Steps of a Legacy: Art, Shoes, and the Journey Within #49 #cong24 #legacy

Synopsis:

This essay reflects on my legacy as an artist with a love for shoes. Each pair of shoes and each painting represents a part of my journey, carrying memories and moments that shape my story. Legacy, for me, is not about lasting monuments but about leaving honest, heartfelt imprints—marks that may fade over time but capture emotions and perspectives that continue to inspire me.

Total Words

1,080

Reading Time in Minutes

4

Key Takeaways:

1.Legacy can be a quiet but powerful trace of our journey**: Like footprints that eventually fade, our legacy is the heartfelt impact we make in the moment, meaningful even if it’s not permanent.
2. Legacy can be found in personal, everyday items: Even something as simple as a pair of shoes can carry meaningful memories, reflecting different stages of life..
3.Legacy isn’t always about permanence**: Leaving a legacy doesn’t require something monumental; sometimes, it’s the small, honest imprints we leave behind that matter most.
4. Our legacy is shaped by both presence and influence**: The people we touch, inspire, or challenge are part of what we leave behind, even if we’re not remembered by name.

About Trish Findlater:

Trish Findlater grew up in Co Westmeath on the River Shannon.
After an (BauhausArt inspired) Foundation year at GMIT Galway, she spent three years at the Fine art department of University of Ulster in Belfast graduating with a first class honour degree in Sculpture & painting 1983.
The following year Trish was awarded an masters scholarship to the Academy of Antwerp, Belgium specialising in portraiture, sculpture, painting and art history graduating with a masters in Art 1986. On her return to Dublin Trish established a very successful mural painting company which evolved into the world of interior design and eventually she engaged fulltime in Architecture working with various companies here in Ireland only returning in 2006 to complete a first class degree in interior architecture at Griffith college Dublin, finally setting up her own practice and continuing in design for many years.
Trish attributes her return to fine art to her late husband Alex who always felt she had a tremendous talent for it and now fully immersed. Her focus is primarily Landscapes and seascapes but tends to paint in both oils and soft pastels a variety of subject matter whilst painting ‘En plein air’. Her Solo exhibition last year ‘Grief’s dark seed and hope’s Blossom’ of 41 paintings in soft pastel inspired by her perennial and herbaceous garden was a triumph. The book of the same title was published subsequently with the addition of her poetry and winning the Silver gilt award at AITO Wexford in the same year firmly acknowledged ‘Trish Findlater, an artist of note.
“ I adore art, all genres of art, but I am expressly drawn to landscape and seascape and have made these my main focus in my painting and can carry the viewer to new places or evoke emotions & memories of previous locations.
My paintings often prompt emotional responses especially through the use of pastels ,their highly pigmented colours along emit light, texture & composition.

Contacting TRISH FINDLATER:

You can contact Trish by email or see her work

By Trish Findlater

Legacy is a word that carries weight, echoing forward from the lives we’ve lived and the impressions we’ve made. As a fine artist, my work naturally becomes a piece of my legacy—a silent, visual mark on the world. My legacy isn’t something grandiose or fixed; it is a collection of moments, thoughts, and images woven together, like brushstrokes on a canvas, waiting to be interpreted. And, somewhat unexpectedly, I realize that my love for shoes has found a place within this understanding of legacy, shaping how I step into and leave each moment.

Shoes are among the most personal items we own. They carry us, support us, and reflect our journey. When I think of my wardrobe full of shoes, I think of the stages of my life that each pair represents. There are scuffed sneakers from my days of long walks through cities, where I wandered alone, searching for inspiration. There are elegant, strappy heels that remind me of gallery openings, where I stood tall, hoping my art spoke louder than my words could. In this way, each pair of shoes represents a piece of my history, a small fragment of my story. And this, too, is legacy: it is the collection of places I’ve been, the things I’ve seen, and the imprint I’ve left behind.

My work as an artist is undoubtedly a significant part of what I leave behind, but I wonder if legacy truly lies in the permanence of things. A painting may hang on a wall, but its meaning evolves over time and with every new viewer. My art is a kind of whisper, a suggestion of the world as I’ve seen it. The colors, shapes, and textures I choose are expressions of emotions, observations, or questions I couldn’t articulate in any other way. Legacy, then, isn’t just about what endures; it’s also about what I contribute to the endless conversation of human expression and understanding. Like shoes, each piece of art carries a bit of where I’ve been, but each also walks forward without me, adding meaning through others’ interpretations.

Legacy, in a broader sense, is also about influence—the lives we touch, the people we inspire, even those we challenge. I don’t know if my art will be remembered a hundred years from now, or if anyone will even know my name. But in the present, I hope to leave behind a trail of empathy, a record of emotions felt deeply. My hope is that my art, like my shoes, carries people—maybe just for a moment—into a different experience or perspective.

Sometimes, I think of legacy as the footprints left on a well-trodden path. Just as I walk in the shoes of artists who came before me, creating and questioning as they did, I leave traces of my own journey. My shoes remind me that my legacy is not only my art but also my curiosity, my willingness to explore, to move forward with uncertainty and excitement.

In the end, my legacy might not be monumental or historic. It will likely be quiet, like a shoeprint in sand that fades over time. But it will be honest—a collection of places I’ve been, questions I’ve asked, and beauty I’ve sought to capture. For me, that is enough.

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