Like most people, when I graduated from school I had decisions to make about my immediate future—decisions that involved the familiar tug-of-war between the head and the heart. You see, I loved art. It was the one thing that came naturally to me, the one subject where time disappeared and I felt entirely myself.
But, as every young dreamer is reminded sooner or later, passion doesn’t always guarantee a practical path. How many artists are out there making a comfortable living from their creations? Apart from the very rich but very dead ones, not too many. Following my heart into art college seemed like a road paved with inspiration, fun, and… long-term debt.
So I did what seemed sensible at the time: I put on my logical, grown-up hat and began looking for alternatives—options that would feed my creative side without landing me in financial quicksand.
What I didn’t realise then was that choosing a different path wouldn’t extinguish my love for making things. If anything, it would lie dormant, quietly gathering strength, waiting for the right moment to resurface.
Finding Creativity in Unexpected Places
Engineering—yes, engineering—became the path I chose. It wasn’t art college, but it had something that appealed to me: problem-solving, structure, design, and the challenge of making things work. It wasn’t the same as drawing or sculpting, but there was creativity hidden in the logic, a certain artistry in turning ideas into functioning reality.
Over the years, that training sharpened my eye, strengthened my hands, and shaped the way I approach craft today. It gave me tools I didn’t know I’d need, and a way of seeing the world that blends intuition with precision.
Returning to the Heart
But creativity has a way of circling back. Mine returned through wood—Irish wood, ancient wood, pieces with stories older than any of us. Working with materials like bog oak reconnected me not only with my artistic roots, but with my cultural ones as well. Craft became a meeting point between my past and present: the artist I almost became, and the maker I grew into.
In many ways, every lamp I shape, every piece of jewellery I polish, every bowl I turn is a quiet reconciliation between the head and the heart.
And now, as I increasingly incorporate elements like Ogham, symbolism, and natural Irish materials into my work, I realise I haven’t strayed from the path I wanted after all—I’ve simply taken the scenic route.
