FURTHERMORE
By Gerry Moran
Monday 4.20pm. I have just received a text: RIP. Davy Holohan. I can’t believe it. I am shocked. I am doubly shocked as Davy’s brother Ned is being buried this coming Wednesday. My thoughts are immediately with all the family at this sad time.
I met Davy [pictured]on the town a few weeks ago – I often met Davy on the town, more often than not with a painting under his arm. No painting this time but he reminded me of an upcoming retrospective exhibition of his in the Mayfair Library in March.
“Will you be there, Gerry?”
“Need you ask?”
As it happened I launched an exhibition of Davy’s at last year’s Arts Festival. I opened that launch with an anecdote about a little old lady at a major exhibition of abstract art in the Tate Gallery, London. Staring at a painting she is totally perplexed and turns to the gentleman beside her: “Darling, could you explain this turbulent, swirling mass of paint to me?”
“Madam,” he replied, “as it happens I am the artist and I simply paint what I feel inside.”
“Oh, dear,” says the little old lady, “have you never heard of Alka-Seltzer?”
I went on to say that Alka-Seltzer never features when it comes to Davy Holohan’s work. What you see is what you get – beautiful, uncomplicated, delicate drawings and watercolours of people and places. Especially people.
Following are the rest of my words at last August’s launch:
“We are all familiar with Davy’s signature portraits in which he captures the heart and soul, and sometimes suffering, and angst, of his sitters, just as he captures his own suffering and pain in his self-portraits. And it’s that pain that allows Davy Holohan to fully empathise with his sitters. But tonight we’re parking the suffering, the anguish and pain that Davy has endured throughout his life. Tonight we’re in a celebratory mood, tonight we’re celebrating Davy’s personal and artistic journey of over 50 years – half a century! and still going strong. Let’s hear it for Davy, Daithí, Holohan.
“Davy, as far as I’m concerned, is a true artist with a capital T. Davy has suffered for his art, loves his art, lives for his art. Art is not part of Davy’s life – it is his life. Someone who is also a part, a huge part, of Davy’s life is his daughter Shauna who Davy, quite simply, adores. As it happens Shauna is getting married soon – to a David, something which brings great joy to Davy knowing that Shauna will now have two Davids in her life.
“Davy, David, I congratulate you and shake your hand on that upcoming joyous occasion. Now most of us here have shaken hands with Davy Holohan – and you will know that he has one of the firmest, strongest handshakes known to man, a handshake so strong that I often thought I’d need physiotherapy after it. What intrigues me, however, is how that powerful hand creates, especially in Davy’s fine-line drawings, a delicacy, a strength that transcends the strength of the hand that created it.
“Davy, Daithi, Holohan, good friend, who I have known for over half a century now – I love your art – and I have the drawings, and paintings, to prove it. I love your craftsmanship, your dedication, your marvellous talent. And I have no doubt, Davy, that in time to come when someone writes the history of art and artists in Kilkenny your name will feature prominently.”
Little did I think that Davy’s Arts Festival exhibition would be his last. But perhaps not. I’d like to think, and sincerely hope, that his retrospective exhibition in the Mayfair Library will go ahead – a fitting tribute, and testimony, to Davy, Daithí Holohan, a true and talented artist.
I wish to extend my heartfelt condolences to the Holohan family (one of Kilkenny’s many talented families, art and music-wise) on Ned’s and Davy’s passing.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh an-anamacha.
