Ireland’s historic associations with horse-racing failed to yield an 18th-century equivalent to England’s George Stubbs, nevertheless this void was dramatically filled in the 20th century by Jack B Yeats’ and Basil Blackshaw’s heroic renditions, argues Brian Fallon
The horse is, on the whole, less conspicuous in our painting and sculpture than in our literature. Irish 18th-century painting all too plainly lacks a Stubbs, or any reasonable approximation to one; our Romantic period has no Gericault or Delacroix; our Realist painters include no Degas and our Modernists include no Dufy or Franz Marc or Chagall. Yet we have, thank God, Jack Yeats, a unique figure in every sense, and he is scarcely conceivable without the horse – in fact, if I were asked to single out a particular image which is ultra-typical of his work, I would unhesitatingly choose it
Riann Coulter investigates the variety of proposals from the four short-listed artists for Ireland’s most significant art prize
