Not everyone who moves to Lisbon is chasing a life of luxury. For many, it’s about seeking something more fundamental-finding a place where creativity, community, and opportunity converge. It’s a city that offers a new start, a haven for those looking to reinvent themselves. Among these individuals is Aodh Ó Riagáin, a 26-year-old Irish artist who traded the pressure of Dublin’s housing crisis for Lisbon. For Aodh, moving to Almada was about finding space- both physical and mental – where he could develop a career as an artist.
We meet Aodh on the other side of the Tagus River, in Cacilhas, Almada, where the ferry from Lisbon drops us off. He’s waiting for us, with a big smile, clearly at home in his adopted city.
Aodh’s dress sense is as distinctive. Clad entirely in black, his sharp facial features and androgynous look adding a layer of intrigue. His bare arms are adorned with wristbands, giving him the appearance of a street fighter or a modern-day karate kid, though a closer look reveals mysterious eye shadow. Despite the exterior, there’s no aggression in Aodh’s demeanor. His outfit may suggest a warrior, but he’s not here to fight-he’s here to create. Every detail feels like an extension of who he is.
The rivers breeze in Almada sets the tone for our conversation, which feels less like an interview and more like a casual, thoughtful stroll through a place he’s still getting to know. “I’ve lived here for about a year now”, Aodh tells us. “What brought me to Lisbon was a storm of circumstances, really. One big one was the housing crisis in Ireland. I’m a freelance artist, and it’s hard enough to make ends meet without Dublin’s soaring rents. I needed more affordable-and Lisbon offered that. I’m grateful to the Portuguese for hosting me.”
Aodh’s is sincere and yet he’s not naive about the challenges Lisbon and Almada faces. He knows that the very city which offers him refuge is under similar pressures. “I moved from Ireland because of the cost of living, but I know the Portuguese are feeling the pressure as well”, he says, his tone reflective. “It’s a strange world. People are looking for affordable living everywhere, and the problem just moves from one place to the next.”
“The sun really helps with mental health”
As we board a tram to head deeper into Almada, Aodh grabs a hold of the handlebar. The clattering of the tram, the rhythmic screeching as it navigates the tracks, feels like a metaphor for life here-a little chaotic, a little bumpy, but always moving forward. Aodh chuckles as the tram picks up speed. “I love the transport here”, he says, his enthusiasm infectious. “It’s fast and frequent, though I’m always running for it! But that’s more of a me issue than anything to do with the service .”
As we step off the tram, Aodh gestures towards a nearby library. “I studied English literature, actually”, he says, as he reflects on his academic past. “I don’t focus on writing novels anymore, but the knowledge I gained from studying literature informs everything I do now. Storytelling, character development-it’s all part of my work. Whether it’s drawing a comic or illustrating a scene, there’s always a narrative running through it.”
Aodh’s words are noticeably deliberate. It soon becomes clear that this careful way of speaking is tied to a deeper aspect of who Aodh is.
He tells us about his experience with dyspraxia, a neurodivergence that affects motor skills and coordination, as well as how he processes language and thought. “One aspect of dyspraxia is that you form sentences kind of word by word”, explains, pausing as if to illustrate the point. “It’s on the spectrum alongside things like autism, dyslexia, and ADHD. Most people assume it just makes you clumsy, but it’s more than that. For me, it also means I have low muscle tone, so I’m a skinny bastard”, he says with a self-deprecating laugh, his sharp Irish wit cutting through the seriousness of the moment.
As we walk, it’s clear that despite the difficulties, Aodh sees Lisbon and Almada as places where he can flourish. “The sun really helps with mental health”, he says, looking up at the clear blue sky. Indeed, the atmosphere around us is light, almost idyllic-children playing nearby, skaters rolling by in the distance, a water fountain spraying.
Suddenly, Aodh’s attention shifts. We’re standing in front of a large mural on the library’s facade, and he becomes animated, pointing out various details with the wide-eyed curiosity of someone seeing it for the first time. “I don’t know exactly what history this mural is preserving, but look at it-it’s fantastic, isn’t it?”
His hands sweep across the figures on the wall: anthropomorphic creatures, sages, and a character he affectionately refers to as “the pig-man.” His favorite, though, is the “tree lady”, a figure with branches for arms, rising majestically from the mural. “I love her.”
The mural, we later discover, is the work of Rogério Ribeiro, one of Portugal’s most noted artists. It draws inspiration from Peregrinação, the 16th-century book chronicling the adventures of Fernão Mendes Pinto in far-off Eastern lands. This connection to exploration and discovery feels oddly fitting, given Aodh’s own journey, both as an artist and as a migrant finding his way in a new city.
We talk about his art, and how his creativity extends to even the smallest details of his life-like his personal style. “I like when people’s dress sense is their own”, he muses. “It’s like you have your costume, you know?” His approach to fashion, like his art, has deep roots in performance. “I consider a lot of what I do to be in the circus tradition”, he says. “There’s an element of peacocking, of creating enchantment, making yourself a spectacle so people will pay attention to your work.”
“This is where the magic happens”
As we head toward Aodh’s apartment in Almada, we notice how his building is tall, and Aodh lives on one of the top floors. We mention the recent earthquake that shook Lisbon, and his face changes, a shadow passing over his normally calm expression. “Yeah, I was here for that”, he says quietly. “Earthquakes don’t happen in Ireland, so it was a first for me. I’m a night owl, so I was up working when it hit, around 5 a.m. I’d never felt anything like it-the whole room shaking. When you live high up, it feels a lot less cool when the ground starts moving. I think I’ve got a little PTSD from it, to be honest.”
He speaks about Lisbon’s history with earthquakes, particularly the devastating one of 1755 that nearly leveled the city. “It’s always in the back of your mind, you know? Lisbon is overdue for another big one, and when that quake hit, I thought, ‘Is this the one?’ Thankfully, it wasn’t. But it still freaks me out.”
Inside his apartment, Aodh’s bedroom is both a sanctuary and a creative lab, filled with brushes, bottles of ink, and scattered drawings in various stages of completion. “This is where the magic happens”, he says with a grin, sweeping his hand across the organized chaos of his desk. “I love working with ink-there’s something tactile about it. You get it on your hands, your face, everywhere. That’s when it’s most joyful.”
Aodh’s art spans a wide range of media, from illustrations and graphic novels to experimental comics. His work often draws on Irish mythology, blending ancient stories with modern techniques to create something entirely unique. “Irish mythology is a huge part of what I do”, explains, showing us a few pieces inspired by the old stories and heroes. “It’s such a rich source of inspiration, and I love finding new ways to interpret these myths.”
Some of his projects, like his graphic novels, have been in the works for years. “I’m crazy. But I see the different mediums I work with as parts of a whole-like fingers on a hand. They all connect to the same creative impulse. If you understand patterns in one medium, they tend to translate into another.”
As we leave Aodh’s apartment, racing to catch another tram, it becomes clear that his artistic process is as much about the journey as it is about the destination. On the tram and out of breath, Aodh is exhilarated. He suddenly draws a literary parallel between his life in Almada and James Joyce’s Ulysses. “Ulysses takes place over 24 hours in Dublin, capturing a moment in time through the eyes of a city’s characters. In a way, that’s what Lisbon feels like to me right now-this unique moment, full of interesting people and situations.”
“The dragon I’m chasing is creative flow”
Back at the dock, as the interview winds down, Aodh shows off a strange keyring we have noticed-it’s a small, plushy neuron. “This was a gift from one of my best friends, a neuroscientist”, he explains, lightly squeezing the plushy neuron. “We have thousands of these in our brains. And for even one small movement or decision, thousands of neurons have to fire in sequence, like a Mexican wave.”
“In a lot of ways, I’m trying to have that mentality in terms of other people, in terms of communication, in terms of the work that I make. You’re trying to signal to the other neurons so that hopefully you can get a mass movement going. But it always starts with one neuron flashing off.”
“The dragon I’m chasing is creative flow”, Aodh says, eyes lighting up with passion. “But it’s not just that. There’s this book that really inspires me, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction by Ursula K. Le Guin. In it, she talks about the two key tools of humanity: the stick and the carrier bag. The stick is about conflict, about confrontation. It’s me versus you.”
“He pauses, letting the weight of that sink in before offering an alternative. “But then theres the carrier bag. It’s the idea of gathering, of preservation. Think of early humans foraging for food, collecting berries or grains. They needed a bag, something to bring their findings back home. It wasn’t about conflict, it was about sustaining life. I find that idea fascinating, this concept of art as a carrier bag. Instead of creating stories or work centered on conflict, you create something that preserves, something that holds onto the magic of a moment, of a feeling. That’s what I’m increasingly conscious of-preserving.”
From Almada, his gaze drifts toward the river, reflecting for a moment. “I think art can contribute to healing. Increasingly, that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to contribute to wellness in other people through stories, through patterns that give people catharsis for the pain that they have.”
The role of the artist is to be a psychopomp. And a psychopomp, it’s the person who rides the boat on the river Styx. I think that as somebody who’s been through a certain amount of loss, you know, I hope to put forward the wisdom that I have into the work that I’m doing and contribute to some healing, contribute to some wellness. Something that makes people not feel so hopeless about things. Maybe there’s something in that.”
With that Aodh raises a peace sign his fingers. “Be well.” And with that, Aodh turns back toward Almada, leaving behind the ripple of his words, like one small neuron firing, ready to spark something larger.
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