‘Trying too hard is what makes everything a mess - trusting is better’

“I was just born to do art,” Sharon Mundy says as a shortcut to how she’s got to this point.

It’s not a brash statement, simply a matter of fact. She can no longer deny it or put off the considerable workload that comes with it.

Side-tracked by life and unsuited career paths, it took the mother of three a considerable length of time and much soul searching before she could admit this to herself.

Despite the pressure of a looming exhibition, Sharon makes time she can ill afford to chat to the Celt at her studio at her Deredis home. Only minutes from the hustle of town, negotiating the knotted tangle of roads brings you to the elevated setting blessed with epic views of verdant countryside, the horizon punctuated by Fleming’s Folly. On one of those torturously muggy days that dominated July the colours seem even more alive.

As a child she loved making art, and excelled at it. Her eldest brother Gerard Mundy, who has since passed away, was a talented professional artist. He had cautioned her against taking Leaving Cert art. Having studied art in college he believed art lessons were counter-productive.

“He thought you needed to learn from your own self,” she recalls.

But without that structured path which Leaving Cert could have provided, “What happened was I gave up art, and I didn’t do it.”

Like so many people progressing through school, Sharon put aside childish things and conformed to the conventional expectations of career.

“I went down the route of doing law - a business Law Degree in Glasgow,” she explains in the harsh sunlight, standing barefoot in the warm damp grass.

“I worked in a solicitor’s office in Dublin for a year and was so depressed by the end of it. I hadn’t the aptitude for it at all. It was a disaster.”

Over the two decades that followed, she pursued other jobs and has a teaching qualification, but she still didn’t nurture her creative side.

She begins to suggest time has been an issue, but dismisses that as an excuse.

“I haven’t realised until now that I have to do this, and trust that it will all work out. I know it will, I do trust in this situation. As long as you are enjoying what you do it will work itself out.”

Her realisation that she needed to return to art came through meditation.

“They say your soul is your five-year-old self. So somebody I was working with asked me: ‘what does your five-year-old child want for you?’

“It was through meditation I realised I’m most happy when I’m painting. And I get lost in it, so it’s like a soul craving.”

Sharon was also aware of a burning jealousy when viewing other people’s exhibitions.

“That’s a good sign,” she says.

The Celt wonders if it was also inspiring to see others’ work?

“No,” she says with a laugh that begins somewhere in her toes. “No, it was, but there was also this pure jealousy almost. It was an ugly kind of thing.”

Her reintroduction was revelatory for her.

“I got some crayons and a big pad and just let my hand go free. And I really liked the painting at the end - it was not for everybody. But the energy was there, of fun, the energy of joy. It was my inner child just playing.”

She notes however that resuming art exposes you to “all these emotions”. “That’s why it’s hard to get back into because you are looking at your art and you’re not impressed. It’s not easy.

“How you are in life is how your art is. The more you can let go and not care - that is a big part of it when you are painting for others, it’s no fun. The freer you are in the art the better. And people feel that in the art too. I’m not there yet, but I’m definitely getting there.” Sharon announced herself on the local visual arts stage by contributing a few small paintings to an exhibition in the Townhall Theatre late last year. Loose, but skilfully executed they were bought in double quick time. Not that Sharon needed any confirmation, but it at least confirmed to onlookers that she was on the right path.

Now in her spacious studio Sharon has about a dozen or so canvases on the go - including a few large scale pieces depicting musicians, cows, dancers - for her first solo exhibition in Johnston Central Library during Heritage Week. She’s happy with the energy in the work, but she also expresses frustration with aspects of it, surmising she needs to be more “free”.

“Trying too hard is what makes everything a mess - trusting is better,” she asserts.

“I’m finding my way in art, it’s not just going to happen overnight for me. I’m finding my own style.”

Rearing three children- daughter Charlie (9) and sons Frankie (6) and Conan nearly two- she has to snatch time when she can. However, occasionally Sharon does get the chance to lose herself in her work.

“It’s where I can get lost and literally the world just disappears. And you feel total joy after it, when those moments happen. You’re really happy - you know you’ve fed something. It’s your inner child, so you start to get this joy that you had when you were young that you had forgotten about.”

She knows others share her experience of being frustrated artists, shackled to convention and afraid to let go. She insists that continuing to ignore or repress your creative yearning it will have “consequences”, noting it could even impact their health.

“I know there are people out there who should be doing it, and they are destroying themselves by doing things they are not really aligned with. So their inner child is suffering.”

Sharon suspects parents are unwittingly passing on their fears of pursuing their dreams.

“They are probably showing their children the exact same path. Then their children [in time show their children] - somebody has to break this.

“Children are looking at their parents and going: ‘Oh, that’s what we’re going to be - miserable!’,” she says with a laugh. “It’s there for anybody.

“I believe you are provided for the minute you trust and let go of having to do what everyone else is doing - you are absolutely provided for. In this life I’ve realised all you have to do is things you enjoy.”