Greag Mac a’ tSaoir
@greagmacatsaoir
Irish artist, member of Artists Against Genocide. and ArtCan. MDANT.
Those cabbage white caterpillars can’t get enough cabbage. Savages. They would put Brendan Shine to shame.
So the BBC has decided to pretend that the Scottish Greens don’t exist
Susan Atkinson, Patricia Krenwinkel and Linda Kasabian could have been any trio of carefree valley girls but when they stumbled into the Tate house their lives changed forever. . .
‘These are my mountains’. Oil on panel. 40cm sq. DM me if you’re interested in owning this.
Pencil drawing of the Water of Leith in Edinburgh. Easy to forget to make art in the face of the systematic eradication of Palestine so while this might look anodyne and apolitical it’s shot through with rage at US and European enabling of the zionist project. Free Palestine
Scored my copy of the new @wednesdayerskin.bsky.social Do I have the self-restraint to wait until I finish my current read. NGL, probably not.
Show me a picture on your phone that has your energy that isn’t a selfie.
From the series ‘Attempts to Stop Death’. ‘Buried in the Suburbs 1-4’. Rubble, wax, found objects.
Painted these two horses in a field at the foot of Sliabh Breac because life is grim right now and horses are good for the soul. DM me if you want to raise your spirits for £100 incl Irish/UK postage.
The vast majority of my landscape painting is based on locations within a mile of my front door. This is no exception. ‘Bog Road’, oil on panel, 30 x 30cm.
Up in Belfast to counter protest against a tawdry rent a crowd of fascists. Thankfully we greatly outnumbered and out-sang them. Ironic that it all took place under the frigid gaze of the mother of Empire.
‘Domestic’ a work I made in 2022 as part of the ‘It Only Hurts iF You Look At It’ show, looking glamorous in the late afternoon sun.
Stitch nearly taking the eyes out of kids with flying bags of haribo is something I’m looking forward to seeing arrive in the official Disney multiverse
First decent slap of sunlight hit South Armagh towards the end of February. It’s wild how the sun transforms the dull grey-greens into a hotbed of sultry pinks and peachy oranges. The first landscape of the year is of a drainage ditch in heavy late afternoon shadow.
At today’s protest outside the US consulate in leafy south Belfast where the speakers not only castigated the orange menace for his promotion of the ethnic cleansing of Gaza but also drew attention to his increasingly unhinged pronouncements about Ukraine.
I know for certain there is no such thing as a ghost because Janey Godley would be haunting that orange gobshite’s ass if she could.
These are the Sins of Belfast, put beyond use by fire and encased in wax, the tangible result of my installation The Sin Eater which asks visitors to write an account of something of which they are ashamed and to cast it as a secret ballot which I subsequently destroy, freeing them from their shame.
I was a teenage punk rocker. Also a teenage screenprinting apprentice. I was given this last night. I haven’t seen a copy of this poster for my teenage band Comfort Kills, which I made in Mournecraft as a first year trainee, in over 43 years. You can almost smell the teenage edgelord off it.
This is a work from the start of lockdown. I was self isolating in a derelict house (long story) and had no access to art materials so I started stripping hazel rods to form energy channels. Posting this because this is a theme I’m currently revisiting.
‘The Opposite of Pain’, pencil on paper, fat, copper, embroidery, pins 2025. First finished work (with the exception of a very uncharacteristic painting) of the year.