Pat Lawlee
Pat Looby of Fethard photographed Pat Lawlee`s painted cottage too and claims his elaborate decoration began with the painting of a radio. Although she had spoken to him she had no recollection of his name nor his cottage`s precise location. She told me it was close to Mitchelstown. The proprietor of the photography shop in Mitchelstown told me otherwise so I set out to cycle towards Mallow knowing now that the cottage was located at the side of the busy N73. Time ran out on me that day and I decided to camp in the knowledge that the morning sun would illuminate my subject more clearly. I arrived at Mountnagle around 09.00 on June 20 2001 finding a brightly painted cottage with signs of fresh paint. The intricately painted front door was open and from inside the barking of a dog could be heard. There was no front garden, only concrete. A rubber mat from a car indicated the threshold. As I approached a black, hippo-like dog came careering out, over-excited, harmless. It was followed by a shabbily attired man in his 60s. I told him the purpose of my visit and he said the cottage had been painted by his father. Given this man`s age I presumed the father to be deceased but when I asked who had given the outer wall and gatepost a recent lick of paint your man replied that his father had. So, the artist was alive. As I started to take photographs of the frontage from the other side of the hazardous road the father appeared at the doorstep, freshly risen from his bed and wearing a greasy, well-worn hat. He waved and called out a greeting. Here was a different stamp of a man altogether. Strong and hearty in appearance with a game twinkle in his pale blue eyes and an odour like that of mature cheese about his body. Here was Pat Lawlee senior, almost 90 years of age. The younger man, 65 years old, his son Pat junior, returned inside to make a brew of tea. He was followed by his father leaving me alone to resume my work. I was, however, soon called inside. A volcanic coal fire roared in the grate of a typical low-ceilinged, poorly-lit front room that was modestly furnished. Pat senior told me a fire, caused by a bottle of petrol exploding six years ago, had completely destroyed his elaborate interior paintwork that had covered walls and ceiling. As far as I could gather Pat`s creativity had begun inside the cottage when he retired from a life of very mixed employment - creamery labourer, dairy farmer, postman, council labourer, fireman on the railway and labourer in a sugarbeet factory. This internal paintwork had been ornate, depicting flowers and geometric designs, echoed outside. At this time the whole family including wife and 7 children lived there. His wife, along with neighbours, thought he was light in the head to be doing all this painting. Pat paid no heed and as well as painting, collected bits of cars, mirrors, hubcaps, bumpers, all assembled and tacked onto the front of his adjoining garage. Apparently, today`s decoration is a mere shadow of what had once adorned the cottage. Pat admits that sadly he no longer has the creative energy to paint as vigorously but still retouches bits. The chimney, for example, was last painted ten years ago. Pat saw his creativity as a pastime to give him an interest in retirement. He was happy to spend his pension on paint and drink. Guinness, he claimed, was the best doctor. He had cycled everywhere and had led a very active life. The deeply tanned skin of his forearms resembled leather, his hands were those of a man who had toiled for his daily crust. Pat Lawlee senior was born in Bruree, Co Limerick, and has lived in this cottage for 64 years. His mother was born here. He retired in 1969 and had done his painting over the course of 30 years buying whatever colours caught his eye, either emulsion or gloss, it didn`t matter. Pat`s wife had hated his painting and had been invalided with Parkinson`s disease. Again, I was more than aware of arriving too late to witness the full glory of a man`s expression but just in time to record it before he dies. Pat’s cottage was photographed in its heyday by Liam Blake whose images were published in a book, Real Ireland. Revisit to Pat Lawlee 23rd July 2002 I arrived at Pat Lawlee's painted cottage at 12.20 feeling quite exhausted by the effort of cycling against wind and time. I found no visible change to neither man nor house although the untouched paintwork is deteriorating as the place slips sadly into decline. Pat remembered me and claimed that Susie, his overweight, hyperactive black mongrel bitch did too. He spoke about receiving the photographic portrait I had sent him after my first visit but someone in the family had stolen it. He set down tea with bread and fried sausages on the table beside me informally, generously. He is now living alone, his son having left to live in sheltered housing as an old-age pensioner in Mallow. Pat prefers to be on his own with Susie. The cottage continues to attract lots of visitors from all over the world. He is still sharp and witty, his eyes twinkling with life as he proudly told me he was 90 years of age on 31st May this year, the anniversary being marked by a big family occasion. Pat left school at the age of nine-and-a-half to work on the land as an agricultural labourer for a few pounds a year. He was married for 64 years, he told me, his wife dying of Parkinson's disease. He had two brothers and a sister who are now dead but he remains robust, healthy and active. Although he shows little interest in maintaining the paintwork he had been cutting down fir trees beside the cottage with a cross-cut saw, working on a ladder on his own. He had fallen off the ladder badly bruising his shin, a painful-looking wound that had not healed properly. He had not visited the doctor but treated the abrasion himself with liquid paraffin to kill any infection, and alcohol which I presume he swallowed. He went onto speak about his time labouring on a squad, employed by the sugarbeet factory, travelling the country thinning sugarbeet. This contract work paid £6 per acre. The whole squad was housed and fed by the farmers they worked for. Boastfully he told me he would cycle a hundred miles on his day off. He never missed a day's work due to sickness or a hangover and is proud of his continuing health. Pat started to paint the cottage when he was 67 years of age but no one in the family places any importance in the decoration. No one will maintain it and Pat says it will be whitewashed over when he dies. He accepts this inevitability. Text and photographs by Peter Haining.