Rowan Gillespie

Adams, Dublin, 27 May 2015, lot 98, where purchased by the present owner 

The bronze appears sound and the work in good overall condition.
"In response to your inquiry, we are pleased to provide you with a general report of the condition of the property described above. Since we are not professional conservators or restorers, we urge you to consult with a restorer or conservator of your choice who will be better able to provide a detailed, professional report. Prospective buyers should inspect each lot to satisfy themselves as to condition and must understand that any statement made by Sotheby's is merely a subjective, qualified opinion. Prospective buyers should also refer to any Important Notices regarding this sale, which are printed in the Sale Catalogue.
NOTWITHSTANDING THIS REPORT OR ANY DISCUSSIONS CONCERNING A LOT, ALL LOTS ARE OFFERED AND SOLD AS IS" IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CONDITIONS OF BUSINESS PRINTED IN THE SALE CATALOGUE."

Gillespie’s sublime bronze captures the spirit of the blind harpist Turlough O’Carolyn at play. Born in 1670, near the village of Nobber in County Meath, O’Carolyn was one of Ireland’s most celebrated harpists, famed for his beautiful compositions and extempore verse. Though blinded by smallpox, none could question the magic of O’Carolyn’s gift, where, using just the buttons on his waistcoat, he taught himself the art of composition. Indeed, in a world where braille had yet to be invented, buttons would have to do. O’Carolyn’s musical talent was encouraged and refined by Mary Fitzgerald McDermott Rowe, an affluent noblewoman who would become his lifelong friend and patron. Into his hands, she bestowed three gifts: a harp, a horse and some money. It was these very gifts that would launch O’Carolyn’s remarkable career, and award him the title of Ireland’s ‘National Composer’.

For Gillespie, there has always been something about Turlough O’Carolyn.  It was on a wet and misty Irish day, in the mid to late seventies, that the sculptor first visited O’Carolyn’s birthplace, and was instantly struck by the musicians story:  ‘an interest in Carolyn’s music and life was born and remains with me to this day’ (Gillespie).  At the heart of this ethereal piece, lies a concept that captivated Gillespie: creativity without sight. ‘This was an attempt for me to grasp how it might be… I merged the figure with the harp letting the two become one’ (Gillespie).  This creative fusion of body and sound reflects the physicality of music, for music is something we feel, rather than something we see. The present work prefigures Gillespie’s later sculptures of prominent Irish figures, including Yeats, Joyce, Beckett and Heaney and captures the essence of man unfazed by circumstance. Indeed, for music one needs neither eyes nor sight but a different kind of vision, an artistic vision which O’Carolyn most certainly possessed.