I was born in 1975 in Co. Kildare, Ireland. My earliest spark for painting came from a woman I considered my true mother—she painted, kept books on art, and opened windows into worlds that fascinated me. At home, however, I grew up in a working-class family where books and art were dismissed, even ridiculed. The family mantra was clear: “I didn’t need a fucking education, so why should you?”
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At seven, after moving to Navan, Co. Meath, I began drawing portraits of the woman I called my mother and her son—my brother. I never saw them again. I hid those portraits beneath the floorboards of my bedroom, where they became secret companions to the sadness that has followed me ever since.
At ten, I won first prize at school for a drawing: a pencil case filled with shiny pencils, rubbers, a ruler, and scissors. My birth mother accused me of stealing it and demanded I return it. That evening, I buried the pencil case under a tree, digging it up now and then to remind myself that my talent was real, even if unrecognized.
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In 1995, I began an apprenticeship as a plumber, following the family trade. I hated every moment of it. By 25, I had saved enough to study on my own in Florence for a year. I would have gone to art school, but I didn’t know how to apply. Returning to Dublin in 2002, I created my first art project: painting a Black trans woman in a red ballroom dress in St. Stephen’s Green. For me, if a trans person could be accepted, perhaps I could be too.
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In 2006, I staged Suicide is Sexy, one of the most controversial art performances in Irish history. Media outrage exploded; a psychologist even urged the Minister for Health to have it banned. Afterward, I turned to painting Irish celebrities.
Then came 2008. The financial crash hit, I went bankrupt, lost four apartments, and left Ireland penniless. By strange fortune, I ended up working as a plumber on an oil rig in Norway.
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Today, I work offshore for four months of the year to fund my art. It gives me the freedom to create only what matters to me, without compromise. With a family of my own now, I am no longer alone. I am free.