My dear blog serves as an archive for my work.Please go to my instagram page for up to date images.

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I am an artist living and working in the West of Ireland. I make drawings,clothes,ZINES and artists books,short films and beloved objects. I have a stall at the Saturday Galway Market (from early february approx through till the last saturday before christmas) ...... if you would like to contact me further please email queenjaneosullivan (at)gmail(dot)com Thanks for visiting !

Thursday, June 13, 2013

I love how the white thorn is changing magically into pinkthorn RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY EYES !!!!

 found amongst discarded grave decorations (porcelain circa 1940's)
my special talismann and current favourite dress 

last years book 
the only truth is love edition 8 2012

I will be attending next sunday 23rd june , cannot wait. I love the eclectic bunch of folks who exhibit together , from radical politics to comic book artists, punk d.i.y scene, independent artist book publishers (me) and brilliant music and home made food.
this years independents day
 outside my back door
a bit of my market stall in the glorious saturday Galway sunshine

daniel johnston true love will find you in the end


cloudgathererholdmedown said...

gorgeous glimpses.


The Stars. Blue. Expanse.

Flaming song of stars!

A million nightingales are singing.

Springtide light is flashing.

Myriads of eyelashes are flaring up in quivers.

The green happiness of spring-night banquets

Commences its own rutting shine.

Balmy showers take their magic turn:

Millions of nightingales are singing.

Do i recognize a friendly ghost?

I will earnestly contend for it.

The sign wants to be carved into perceiving:

Who knows when my dream-life will be blazing?

Ghosts resemble our gentle animals,

They are fast to sense the nature of attraction.

They heave and hover and weave about

And keep us very gingerly under their spell.

I do not want to lose this light-swarming silence.

An old theurgy must stir here soon from gentleness.

Millions of nightingales are singing.

Kindred voices are urging us through the night.

It seems a moon is smoldering arcanely.

But the night she is too warm, so full of breathing pleasure!

Myriads of sparks fly as if in rut to seek each other.

They whirr back and forth and yet still as a part of spring.

The ghost of spring, the ghost of spring is prowling in the wood-lot!

The broad-leaved forest can wander and anticipate itself,

it sways and waltzes to all the old ways of transformation;

The night is laughing: Big Dipper's daring, Libra is keeping watch.

Here are flashing myriads of dance-besotted queries -

Millions of nightingales are singing.

~ From Theodor Däubler's DAS STERNENKIND

Jane O Sullivan said...

hello ms cloud gatherer,
well thank you very much for this beautiful surprise I found here this morning , you would never in a million years (actually I think you would) know what it meant at this particular time x

good luck with your own heavenly writing.

alvaro barcala said...

so beautiful!

Jane O Sullivan said...

hello Alvaro , thank you.
Gosh , what wonderful work you make , really enjoyed looking at it . Jane