the moment is echoed in the actresses pale face. Maybe the light conditions were not perfect, maybe the make up was over dramatic, and so she comes across as a ghost… the ghost of an actress that has to perform over and over again, caught in the moment and doomed to perform forever. At the same time the audience were also doomed to watch that performance over again and again, pretending to see it anew.

For me, what Yeats has captured in ‘Singing the Minstrel Boy’ is the essence of both those who perform and those who consume. In the scenario of this painting, we as viewers are also integrated into the image, with those who watch us, watching others watch.

“The Night” – An exhibition by Alexandra Hopf is on display at the Model until the 16. Apr. 2017

“Singing the Minstrel Boy”(1923) by Jack B. Yeats is currently featured in “Lives” a Model exhibition in The Niland Gallery. “Lives” will be on display until 01. Oct. 2017.

What really struck me about ‘Johnny Patterson singing Bridget Donoghue’ is that it is so far removed from the aesthetic of the rest of the exhibition, Painted Universe. The other paintings seem pretty conventional in comparison and when I saw this I was really thrilled. The desperate violence of the face reminded me of The Scream by Edvard Munch, but also of the photographic series of monstrous clowns by Cindy Sherman. It is a face falling apart in horror. Then you look at the title and see, ‘Johnny Patterson singing Red O’ Donohue’.

When you think of a singing clown, it sounds kind of nice you know. A clown is a kind of a children’s entertainer. But then you examine this painting and that concept completely flips. I found it fascinating how he treats the paint. I think that it ventures so far from his usual style, the way that he is using the brush and really going into the paint by stirring it. Also, you have to examine the way he uses colour. Particularly yellow, which is one of the brightest, sunniest colours that you can imagine. But here, Yeats’ is mixing it with all these dark colors until it becomes contaminated. Transforming it into a dirty yellow, that, in the context of this painting, is utterly sad. It shows a remarkable depth of despair.

When I was researching this painting, I came across a text by Roisin Kennedy on The Model’s website. The text stated that the painting was inspired by Yeats’ first memory of seeing the clown perform but he was also reflecting on the role of the artist, which made complete sense to me. The clown is standing before an audience, trying to entertain them and I think that is a great image. In that sense Yeats’ painting could be read as a distorted, absurd and ironic representation of exhibiting art and being an artist.

His work is understated but at the same time he’s using heavy pens and inks. It looks like it took five minutes but I know it didn’t. I remember that my grandmother had a couple of prints of his illustrations of the races in her house. I always liked them when I was a kid because they were so readable. I just love the look of the whole exhibition. I think that students of illustration, graphic designers and publishers should see it.

Look at the way the broadsides are presented, I really just want to dive in and read them. The book cover is just lovely, it just whispers to you, “Open me.”

What I see now more and more in illustration, and particularly graphic design is the concept that more is more. It doesn’t have to be like that. Sometimes, when you are designing for people, it’s very hard to convince them that less is more. There’s a lot of empty space you can use to draw attention to the illustration.

The huge posters in this exhibition really grab you. It really hits you when you walk in the gallery. A lot of people aren’t aware that Yeats earned a living as a commercial illustrator as well as a painter. He had a nifty sense of humor too. If you look very closely you can see that there’s a few gags in there. Very tiny ones mind you but they are still there. Here’s one in particular, the one with the kids at the door at Halloween, “The bang on the door boys.” It’s fantastic; the characters have so much personality. Look at the little feckers! It gives it that little bit of a kick, which you wouldn’t expect. It works very well.

Leaving the Far Point reminds me of Chagall, there’s something about Jack’s use of colour that strikes a resemblance of Chagall’s work for me. I also like the vague way that the figures in the image appear. It’s a real skill isn’t it? To use loose brush marks but still have such defined figures within it. A lot of our collection of Jack B. Yeats’ work has that feature. It’s a big contrast to his earlier works that were illustrative in style; the lines are very clear and deliberate. I believe this loose, undefined style suits the story behind the painting. Jack’s figure is clear. The figure that is extremely faded is his uncle, who died many years before. The central figure is his beloved Cotty, whose health was failing at the time and Leaving the Far Point was in fact a gift for Cotty’s last birthday in 1947.

As his uncle, George Pollexfen, died in 1910 long before Jack painted Leaving the Far Point in 1946, I think that this piece has an element of wishful thinking behind it. Maybe he never had an opportunity to walk on Rosses Point strand together with his favorite uncle and his beloved wife? Maybe he wished that they could all be together again, and maybe his wife was too unwell to venture out? I have read that they are the two people he loved most in his life.

I really like that he depicted his uncle too. I can imagine them walking on the beach while Jack was young. Maybe his uncle supported and influenced him to become a painter. We rarely get the time to celebrate those who inspire us enough. We look at someone who has done great things with their life and we usually hardly know anything at all about the people who helped them get there. Jack remembers his uncle and his wife, and that’s inspiring.

After Cotty died Jack decided to donate Leaving the Far Point to the people of Sligo. The painting meant so much to Jack and he gifted it to us. This was a catalyst for Nora Niland to take her vision forward and create a collection of art for Sligo. That draws me to the painting too, and I love The Niland Collection book, published by The Model, that tells the story of the collection of art owned by the people of Sligo.

Benbulbin is famous in Sligo and I love the style of the painting, especially the old windows. It’s the old windows of years ago and you can still find them in older houses. Those windows collected moss and fallen leaves, they were the kind of windows that were around when I was a child.

I like the colours, in the painting Benbulbin is blue but when you look at it today it’s green, when “Mountain window” was painted it was overcast. When the weather changes and you can see, Benbulbin becomes a different colour.
The mountain is almost red in the sunset. I like that Jack B. Yeats captured that change of colour. It’s the type of thing you would only appreciate if you were a local.

Under his left arm there is a glimpse of the ocean behind him and all around are thatched cottages. He’s standing on the road with a white sky behind him. He’s got an amazing red beard; He looks like Luke Kelly from the Dubliners. There is a great glint in his eye. He’s obviously pleased to be home, raising a toast to heaven.

I love the spirit of the clean lines that Jack uses here. He usually uses a lot of blurred lines, it seems to me he was a very fast painter. There’s something considered about this painting, he reaches something in it, that for me is almost perfection. He’s in time with the rest of his contemporaries in 1912.

It’s an earlier work of his, before he gets to the much looser freestyle we associate with Jack B Yeats. It’s probably one of his last tight paintings; it’s a bit like his cartoons. What I like is that there’s less anguish in it. It seems to be a happy man painting this. This painting captures something that I love.

Being a musician, I know what this guy feels. You go away from home for a long time and then you come back delighted to be home. It’s that happiness Jack has captured here.