The healing effects of teaching puppet-making

There is so much in my head that I like to share with you. Thoughts about healing, recovery, miraculous recovery, challenges, health, or not as the case may be, but somehow all roads lead to the beauty of sharing the art of making puppets.

... do I know you? ...
(Pascale De Coninck with puppet-head by Louise Clark)

Longing

I so long to be well enough to get up in the morning with ease, go to my studio, or to my desk and sculpt, sew, write, share, teach. Or to be out in the garden and get rid of the weeds- but leave anything which insects and birds might like to nibble on over the winter.

The other night after another trip to hospital -this time for a planned appointment, not an unplanned trip in an ambulance - I was too tired to have a good night sleep. One of peculiarities of M.E.(ME/CFS). There is a fine balance between being tired enough to go to sleep, and being too tired. Anyway. At some point I got up again to get something to drink, and I picked up my notebook. I wrote:  " ... All I have left in me are tears. I so want to just get on with my life.  A miraculous recovery overnight is VERY WELCOME. Whatever way it comes.  Thank you."

The intriguing roads to recovery

There has been so much in the news about ME lately, about very dodgy suggestions that recovery is possible, as long as you follow some weird science. Well, I am absolutely delighted if people find ways to beat illness, in whatever way, as long as people are not being exploited by quacks along the way.

I always felt that I would recover in my own time, in my own way. Through a positive mindset, understanding nature's wisdom, and be involved in creativity in all its ways. My mantra for years was "I write myself into wellbeing". And writing most definitely had a huge impact on learning to live well with illness.

I certainly have improved much from the early years, see Hatched- a creative Journey Through M.E. (1998-2006), but I am not as good as I was a decade ago. I am hopeful though, that my current adventures with all things puppet will eventually bring me closer to a level of wellbeing. Again. I am hopeful. And almost convinced.

The puppet-related adventures definitely bring me joy, and energy, 

which is not exactly a physical energy, but energy at a different level.

even the start of making feet are already showing the
different characters they are going to be

So, ... teaching puppet making in my studio

As you might know I have started to teach in my studio. One and half hours a week. Anne's Japanese Dancer (see link below under image) was the first puppet/doll. The second course with three students started almost two weeks ago. And what fun! And, I am getting better at setting my personal limits, and devising ways so my students can work further on their puppets in my studio, in their own time (or at home).

Sharing all I have learned about making puppets over that past 4 decades is enjoyable. But what intrigues me most of all is what puppet making does to the maker.  In my classes I am not overly concerned with the perfect face, but what character emerges from a block of clay. From the hands of the maker. From the inner thoughts of the maker. 

It is a truly wondrous journey.

Jackie O'Flynn working on her puppet-head

Teaching via post and cyberspace.

Greg Crowhurt's Johnny Toes-
 to be made as puppet

During a communication with Linda and Greg Crowhurst a seed was planted in my head to see how I can help Greg to bring his Johnny Toes character into puppet form. Some amazingly powerful moments have occurred. Of finding ways to teach Greg via email, photos, images, written instructions. To find ways to not expose Linda to the dangers of chemical smells of glue, or to sounds from skype conversations.
The experience the heartbreak of the limitations of living with severe ME put on just the person living with this, but also the carer. My heart goes out to them and to anyone living with the incredibly challenging circumstance.

The beauty of helping Greg to fulfill on his dream, is also how many others are getting involved. Offers of fabric for the clothing, and the weaving of the strap for his guitar.  To making suggestions to limit the challenges which undoubtedly will occur along the way.
I put a box together with all that is required to bring Johnny Toes into being. See a wonderfully excited Greg when the box of goodies arrived at his house. (see link below).

Teaching, and sharing, the art of puppet making, might not be my miraculous recovery, but it surely is bringing a different kind of energy into my life. A goosebumps kind of energy. 

Who knows where it will lead.

Anne stopped by to show us Mia's kimono

My own 'girls' are starting to take shape
and seem to be having a chat...

Further reading and links

• Follow Greg and Johnny Toes's adventures , including how others are getting involved, when The Box arrived
• Interested in doing a course, either in my studio or online/post? Please contact me
• The Dance of Puppetry and disability

Puppet Power

Yesterday I had a visit from a creative friend.

She brought her doll she has been working on for a number of years, in the hope I could guide her on the next step to bring it into being.

After lunch we made it into my studio.

view from my studio

I took up position on my 'home-made-recliner-window-seat' while Pascale sat at the work table. 

the window seat- made from an old shelf unit.

It was lovely just to BE in my studio and looking out at the birds in my garden.

And to just chat about creative ideas. Where to go from here.

I did not feel the need to do any work. I did not really have the energy.

What I DID do, was to take a new Pasta maker  (see below) out of the box, to see if it really would work to make thin sheets of clay for future projects.

It did!

And when I put the thin sheet of clay in the 'spagetty' part of the machine, it made this wonderful "hair", which I deposited onto a head I had made a few years ago.

Who knows, 'it' might be made into a puppet one day, now it is sporting a new hair-do.

Hair!
Playing with a pasta maker

The teaching of making puppets, and the healing aspect of this, is one of the things I would like to focus on in the near future. Preferable teaching in my studio (but open to other suggestions), so I have all materials at hand, I don't have to pack boxes, or think too far ahead in terms of what I need to bring.

This idea follows on from the "Life Outside the Box" Puppetry Project. An inclusive Art Project I facilitated with fellow members of the Irish Wheelchair Association. 

The project was much more than just having a bit of fun. It brought many of the makers out of their comfort zone, in a good way. We explored our personal boundaries and that of society. Through the puppets, we as people living with disabilities, became parts of society in an unexpected way. 

Our project explored boundaries imposed by society. And as a result, the end product- a set of puppets and a film, were seen by many: in exhibitions, at a disability film festival in Canada, in the local cinema, in many news paper articles, and on national television. See the film we made, and the project in more detail on this Puppet Blog. It brought a discussion about. Beautiful.

Also as a result of this project I have been invited to give a paper at the upcoming The Broken Puppet: A symposium on puppetry, disability and health. 

I hope to build on this puppet-power, by working with other groups of people.

Preferably in my studio- a group up to 4 people is maximum.

If interested- please let me know.

Or is you are reading this and would like to explore if I can teach in another location, and with a larger group of people, and can provide the necessary support, I gladly hear from you.

But for today, the limelight is on Pascale's doll in progress... who in a way solidified my thoughts on doing puppet workshops. Thank you!

Visiting doll 

surgery

Belly- Button!

... home again, and sitting much more upright
with more confidence and pride.

for illustration only, this is the
pasta maker I mention-
a brilliant tool for the studio

"One of the most beautiful dreams of my life"

"And then we stood on the wall, held hands, and flew in one of the most beautiful dreams of my life."
Cecile Gilchrest

Cecile Gilchrest at Dzogchen Beara

This is a story about Room 4 at the Dzogchen Beara Care Centre (Dechen Shying). A story of Into the Light. A story of friendship.

Into the Light found its format of a-book-in-a-box during my second stay at the Care Centre, room 4 and was inspired by the prayer flags. During the first stay I created three sculptures, which are still on display in the centre. Pages from Into the Light are displayed alongside them.

The following words are from Cecile Gilchrest, an American lady who made contact with me via email a month or so after the launch of my 'Into the Light' book at the Care Centre.:

"Very early in the morning I wrote a long letter to my dear friend who had accompanied me to Ireland and who stayed in the other quarters at the far end of Room 4. I  slipped it under her door to announce to her that the time for my long silence had begun and that it must last for the 8 days there at DZB. I knew she would understand, but still it was hard to write. I wrote that I had no real idea of what I hoped to accomplish but that I was going for “bedrock.
On the way back to my room I saw your book-box on the coffee table and took it with me to my room.

I had taken one or two of your cards from a hallway display by the three sculptures the night before and wrote the poems in my book.  One card that I remember was that one that explained the word “grave” as in serious or heavy.

It was raining hard that day and I’d not yet hung my prayer  flags on the bushes outside at the cliff’s edge in front of Room 4.  I did so in bare feet.  It was wet and a little chilly but I was “possessed” to get them hung before I could “dig for bedrock” whatever that meant.

At some point I opened “Into the Light”.
Ultimately it took me two days and about 6 hours at least to read through and ponder all of your words.  After just a few cards (back and front) I began to write to you, to myself, to my mother.  I don’t know if the cards began to feel like flags at that point or later.  I was enthralled by your work and its resonance within me.

Your thoughts released a knowing in me about the grief that I feel at having been diagnosed with an unusual cancer for which there is no known cure at this point: chemo and radiation failed by late 2014. I
I began, in the conservatory, to write my own feelings, many which echoed yours but in my voice. I began to write letters to myself with compassion and felt a sadness that my "good spirits" often mask for others and for myself.

It was Karin [care staff at centre] who, in a consult, listened to my story of the strong resonance with the author of 'Into the Light' and told me about you and showed me photos of the day when all the cards were hung like flags in the lobby of DZB.  How happy she was for us!

Once I knew this, I entered into conversations with you from my heart and even found us together in a dream about flying over the sea...right off the rampart where I hung the flags just outside the conservatory in a driving rain.  And then we stood on the wall, held hands, and flew in one of the most beautiful dreams of my life.

My last three full days at DB resulted in feelings of well being and self-knowledge as well as self-acceptance far greater than what I had/have experienced to date.

Karin was such a quiet blessing and her admiration and care for you were palpable and part of my own healing journey in and about the Care Center and enormously within the walls of Room 4.

Truly illness is alchemical."

Love and blessings.
Cecile




Footnote:
We are still in touch via email. A beautiful supportive friendship.
Room 4, has a special connection for us. I can feel Cecile's presence when I sit in the conservatory.
This is our story, which Cecile was glad to share with all of you.

Much love
Corina

Further reading and links

• first stay with images of the sculptures
• Into the Light book

postscript…

Cecile passed away in 2018. See this post on how we got to meet in person. https://corinaduyn.blogspot.com/2018/03/ceciles-story-will-live-on-through.html

Inside You There Are Worlds

Today a guest blog by Therese Doherty

Through cyberspace I came across the work and writing by Therese Doherty. Our thoughts and experiences and views of the world: the world of illness, creativity, nature and writing are following in a similar path. Although worlds apart geographically. South East Ireland for me and the Blue Mountains north West of Sydney for Therese. 

Enjoy these wonderful wise words.

Inside You There Are Worlds 

The flight of the imagination. The inner landscapes which have no limit. The seasons of life.

These things are liberating, wonder-inducing, life-enhancing.

It took me a long time to make these discoveries, however. Living with CFS from a young age disturbed my development, such that I have been embarrassingly slow to learn many things. Illness clouded my mind and made me withdraw from life—a necessity, perhaps, until I was ready to re-emerge.

But, what I have found is that it is never too late to begin again. At any time you can start to rewrite your life story, and change the details, so that you come back out into the light, the heroine or hero of your own tale, rather than remaining in the shadows.

The most powerful way to rewrite your life story is, literally, to write it. Ask yourself: Who were you before you got sick? Who did you become afterwards, willingly or otherwise? Who would you prefer to be now? Write it down, draw pictures, record your voice—make a document that is part-memory, part-dream.

I wrote my life story, and it changed me. It helped me to make sense of many things, and it was as though I grew up, put away bad habits and negative beliefs, and got closer to who I am meant to be.  I began to understand myself better, which has made me kinder and gentler with myself. This is not a cure, by any means, but it is a necessary step on the way to healing.

Writing can be therapeutic. You can rant and rave as much as you like, and because it is private, no one will ever know. But at least your angers and frustrations and negativities are out on the page or computer screen, instead of festering inside you. This is step one.

Step two is to take things further, to turn negative thoughts around. This requires believing in the power of words. So, if you find yourself writing (or even thinking) about being weak or hopeless, or any of the other thoughts and feelings that can come to us when we are not feeling well, then start to reverse them. You are not weak, you are strong. You are not hopeless, you are full of possibility. Write them in the present tense: ‘I am strong’ (rather than ‘I will be strong’). Try it. You might be surprised just how much effect writing, or saying, such things can have on how you feel.

Step three is just to keep going. Keep writing. It will help. Just give it time. If you keep up with it long enough you may find you get to the point where stories emerge, or poems; at the very least, you will come across solutions to problems, or wise insights that bring you to a better understanding of yourself and the world. This is when you will learn, as I did, that there are worlds inside you.

I mean this. I really do.

Scientists now say that our bodies, like everything else on earth, contain atoms from the beginning of time and the origins of our universe. The elements that form our physical makeup are the same ones that constitute the earth as a living body—seawater and volcanic ash, circulating air and the spark of life that is fire—and they rank among the most powerful agents for healing … (Kat Duff, The Alchemy of Illness, 1993, p. 25)

Our bodies and minds—which are not separate entities, but intertwined—contain their own landscapes, ecologies, seasons and wild creatures—and their own wisdom, often unbeknownst to us. We are as old as the universe. We are part tree, part mountain, part cloud, part bird, part star—and all of these elemental parts can help to heal us.

To discover this is truly liberating. For when I am not well, and unable to spend as much time outside as I would like, to connect with the more-than-human world, I can at least journey inwards to connect with the places and beings within. My inner worlds are nothing less than an extension of the outer world. That we are made of the same stuff as the rest of the universe, those same ancient atoms, should make the connection obvious. We are all seperate threads woven into the universe’s tapestry, connected to everything else, and by recognising this it is possible to tap into new sources of inspiration, creativity and wisdom. It is all right inside us.

We can learn to fly on the wings of the imagination. We can go exploring. We can learn to better understand our own inner seasons and rhythms, and then make the most of them in the outer world.

All of this can come from writing, from the power and magic of words. And so it is never too late to begin. Find a notebook, put some loose paper in a folder, or open a new document on your computer. Label the top of the page with today’s date, and write.

Keep writing.

Just remember: Everything you need is already inside you.

Therese Doherty

links and further reading

• Artworks by Therese Doherty
• Therese's Blog Offerings from the Wellspring
• Another Writing story on this blog
• Post with also had quote by Kat Duff

Stillness, the Saint of Illness

During illness I have gained a love,
curiosity and a respect for words.
For the structure of words.

Hearing the word 

Stillness

Writing it down 
I saw

St - illness

Can it be that 

Stillness

is the 

Saint

of 

illness

I leave you with that for the day.

Wishing you well.

Corina


links:
Words from Into the Light- available from the Web Shop

Re-emerging into the light armed with the wisdom of the earth

Yesterday I meant to write about re-emerging but ended up talking about grieve. Grieving is something, I believe, we have to do in order to be able to move on. To re-emerge into the light of life.  I took the day to just be. To be with my thoughts. To potter in the garden for a few minutes. And be mindful of my feelings of loss, in all its ways.

Today I woke up feeling much more calm again. Ready to be in the world. And was blessed to have a visit from three lovely people this morning.

I'd like to thank all of you who read and commented with such affection and understanding on my writing. My thoughts are with you.

Emerging. Sculpture. 11x12x19cm 
© Corina Duyn 2014

Over the past few days, a few of my readers shared their thoughts on the 'Emerging' sculpture (see image), and the quote "Re-emerging into the light armed with the wisdom of the earth."

It resonated with them: 

"This new year, in typically contradictory M.E fashion, I feel more physically ill but more accepting of my illness. I have felt lost and trapped for a long time and wondered where "I" was. I know that this acceptance will wax and wane but for now it is peaceful and  feels like a re-emergence of me."

Di Kirk

The story of this sculpture:

Since 2012 my health had been deteriorating after years of slow progress. From early 2014, I had to acknowledge that this was not a temporary set back.  I could not imagine, or accept going back to needing daily support again. To be even more dependent on mobility aids, to have to re-arrange the house to suit wheelchair use. To having to accept help in so many different ways.

Going through all these challenges during the early years of illness is tough enough. But in those early days there is always the hope that it will all get better. That needing help is temporary. That recovery is in sight.

Having to go through this journey again, was unthinkable...

But I had to.

Sinking. Sculpture, 15x19x11cm. © Corina Duyn 2014 

I remember lying in the bath and thinking how I was stuck in a hard place. Like being embedded in a rock. Not water.

I needed to open my bag of tricks I used to come out of this state years ago. I had to revisit my ways I knew would support me in my struggles: Writing. Creating. Being in a quiet location.

I booked myself in at the Dechen Shying Care Centre at Dzogchen Beara where I felt supported, cared for, and understood. Also I was told by staff and fellow guests that I really, really needed to ask and accept support in order to live well and to be able to continue with my creative work- and sharing this with others... 

I listened.

And reached out.

Reaching Out. Sculpture, 10x10x11cm. © Corina Duyn 2014 

I asked for help.

It was not easy emotionally. And practically, well, the wheels of bureaucracy are slow, and grinding and come to many stops... I wrote an article for Journal.ie about this.

Over time I did get support. And accepted support. And I did emerge from this challenging place.

My book Into the Light in the format of a box with loose sheets with reflections on life, was created as a result of this challenge. I truly believe that.

If we dare to go deep inside the darkness, and reach out when we are ready to do this, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Not always what we hoped to find there, but it can be a peaceful place.

At least for a while...

Be well my friends, and thank you for joining me on this journey.

Corina

Notes and links:

• These three sculptures were made during my first stay at Dechen Shying Care Centre at Dzogchen Beara. 
• My Into the Light book, the format very much inspired by this place was launched there by Michael Harding in September 2015
• These images are also in my Into the Light book and is available from my Web Shop
• Reaching out and Emerging are also available as PRINTS
• Journal.ie article: Opinion: Being ill is hard – having to fight for every basic human right is much, much harder, by Corina Duyn

It is essential to give yourself time to grieve

Today I was gong to write about acceptance and re-emerging from a dark place into the light. This thought was prompted by a (message) conversation I had with one of my readers.
But as I woke up with a heavy heart, I decided to write about what comes before re-emerging ... giving yourself time to grieve.

I woke this morning with a heavy heart.
Observing the pain, I felt that the base of it is the heart-ache of missing my beloved cat Robert who passed away a week ago.

Grieving: 

Feeling intense sorrow

from Latin gravare, gravis

Heavy, Grave*

Robert and I had such a routine build up.
In the morning he would lie on the right side of my bed to "hunt" for my toes. Always the right, never the left. Then he'd lie on his back, his head cuddled up to my chest. When I sit up on the bed and he'd circle around me, always anti-clockwise. Giving me 'kissses' when he come to the front of me. Little head-butts and a lick on my forehead or cheek. Three or four times, as if he was building a protective wall around me for the day.

As soon as I have one toe on the floor, his priorities changed from loving to needing... FOOD!!!

Every day during the past week, I see, feel, and hear his presence, and yet he is not here.
Receiving a package in the post yesterday, I was left with an empty box and no cat to climb into it. An empty yoghurt tub which has to be rinsed out, in stead of licked clean. I open the front door, but he is not on the doormat. In stead I see his grave.  (grieving- grave).

It breaks my heart that his life came to an abrupt end. And yet, I somehow knew that is was coming. Although he was not seriously ill, I felt that he was not himself either. The last few nights I'd have a chat with Robert and said that if he had to pass on, it is ok. I am ok. And thanked him for all the years we have spend together. He was diagnosed with diabetes on the day he died, but died probably of heart attack. It was heart breaking to watch his last struggles for breath. The Vet kindly came over to help him go to his eternal sleep.
I am grateful I was connected with Robert to make the call to have him at home, on his drip, and not have him alone - lonely at the Vet's - a place that would bring him fear.

I realize that I am good at putting things in perspective. To deal with what I have to deal with. To not get overwhelmed with emotions. To stay strong. But then the  - Grieve - Feeling intense sorrow - hit me this morning.

While writing these last few words, I could barely swallow the lump in my throat. And the tears are flowing.  The voice-recognition software does not recognize my voice when upset... so have to write with my fingers...

I know that lump is not just about Robert. It is about the challenges that illness, and life in general brings too.

At times 

illness makes 

you feel cheated 

out of life *

Grieving how meetings with friends are often dictated by my body's demands. Grieving about being a lot of the time on my own. The missing of taking part in society the way I would like to. Yet, I know I am quite content to follow my own simple routine in my beautiful and peaceful surroundings.
Sorrow that I am not able to be as a good a friend to my friends as they are to me. I give them time and a listening ear, but can't do much in practical terms. Grieving about people lost in my life, and those who are very ill and I can't be with. 
Reading my own words from Into the Light, I know that

It is

essential 

to allow yourself

 to grieve* 

I know that my sorrow will pass.
I know.
I have been there before.
It just hit me right in my heart this morning.

For now I will go underground, and soon I will write about how I do emerge back into the light again, armed with the wisdom from the earth.

Leaving you with a few words of wisdom from the amazing Peter Cornish from Dzogchen Beara:

Desire is the weather that stirs up this climate of pain.

It’s the wind on which we sail our ship into the ocean of sorrow.

Peter Cornish - Dazzled by Daylight *

* All quotes from a page of Into the Light  available from my WEB SHOP

Be Well my friends,

and Thank You for joining me on my journey.

It is all about boxes- and stepping out of them

It is all about boxes these days.

Or maybe it has been about boxes for a very long time?

On the 29^th February, I did my very first lecture at UCC by invitation of the Folklore Department. The title of the talk was 'BOXED OUT:  Art and Disability - A Folklore and Gender perspective.'

It was an interesting experience, on many levels.

At the start of my Into the Light project over 3 years ago, I had said that one of the things I wanted to achieve was to give lectures at University (I felt that there was an element of the lived experience of disability missing from Disability Studies). But when I was this notion looked like it could become a reality a few months ago, it was scary prospect to have to stand (sit) in front of a group of students…

There were many thoughts how I wanted to approach this talk. The main topics: Arts, disability, and boxes. In this case seen from a Folklore perspective.

While preparing for the lecture, what surprised me most was how my creative journey of the past 25 years all brought me to this very day.

My initial art created in Ireland all had to do with folklore; the fairy stories surrounding Dromana house where I lived influenced my Fantasy Folk Artist Dolls. But also the characters that I observed in the pubs or in the countryside made their way into my art. I responded creatively to the Irish folklore that surrounded me.

Fantasy Folk © Corina Duyn

Fantasy Folk © Corina Duyn

 Becoming ill turned my art into the story of illness and disability. It changed into an inner folklore.

To my utter surprise, when I was looking for images of the early drawings, which many were of eggs, I came across the very first ‘visual thought’ - a drawing of a box…

… And I thought that the boxes only came into my art in the last two-years or so…

So, 17 years later, I'm giving a talk about ‘boxes’.  How society will try to put you in a box, and how to step out of them.

In the summer of 2014, when I came up with the idea to make the Into the Light book-in-a-box, I also was working on a sculpture called Stepping out of the Box. The connection between these two creative projects only became clear to me months later… As is usually is the case, somebody else probably pointed this out to me!

Stepping out of the Box © Corina Duyn 2014

In the summer of 2015 I started facilitating the Puppet Project with my fellow members of the Irish Wheelchair Association (IWA). We were to create a series of puppets, make a set, write a script and create a short film. During the first session I brought the little box sculpture with me and suggested, maybe we can make a large version if this and it would allow for each puppet to be created as an individual, and each one can ‘leave the box and step out into the world’. The reactions were amazing. All sort of ideas were floating through the room. Butterfly, a dancer, a biker, a musician,…

Little did I know how powerful an adventure it would become? We didn’t just create puppets. We re-created ourselves in a way. We all stepped – proudly- out of the box.

Life Outside the Box 2016

See the images- stories- book details etc. the Puppet’s very own blog.

The puppets have taken over our lives. They are intent on going on journeys. Two have visited Youghal beach- others are going to Spain on holidays in May.

I believe the puppets are speaking for us. We communicate through our puppets- that yes- we are living with illness or disability- but we are very much part of society in our own right. We are capable of doing many things- including making puppets- create a book- a video- have an exhibition and having an awful lot of fun doing so. We very much live outside of the box.

Over the next few weeks, these two projects – which I can no longer see as separate projects – will be celebrated. The second of the Life Outside the Box launches will take place on Wednesday 16^th March at Waterford City Library (see invite).

A celebration and launch of my Artist Book Into the Light which will be held at The Sanctuary (Dublin) On Saturday 2nd April, 2-4 pm 

Introduced by Sr. Stan (founder of the Sanctuary- a place of absolute beauty and peace), followed by a talk by me.

For further information about directions, book details, Sanctuary, Sr. Stan, see Corina’s Website 

RSVP and enquiries enquiries@sanctuary.ie

These two Box- projects have helped me too. Having successfully guided my group through eight months of this puppet project has given me the courage to do the talk at UCC. To speak up, and be proud of whom I am. What I have achieved.

Even the fact that the platform to access the computer of this ‘high tech’ room at UCC was not accessible for wheelchair users, and my computer was not compatible with the technology, (I improvised - had the students come as close as they could, and shared my story with the help of my small laptop screen), I was not put out by it. It proved my point about disability- and stepping out of the box!

If you can’t make it to the launches, but like the books, they are also available online see my web-shop . (Into the Light is free of postage, Life Outside the Box €1.50 postage)

The Puppet project was kindly supported by an “Artist in the Community Scheme” funded by the Arts Council of Ireland. Into the Light was supported by Rehab Visual Art scheme