For our free day in Belfast, Nicole, Shana, and I decided to go on a full-day Giant’s Causeway Tour! To say it was breathtaking would be an extreme understatement – this tour was one of the best experiences I’ve had abroad to date. There were times that I had to remember that I was in Ireland because some of the locations were so tropical-esque. The drive was so peaceful, and the tour guide was excellent at pointing out all of the historical stops along the way. At one point, he said that he does this tour every weekday and he never gets bored or tired of it because the views are so gorgeous – that says something. The views are incredible and I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing it every day!

First, we made a quick stop at the Carrickfergus Castle, built in the 12th century – around the 1120s I believe – and surprisingly well kept for its age. We didn’t have time to go into the castle, but I really enjoyed the views from the outside and would love to come back some day! It’s something my husband would jump at the chance to do.

Next, we made our way to the Carrick-a-Rede Bridge, which we were so happy to find out was OPEN! When we booked the tour we found out that it was vandalized and closed “indefinitely” but they fixed it much faster than we thought. It cost six pounds to cross and it was so fun – I’ve actually been on bridges much more rickety so I found it quite easy to cross! The views were impeccable and the hike was tough but worth it.

Next up – Giant’s Causeway! After a lunch break, we were finally able to take a more leisurely walk to these incredible rocks at the end of the trail. Hard on the feet and ankles, but amazing to climb on and cross. I found a spot right where waves crash where not a lot of people were to claim as my own for a good while, and found myself wishing I had a good book and all the time in the world to relax on the rocks. So many people were there, but it was easy to tune it all out and connect with nature.

During the drive back to Belfast, I kept thinking about how wonderful the day was and how lucky I was to go on the tour. With this, and today’s museum/gardens visit, Black Taxi Tour, and delicious dinner, I’m sad to leave Ireland but know that I will always remember this fantastic trip – and who knows, I might even frame some of the pictures with breathtaking views that I happened to capture!

Today’s excursion at the National Gallery of Ireland was absolutely incredible. The Vermeer exhibit was definitely a once in a lifetime opportunity and I loved it much more than I thought I would. I’m so glad we got tickets even though it’s not related to Irish Literature or History (since Vermeer is Dutch). After being fully immersed in Dublin and Irish culture, it was nice to step back for a bit and appreciate another culture in context. My favorite paintings are Woman with a Balance and the pair The Astronomer and The Geographer.

Before we went through the Vermeer exhibit, we were able to walk around the rest of the gallery, and I absolutely loved it! I am not as interested in the Picassos of the art world, but I did notice that a lot of the paintings or sculptures in one of the European Art exhibits (1850-1950 I believe, but I’m not positive) were actually donated or presented by Sir Alfred Chester Beatty – if that name sounds familiar, its because of the Chester Beatty Library in Dublin Castle! I mentioned this in my other blog post about him, but Chester Beatty understood that art needed to be accessible to people of all classes, so he would purposely buy art just to donate it to museums and other places and people so they could be exhibited and seen by everyone. I remember a worker at the Chester Beatty Library saying that what was on display there was only 1% of Beatty’s possessions and purchases, and seeing his gifts in the National Gallery reinforced that number. It was wonderful seeing his name on a lot of the artwork, and his cause is admirable – no matter where you come from or how much money you make, Beatty wanted to make sure you were able to see these masterpieces that he loved to find and purchase.

Today I was able to teach Oscar Wilde’s “The Portrait of Mr. W.H.” for class. I’ve only read a handful of Wilde’s work before, so I was excited to jump at the chance – and I loved it! I’ve really liked his work so far and was excited to dive into one of his other pieces, “De Profundis,” for my read in place choice. I felt like doing it in front of his statue in Merrion Square was perfect – as Dr. Richardson was describing, Wilde’s face is meant to depict both tragedy and comedy – like the theatre masks – and reading “De Profundis” shows a much more serious, somber side of Wilde. As I mentioned after my reading, my justification for choosing the passage from the “letter” that I decided to read was because I felt it gave a sense of how Wilde was feeling at the time – alone, sorrowful, and very much stuck in a liminal space that he feels he may not get out of. Much like the feeling of paralysis in Joyce’s Dubliners, I get an intense feeling of sadness and a sense of going nowhere when I read “De Profundis.” Wilde was released from jail in 1897 and died in 1900 – so his feeling of going nowhere was actually fairly accurate. He lived his last few years in exile, completely deprived of money and his previous luxurious life. His wife refused to meet with him and allow him to see his children. He died in Paris of meningitis in 1900 and is currently buried right outside the city – so geographically he was able to escape his liminal space, but I believe he was never able to feel free again.

For those that are interested, the passage that I read from “De Profundis” is as follows:

Suffering is one very long moment.  We cannot divide it by seasons.  We can only record its moods, and chronicle their return.  With us time itself does not progress.  It revolves.  It seems to circle round one centre of pain.  The paralysing immobility of a life every circumstance of which is regulated after an unchangeable pattern, so that we eat and drink and lie down and pray, or kneel at least for prayer, according to the inflexible laws of an iron formula: this immobile quality, that makes each dreadful day in the very minutest detail like its brother, seems to communicate itself to those external forces the very essence of whose existence is ceaseless change.  Of seed-time or harvest, of the reapers bending over the corn, or the grape gatherers threading through the vines, of the grass in the orchard made white with broken blossoms or strewn with fallen fruit: of these we know nothing and can know nothing.

For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow.  The very sun and moon seem taken from us.  Outside, the day may be blue and gold, but the light that creeps down through the thickly-muffled glass of the small iron-barred window beneath which one sits is grey.  It is always twilight in one’s cell, as it is always twilight in one’s heart.  And in the sphere of thought, no less than in the sphere of time, motion is no more.  The thing that you personally have long ago forgotten, or can easily forget, is happening to me now, and will happen to me again to-morrow.  Remember this, and you will be able to understand a little of why I am writing, and in this manner writing. . . .

I can likely say with confidence that I will never read the rest of James Joyce’s Ulysses – at least voluntarily – but participating in Bloomsday was an absolute blast. Starting off with lunch basically right on the water was a wonderful start, not to mention the delicious food! The walk to James Joyce Tower was gorgeous and I was surprisingly very interested in the tower itself! The layout of the room as it is described in Ulysses, the windy staircase, and the lovely reading at the top of the tower all gave a new appreciation for Joyce and Ulysses itself. It’s always powerful to visit places where people live or work or mention in their writing, and we killed two birds with one stone with the Tower!

It was truly a memorable experience to hear the reading of Ulysses: I’ve found that the experiences that stick with you the most are the unexpected ones, so stumbling across the reading was a pleasant surprise! The weather was perfect, the breeze was blowing and the man performing the reading was excellent – plus, most everyone was in their Bloomsday attire which really set the scene! I wish I knew more about Ulysses to comment on the reading that he chose (I don’t remember specifically what passage he chose, and it was of course hard to keep track) but I could tell he was passionate and well-read in Joyce’s works. The museum was wonderful, but the reading topped it all in my opinion.

When I started my MA, I was working full time at a CRM (Customer Relationship Management) company called Salesforce – most specifically for their B2B Marketing product, Pardot, as a data specialist and customer advocate. I was blessed with an incredibly supportive team and had already been working with them for six months before I started classes. I left the team this past April to focus on my last semesters before graduation, but the friendships I made with my colleagues are still going strong. My former team is split in multiple offices around the world – Atlanta, San Francisco, Sydney, and Dublin! Obviously, once I signed on for this trip, I let my Dublin friends know immediately that I was going to be visiting and that I have to see them. The free day made the most sense for all of us: tonight we went out to dinner at the Hairy Lemon followed by delicious gelato at Gino’s!

In the picture from left to right is Clare, Evelyn, and Jessica. Clare and Evelyn are both Irishwomen (Clare is actually from Belfast) but Jessica is not – she’s from Idaho! She had been working for Salesforce for a couple years when an opportunity to relocate to Dublin came her way and she jumped at the chance. She’s really the perfect person to talk to about understanding yourself in a brand new place and feeling dislocated – we may be feeling out of place being here for a week or so, but she’s been here for a few years with her son, which certainly took some getting used to! I also think it’s entertaining that I’ve experienced some things in Dublin that Clare and Evelyn haven’t – Clare had never had Gino’s Gelato before tonight!

Seeing them just for this one night made me miss them and the whole team so much, but I know one thing: if I’m ever in Dublin again, I have friends to help me feel at home.

Today’s tour at the Kilmainham Gaol was an incredibly sobering experience for me. I wasn’t expecting it to have such a powerful effect. I’ve always found that visiting places people have lived, worked, or died has a lasting effect on me. What I experienced today was similar to when I visited Shakespeare’s childhood home in Stratford-Upon-Avon and the Charles Dickens Museum in London, like I could feel Shakespeare and Dickens in the room – I could feel the prisoners there, could see them in my head. Walking past the jail cells gave me chills, especially when I looked through the holes to see the living conditions inside.

For some reason, walking through the actual jail really shocked me – I think it was because of the juxtaposition with the cafe/bookshop area. That area was so neat, organized, and modern, and when I walked into the jail the difference completely threw me off guard. I really felt uncomfortable about the modern area – I know exactly why they made those renovations, but there was something unsettling about having a piece of chocolate cake and a flat white right beside the place where many, many people were murdered or imprisoned for life. The gentrification in those kind of places often makes me feel guilty because I know what this place has stood for and what has happened there. Like Cresswell says, memories make up a place, and I was constantly thinking about the memories and experiences of the prisoners here. The tour guide was absolutely fantastic in facilitating that knowledge and making sure everyone understood the gravity of the location. In particular, the exercise yard and the location of the executions were the most chilling – the latter being obvious, and the former because I pictured the monotonous task of walking around in a circle for exercises, with mandated silence.

After lunch today, Shana, Nicole and I returned to visit the Chester Beatty Library at Dublin Castle, and words will not be able to express how much I loved it. The Library describes itself as “a vibrant, engaging and welcoming space for the appreciation and understanding of world cultures” on its website. Though we were there for much too short of a time – we all could have spent at least two hours – we were completely enthralled with what it had to offer.

I did a bit more research on Chester Beatty himself to understand the variety of his collection and why he became a collector. Beatty is actually American, born in New York in 1875. He graduated as a mining engineer from Columbia University and eventually established a mining consultancy in New York. From a young age, Beatty loved to collect and bet on items with his father – a hobby that stuck with him until he died in 1968. I can’t place exactly what interested him in the items he began collecting, like Chinese snuff bottles and Oriental art and books except that he likely traveled there and fell in love with the artistry.

Beatty traveled to London in 1911 after his wife suddenly died and became a British citizen in 1933 (followed by honorary Irish citizenship in 1957) and was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II in 1954. He established himself as a fierce and competitive force in the Orientalist art market during this time and he established a relationship with the British Museum – some items from his collection are also on display there, including nineteen Egyptian papyri. As he got older, he would buy items only to donate them – he appeared to me to be very conscious of the inaccessibility of art and ancient works and purchased items to be shown at free exhibits. The Chester Beatty Library, after all, is free of charge to see. I think Beatty enjoyed tracking down items of great value more than enjoying them and displaying them in his own home, based on the research I’ve done. The website for the Library says Beatty was “deeply committed to preserving texts for their historic value.”

The variety of texts and paintings/artwork on display in the Chester Beatty Library are a sight to see and I will definitely have to go back to get a true appreciation for Mr. Beatty’s collection. The worker at the front desk let us know that what’s on display in the entire library is only 1% of what he owned – imagine the other 99%!

“We suffocate under words, images, and sounds, which have no reason to exist, they come from the void and go towards the void. A truly worthy artist should be asked for nothing but this act of sincerity: to educate himself to silence.” – from Frederico Fellini’s 8 1/2

This piece in the Hugh Lane Gallery was created by Dublin-based artist and curator Gavin Murphy and designed by Oran Day in 2010. Perhaps my favorite part of this piece is the way it’s arranged – words run left to right in each row, going down the wall, in order of the sentence. It can become a new sentence, though, a new thought, depending on the way you’re looking at the artwork. Additionally, by making the piece out of laser-cut acrylic, the concept of coming from and going towards the void is made clear (pun not intended). The quote is self-reflexive, and the piece in the Gallery allows you to get out of it what you put into it.

I wanted to do a bit more research about the movie that the quote is from, and perhaps why this quote was specifically chosen for this piece. Below is a brief storyline:

Guido is a film director, trying to relax after his last big hit. He can’t get a moment’s peace, however, with the people who have worked with him in the past constantly looking for more work. He wrestles with his conscience, but is unable to come up with a new idea. While thinking, he starts to recall major happenings in his life, and all the women he has loved and left. An autobiographical film of Fellini, about the trials and tribulations of film making.

The quote displayed in the piece comes from the end of the film, as Guido (and by extension, Fellini) is still contemplating his life and his film-making – emphasizing art for the enjoyment of it instead of a constant expectation to earn money or to please the public. Even this piece of art stands against that idea – it’s made of clear plastic with solid wood pieces, and if you’re staring at it head on or just walking past it, you don’t get to appreciate its beauty – and it especially stood out surrounded by other pieces, many of which were commissioned.

Anytime I visit a new city, a new place, I try and immerse myself into the culture as best I can – read (or at least purchase) local authors’ books, eat the local food, and listen to local music. While I loved the Literary Pub Crawl, I think tonight’s Musical Pub Crawl won me over. As a singer/musician, music holds a special place in my heart, and hearing and seeing the passion these two gentlemen had tonight for their music was perfect. You could tell they love what they do and love getting their passion out to as many people as possible.

One of my favorite parts about Irish music is how quickly it can worm its way into your heart. It’s nearly impossible to passively listen to it – you either tap your foot, clap your hands, sing along, dance, or think about your own memories in relation to the lyrics. I think in that way, its incredible the power Irish music has in transporting you to different memories and places. I know when I listen to any of the songs they played this evening, I’ll remember how wonderful they were and how much fun this pub crawl was, but also what the music made me feel and what it made me think of. Irish music is so full of passion and drive that it’s impossible to forget.

I knew before walking into No’s Knife that I would either love it or hate it. I’m glad to say I absolutely adored it, but I wanted to find some quotations from reviewers that hated it:

“The speech was so fast and woven tightly together, I think it was definitely aimed at literary audiences as opposed to a general audience.”

“Here’s the thing about No’s Knife. It’s extremely intense and completely baffling. I consider myself a fairly intelligent person and studied English but this was basically indecipherable. I spent the entire performance mystified, quite frustrated and wondering what I would eat for dinner. I don’t think I’d be alone in saying that it went on a bit.”

“To the one gentleman who gave a standing ovation at the end, if you understood it so well, perhaps you could explain it to the rest of us?”

One thing was universally true: Lisa Dwan absolutely fantastic. No matter how anyone felt about the play itself, the performance was unreal. While her interpretation of Beckett was much more intense and schizophrenic than mine, her ability to switch between different characteristics and play with the scenery and sound was impeccable. Her interpretation made Beckett what he should be – the play isn’t meant to be followed, it’s meant to be experienced. You may relate to some parts and not to others, and your neighbors in the theatre may be the exact opposite, and that sparks a conversation that will last long after the play is over. The part most interesting to me, past the dialogue, was Dwan’s legs – were those leggings? Body paint? Did I see them correctly as gangrenous legs with bloody gashes? What exactly is that supposed to mean – something different for everyone, like the dialogue itself?

While I don’t have answers to these questions, I think that Beckett’s Texts for Nothing and, thus, No’s Knife, absolutely stand to represent each person’s reflection on his or her own life and their experiences. The gravely breathing sound track that ran during the entire time before the play started and at every scene change was certainly meant to worm into the audience members’ brains and create tension that lasted throughout the play – similar to the feeling I got while reading Texts for Nothing.