Finding Home in Dreams: My First Cork Exhibition. I finally did it. I exhibited outside Dublin for the first time. The venue? The Market Gallery in Douglas, Cork. The theme? “Voice of Dreams.” And honestly, it felt like coming home.
Why? Because I paint dreams. Oneiric landscapes fill my canvas. They always have. So when the call came for this exhibition, I couldn’t say no. This theme sits deep in my chest. It’s personal. It’s mine.
So I showed up. But I didn’t just show up with my art. I showed up with my whole self.
First, I matched my hair to one of my paintings. Bright colors. Bold choices. And then,just for fun, I added a ship. Why not? Dreams should carry a little whimsy.
Whimsical
The gallery buzzed with energy. I loved every second. I sold two pieces: “Taisearch to the Inner World” and “Threshold of Becoming.” Watching them go felt surreal. Like sending pieces of my soul into new homes.
Between conversations, I caught a quick chat with another artist. We leaned against the wall. We laughed. Then we got real.
Maybe we seek the surreal because reality is just too heavy.
She nodded. I nodded back. Life feels short, doesn’t it? We agreed completely. Dreams aren’t escape. They’re survival.
Here’s the truth: this is how I paint. I create the art I needed when I was younger. Back then, dreams were my only escape. A heavy reality pressed down on me. Okay, fine, it was a dissociative disorder. But still. Painting now feels like stitching together memories I never had.
What’s more, my outfit told its own story. My corset held five frames. Each frame represented an exhibition I’d already done. My skirt? Empty frames. All for the future shows. Every stitch meant something. Every detail mattered.
I stood there, hair bright, skirt full of promise, and thought: this is my moment.
Equally important, I realized something. Art isn’t just what hangs on walls. It’s what you wear, what you carry, the conversations you have between paintings. It’s the ship you add to your hair just because.
Voice of Dreams
Besides, connecting with another artist who gets it? That’s rare. That’s gold. We spoke the same language. The language of dreams. The language of making beauty from hard things.
Finally, here’s what I know now. My first Cork exhibition wasn’t just about selling paintings. It was about standing in a room full of dreamers and saying, me too, about honoring the girl who once needed art to survive.
Life’s short. We need dreams. I paint them because I believe that. And after Saturday? I think maybe everyone else does too.
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Happy inking! ?