‘I see life through a picture frame’, says Limerick person of the month

IN years gone by if John Shinnors found himself in a situation he was uncomfortable with, he would utter the words, que será será, remind himself it is not going to last forever, that there is always something better around the corner.

And that’s the way life transpired for the Limerick artist who admits to being very poor at one stage, having so much money at another stage that he didn’t know what to do with it, before finding himself poor again and then comfortable.

Born in Limerick in 1950, John Shinnors was a student at CBS Sexton Street primary and secondary schools before studying drawing and painting at Limerick School of Art and Design (LSAD).

“All children draw,” points out the Limerick native who was reared on Merchant’s Quay. “Well, the vast majority of them and some children just draw a bit more than others.”

Wearing his trademark cream fisherman’s hat with matching blazer, the 68-year-old - whose hands have produced paintings which commanded up to €70,000 during the boom - sips coffee in the lobby of Limerick’s Clayton Hotel.

He’s just been presented with the Limerick Person of the Month award, “a very pleasing” honour for the man who was told as a boy he’d amount to nothing.

As a young child John Shinnors discovered that he was able to copy drawings “faithfully”.

“What I mean by that is,” he explains, “I was actually able to depict an image as it is. And I enjoyed doing it. Humans, by their nature, if they do something and they do it well they derive enjoyment out of it so it just evolved.”

Late last year John published the book, Adult Reading at Artist’s Bedtime - a stunning collection of illustrated stories from his sketchbooks.

His paintings often combine the figurative and abstract at once, the drawings and paintings in the sketchbooks are more figurative as they illustrate personal stories that are poignant, humorous and surreal.

Despite going on to become one of Ireland’s foremost artists, John’s parents were “totally indifferent” to his talent when he was growing up.

His father tore up some of his paintings in later life “because he thought they were obscene.”

John, in turn, threw away his father’s favourite pipe. “I’m vengeful by nature,” he jokes, “I threw it into the Shannon when I was walking over Sarsfield Bridge.”

His father thought that artists were “the people who dress up the windows in Todds - sort of effeminate men, or they were bloody mad, cutting off their ears”.

Did it hurt him that his father couldn’t recognise his talent?

“Absolutely not,” comes the quickfire response, “none whatsoever. I didn’t look up to my father for anything. I was, how would I put it, more conscious of my mother’s presence than my father’s.”

And did she recognise his talent?

“No, she was totally indifferent too.

“But you must remember I was the dunce of the family. My brothers and my sister were far more clever than I was. They used to call me Poor John when I was a kid because I would never amount to anything. I suppose they weren’t really indifferent as to what I did, just so long as I didn’t get chucked in jail.”

John was, in fact, very good at school. He went on to show his work in many solo and group exhibitions in Ireland and has been involved in supporting the visual arts in Ireland through the Shinnors Scholarship for an MA in Curatorial Studies in partnership with LIT, LSAD and Limerick City Gallery of Art and the Shinnors Drawing Award at LCGA.

A typical day for John begins at 2am when he goes to bed. He wakes at 11am and at around 4pm he becomes active “and I do a small bit”.

“Then I eat. I work in two studios. My best hours are between eight and half past ten at night. In the big studio in O’Connell Street, I work there on Thursdays or Tuesdays if I’m working on a large scale.”

He doesn’t draw every day “but I wouldn’t say I’d go weeks (without drawing)”.

When he goes away somewhere his paints travel with him. While working he has to have music playing - Rachmaninoff or Tchaikovsky, “anything big and heavy”.

“If you’re familiar with my pictures, most of them, they’re rather dark, dramatic, so I like that deep thud while I’m painting.”

From where does he draw inspiration?

“Aine,” he starts, “I see life through a picture frame. Right now, when I’m looking at you, there’s a frame around you. You can’t see it, but I do. I’m looking at you as a talking picture. For inspiration, for example, I was recently revisiting Loop Head lighthouse. That’s an inspirational place for me”.

Does he still charge hefty prices for his works?”

“Of course I do.”

He does admit however that since the boom went bust, he hasn’t sold paintings for tasty sums like €70,000.

Having lived in London for a time, John is very content residing in Limerick, a city he loves.

“You know the My Limerick column (in the Limerick Leader’s free sister paper The Leader), well if I read that once more I’m going to...the question, ‘what do you do on a Saturday morning?’ Everyone says I go to the Milk Market.” He sips some coffee.

“I’m a Limerick nationalist. I actually love the city. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. King John’s Castle means an awful lot to me. I was born and reared around there.

“The view outside there you would not find in many cities in Europe. I treasure that. I feel very privileged to live in Limerick.”

Anything that brings out the best of Limerick, he rejoices in it, be it art, rugby or hurling.

Limerick winning the All-Ireland he describes as “tremendous” even though it did cause the Wallers Well resident to endure the worst eight minutes of his life.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I don’t have much hair but.. I went out the back. I keep a longbow,” he says, motioning drawing back the bow string with his arms.

At he closes in on 70 years, John describes his health as excellent. If he’s not drawing, you’ll find the vociferous reader stuck in a book - everything and anything from PG Wodehouse to Dickens, or drinking porter.

“I find it’s very important to me, drink,” he explains. “For the simple reason, when I drink a pint of stout, I don’t drink it for the love of it, it tastes fecking awful. What I find is, and the writer Colin Dexter was exactly the same, he said in one of his Morse works, when Morse was asked, ‘Well, why do you drink?’ Morse said, ‘I drink to think’.”

John can sit at a bar for hours with a notebook in his pocket. “For example, I had a problem with a composition for a painting I’m working on for LIT, a portrait, and after a few drinks, it widened the thought process, and that was the answer and I jotted it down straight away as to how to approach the portrait, and that was drink- induced.”

As the interview draws to a conclusion, a man who had been sitting close by in the hotel lobby, throughout the interview, approaches.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard...are you John Shinnors, the artist?”

“I am!”

“Well I’m the owner of The Baby!”

The Baby, oil on board, signed and dated 1980 in an original frame was acquired in 2006 by Galway businessman Declan Dooley. It was at a time when John’s paintings were fetching €60,000 to €70,000.

The artist and owner pose for a photo together before talking art.

“It’s an incredibly interesting and highly thought-provoking piece that intrigues,” says Declan. “It challenges the viewer and never fails to stimulate conversation”.

Indeed, much like the artist himself.