Early morning Thursday. We were all waiting for Brian to pick us up for the Dublin trip. It was not horrendously cold, so I waited in the embrace of silence outside, counting shooting stars and satellites (two and one, respectively).
Sunrise as we left the Burren. Everything was covered with frost and fog.
The ride was uneventful, we made the usual stop at the Apple Green rest stop for coffee and bathroom. Brian gave the newbies a brief introduction to Dublin as we entered the city. Our first stop was once again the Hugh Lane gallery. Very pleased to revisit the Francis Bacon pieces there, and see the Harry Clarke window. Unimpressed by the upstairs galleries this time around, some bloated collection of wheat-colored canvases, strung lights and shoes filled with wax. Maybe as a single piece, but not a series that fills four rooms.
A product in the Forbidden Planet comic shop.
An advertisement in Temple Bar.
Typical, ever-changing wall decor in Temple Bar.
Quick stop at the hostel to check in and we were off to see galleries. After the little ones in the Temple Bar area we trekked to the Irish Museum of Modern Art. Most of it is closed, but there is currently a show of Alice Maher's work in the Irish Museum of Modern Art at the National Concert Hall on Earlsfort Terrace (styled as IMMA @ NCH). The show includes video pieces, monumental charcoal drawings, sculpture in a variety of materials from thorns to chrome. I did not expect to be so astounded by it, but the show was incredible. I would have documented at length had there not been the ubiquitous gallery attendant warding off cameras with a raised eyebrow. One room contained
L'Université, an installation of tiers of school desks marked and carved with names, sentences, quotes, phrases, drawings, doodles and profanities. These were lit irregularly by single Christmas lights on long wires from the ceiling. I could have stayed an hour or more and read these. I signed the guestbook on the way out.
"Shane 'Big Mac' McCarthy likes to stick his pipe into manholes"
"Reality is an illusion caused by lack of alcohol"
"Humpy Dumpty was pushed"
"The Ink-Blot Ascendancy* is now!!!"
*An absolutely phenomenal band name.
In addition to those above, I noted this bit of poignancy, which I could not find again when I returned with the camera: "I miss her" and below, in a slightly different hand, "I still miss her." This piece and the other work on display can be read about further in this PDF. Scroll to page 13 for a description of
L'Université. http://www.imma.ie/en/downloads/alicemahergalleryguide2.pdf
After the IMMA show we walked to the Royal Hibernian Academy. I dislike the RHA and I have never seen much there to interest me. The whole of the large upstairs gallery was taken up by Basil Blackshaw's paintings spanning a few decades. I hated all of them. Instead of bothering with that I stood by a window looking across a courtyard to an office building. I began to think how much more interesting it was to watch the people working there than to look at the dullness of the RHA. Luisa showed up and we agreed on this point, so we made did performance called "Planning the Escape." I call it a "performance" as a pretentious half-joke; we stood there talking for seven minutes about how to get out of this dreadful building full of dreadful art.
It was nearing the time when myself and the two new Arcadia students would have to go do our course confirmations. We excused ourselves and walked a very, very long way to Fishamble St. and finally found the new Arcadia office, which was nestled between several shifty-looking alleys, but across from reputable-looking offices and hotels. Gráinne, Kate, Jessica and Tom were all there to meet us. The welcome included spontaneous tea (spontanei-tea) and treats from a bake shop down the road called Queen of Tarts. It was treat enough to see our Arcadia friends. We just signed off on our course selections and chatted about the Burren for a bit less than an hour.
We departed Arcadia again, hoping they will be able to come see us at the end of the year show this time. Wandered for a little while as we were not yet starving. Went into a place called Reptile Haven and met a lot of friendly lizards, some not-so-social constrictors, and a half dozen hyperactive turtles. After this we searched for food a bit aimlessly, finally going with the easy option, O'Neill's on Suffolk St. I know the place and the sandwiches are filling and cheap. Lost Luisa to the supposedly overwhelming allure of the hostel after dinner. I remained with a small group and we went in search of a "small, weird, eclectic pub." A google search of a Dublin map may aid in a visualization, but it not necessary. We started in Temple Bar. We crossed the Liffey a few blocks west of O'Connell St. and the proceeding northwest for about 30 minutes. We the turned right and walked until we met O'Connell St. and followed it back down. Crossed back over. Went through Temple Bar again. Went a bit southeast. Finally settled on a place called The Duke. It was a bit too quiet, but everywhere else was too loud and crowded. Our waitress kept passing our table and giving us glares of unveiled suspicion as if she suspected we weren't going to pay for our pints.
As we prepared to leave The Duke we were texted by the larger collective with exciting plans. We met up with the rest of them and headed to The George, a gay bar and nightclub that is just as welcoming to non-Oscar Wilde types. The populace of this place has got to be the happiest group of people I have seen in Ireland. Around 11:30 there commenced a drag show which was impressive and entertaining, including a game of musical chairs with audience volunteers and a parody of Beyoncé's recent inaugural gaffe. Though the place stays open until 2:30 I made it a comparatively early night and those of us with drooping eyelids departed for the hostel.
On Friday Luisa and I were up early with everyone else despite our plans to skip the planned events. We had seen both the National Museum and the National Gallery before, and we set our sights on exploration. Quick breakfast of toast and we took off. First stop was M. Kennedy and Sons for art supplies. I picked up some German-made oils (magenta, cerulean-turquoise and pthalo blue) which were fairly cheap (at least compared to Winsor-Newton). Also found some small tubes of Liquin impasto medium, which should bulk up my color significantly.
After our first stop it was still just past 10 am, and we had only one or two more important errands. We chose a direction and just walked. Backtracked. Turned. Walked some more. Passed the embassies for Lithuania, Latvia and Malta. Parted ways with Luisa for 45 minutes to return to the Alice Maher show while she wandered St. Stephen's Green. During this I took more snaps of the school desks and lingered to watch the video works again. Signed the guestbook again.
We rendezvoused in the Green and had a leisurely stroll past the swans and ducks. Some crocuses are already up. We started northwest towards the cathedral district. Somewhere along the way we stumbled upon a Wagamama and partook of the lunch deal. Bought a mesh tea infuser at the kitchen shop across from there. Spent too long in that place. I was sorely tempted to treat myself to a red and black bento box, but it wasn't in the budget.
An older gentleman feeding the swans.
See that, America? In Ireland we have crocuses blooming in January.
We continued south down Aungier St., which is a spot I will revisit in future with an empty belly. Lots of crunchy cafés and cute fruit and veg shops. There is also a Chinese herbalist and a place to set up appointments with a medium. Took Kevin street west past St. Patrick's Cathedral and into the antique shop quarter. Stopped into a few vintage shops along the way, didn't find much. Every antique shop was overpriced beyond sanity. Stopped into Oxfam and picked up Stephen Fry's
The Liar for 3 euro, another charity shop had
D:ream On vol. 1 for 50¢. 1990s crap-pop for the win! Passed a lot of street art, some of which has been documented throughout this post.
Somewhere in the antiques quarter.
Sharp right at Cornmarket St., past what is called the "Viking/Medieval Area" on the map. Reconnected with Dame St. Stopped in at Queen of Tarts for a double espresso and almond/pear/chocolate tart. Luisa had fudge cake and tea with what could only be described as a blasphemous quantity of sugar. We had plenty of time, so we took it slow through the vintage shops of Temple Bar. They are characteristically overpriced, not always true vintage and frequently whiffy. We knew what we had to do: beeline for Lucy's Lounge. This place is fantastic. Big room downstairs of genuine vintage plus clearly delineated altered couture, and a somewhat pricier upstairs with local designer's stuff (that sort of bottle cap, Alice in Wonderland and oxidized brass stamping fare). In our rummaging I scored a waistcoat that is actually tailored for the female body so it doesn't look oddly bunched or loose in certain places. Luisa spent some time pawing through old postcards, during which I became better acquainted with Circus and Galaxy, a pair of Saluki mix rescues. These ladies were complete attention whores. Circus loved belly rubs and Galaxy loved head scratches. Who was I to deny either one? Their owners mentioned three other rescues at home who will often pile en masse into the back of their Mitsubishi Colt for a sunday drive.
Circus and Galaxy.
Me (in zombie form) and Galaxy.
Me and Circus.
Circus awaiting belly rubs.
After Lucy's we determined it was bathroom time. Like a couple of silly geese we decided to cross the river and find a bathroom 15 minutes walk from the hostel. Why we did this when there are plentiful restroom facilities in Temple Bar is beyond me. Another half hour of vigorous cardio left my heels and knees feeling like week-old beef chili.
The last piece of street "poetry" I saw before we left.
Soon we rendezvoused with our group and were on the bus. No real chance of sleeping, but I dozed to strains of Oomph!'s
Des Wahnsinns fette Beute. The last two days have been exhausting, but in every way rewarding and genuinely the best trip to Dublin I have had. Then we got home and I discovered the BBC released a clip from the upcoming premiere of
Wonders of Life, which served to remind me that in a mere 24 hours I will be basking in the total sensory experience of the Sol-like, Mancunian
Lord of Particles.
The Dublin haul: D:Ream CD, tea infuser, pad of A5 paper with aspirations of transatlanticism (hint, hint), Mr. Fry's novel, black and yellow vinyl tape for a sculpture project, and oil paints and medium.
As an extra treat for reading my really long blog post, below are in-progess photographs of my work in drawing and painting, as of 23/01/2013.
Manikin (in progress).
Currently untitled, glitch-inspired, semi-but-not-really-self-portrait.
