A Fly’s Perspective of Loss
‘A Fly’s Perspective of Loss’ presents a series of paintings that portray a journey of introspection. The work reflects on the artist’s exploration of their emotional psyche under the guidance of a psychoanalytic therapist over the span of a year to resolve issues of separation, belonging and connection. The personification of clothing is a tool designed within their therapy sessions to distance the artist’s self from the issues they are dealing with in the hope to gain valuable insight. Viewers are invited to be ‘a fly on the wall’ and engage with the artist’s therapeutic process and inner dialogues.
Ruckenfigur is a compositional device used in painting; by depicting the figure from behind, the artist invites the viewer to self-identify with the scene. Doyle’s bodily arrangement of clothing is an inventive engagement with this method and conveys a similar sense of longing and existential consideration that is associated with the tradition.The work exposes the monotony of mental health challenges and the safe spaces in which they are often worked through. Accompanying the imagery are handwritten texts that hang from the wall on tracing paper which narrates the artist’s subconscious. The writing provides insight into the specific issues manifested on canvas as well as revealing the mental state of the artist at the time.
This body of work departs from Doyle’s usual motif of the figure. Avoiding representational methods of self portraiture, they embrace a different approach that incorporates text and an intimate scale to capture moments of self reflection.
A solo exhibition at SO Fine Art Editions Dublin. April 2025.
A sterile environment of vermillion and ultramarine white stages the scene for a fragmented figure. Which appears to be in the process of soft construction. Putting its parts in the correct place to complete itself. Clicking and creaking noises fill the space as piece after piece embraces one another. Although it is equally probable to suggest this process being carried out is deconstructive in nature.
A raw hand carries out the process of tearing sections of itself apart in order to understand how it functions. A laborious task. An ouroboros task. It would be regretful to overlook the evidence of play that it has exposed itself to overtime. An unintentional spread of white paint graces the folds of these threadbare joggers. Tasty.
🔧🤕🏠, Oil on Canvas, 45X40 cm
💭😕🌱, Oil on Canvas, 40x30 cm
🛡️🤬🍪, Oil on Canvas, 25X30cm
☀️😞🎉 Oil on Canvas, 25X30cm
The blind was convinced to open for the sake of the plant. Yawning and stretching, trying to come to life, Dolly would be proud. A pair of leggings oversees in awe, likely a smidge of jealousy too. It’s becoming so vibrant in its unwavering goal to fulfil its potential in the face of a barren environment such as an apartment. Something the leggings didn’t think was possible. It cheers from a deflated position on the couch.
Wouldn't it be wonderful to walk outside and bask in the light too?
Such a pity.
😶🪨🕳️ ,Oil on Canvas, 25X30cm
Daylight and still in bed. A grey cotton canova torso pulled itself up and waited for instruction. It’s 11:22 am and still pending. Have you noticed the pattern on the bed resembles bars, what a snug looking prison cell. The covers are pulled back so at least there was an attempt at Shawshanking it.
The bedside table contains miscellaneous items with no use. A reminder of what's important is framed but the torso is too focused on the encumbering task of moving to notice. An atmosphere thickening with urgency, while the shadows remain soft and gentle, “sure give it another few minutes” they whisper.
😄🧩😐, Oil on Canvas, 25X30cm
⏳😒💡, Oil on Canvas, 25X30cm
Seven months of living in this corridor and the boredom has started to kick in. The ultramarine has remained constant, darkening even. The sterile vermillion has staled, resulting in a fractured ochre. It might be time to open a door. Time in the corridor has lost its appeal and while the optimism to leave is still absent, at least the outside has possibility. Do you think the corridor will yearn for company?
It appears we’ve walked in on a decision.
A stagnant cardigan and pair of utilitarian jeans stand on either side of the door. Strands of string hang from both sides of the handles in an attempt to hold it open. However only one remains attached. The denims have committed to sealing the door, all of their strings lay lifeless. You have to admire the ruthlessness determination, it takes strength.
The cardigan seems pretty pathetic stunned in comparison. How convicted were they for this scenario in the first place if a butterknife was chosen as the tool for cutting string? The strain of holding such a large door open with string must be cutting into the cardigans fabric pretty severely by now. How long can it endure?
😭🔗🔪 , Oil on Canvas, 30x25cm
🧔🛫🧒, Oil on Canvas, 25x30cm
😶☀️♾️, Oil on Canvas, 25x25cm
😶❄️♾️, Oil on Canvas, 25x25cm
Is it possible to have a pilgrimage in a stairwell? In the first few days of this journey the exit appeared to merely be a few floors down. Running didn’t work, exhaustion set in faster than any adult should own up to. The exit just got further away anyway. Bollocks. It has disappeared entirely now. Actually, that may be for the best. There’s something rhythmic about walking down steps. One foot falling in front of the next, it’s quite meditative really.
It's winter now and the rain has encouraged a cry or seven. The exit has reappeared in the last few weeks and while once the end destination, it is obvious now the steps will continue beyond.
Light illuminates a scene that has grown overnight like a cancerous lump. Thoughts of loss where it had not existed before is now metastasizing at an aggressive rate. A perturbed cyan shirt has reacted by suturing itself to its champion to preempt the inevitable. A childish solution. The material now folds and pulls in abnormal ways, changing the natural flow of patterns.
🫂 🧵✂️ , Oil on Canvas, 30x30 cm
“Doors opening”
A tentative pose enveloped by the reflective interior of an elevator. One could daydream in a place like this. A funny old space to be. Up, down, up, down. “Doors closing”. Did you know hydrangea is a plant you shouldn’t deadhead when they wilt. It is a requirement for its growth. Suddenly depression seems necessary for humans. Lol.
“Ground floor. Doors opening”.
🤔🧭📍 , Oil on Canvas, 30x30 cm
🪆🌦️ 📖 , Oil on Canvas, 95x95 cm
💧🛑🧳 , Oil on Canvas, 30x25 cm
🗓️🤞🪞 , Oil on Canvas, 25x30 cm
Between past and present lies a fleshy jacket. It has grown too large to fit in its previous dwelling now. Now that it occupies this new space, it seems dainty.
Akin to a hermit crab transitioning to a new shell. Hopefully the time they spent in its original habitat hasn’t stunted its growth. Evacuated hermit crabs will fare just fine if given the proper environment, time, and shell availability to choose a new home.
