At the Hugh Lane Museum of Modern Art, Jesse Jones has an exhibit entitled No More Fun and Games. NMFG intends “to redress and renegotiate omissions in the historical canon of art.” This presentation is not a static piece, as we might assume of other pieces of art. Instead, Jones creates a dynamic experience for on-lookers. Her project seems to deal with minimalist ideas concerning the negative space of female representation in canonized art.

At first, the exhibition is confusing. The front desk of the show opens into a small room and then a large, white room. Jones includes speakers that play soft, soothing music, mounted on stands that face in all directions create an erratic pattern throughout the room. The huge walls, white and bare, create an eerie feeling of absence. After all, an art show should have drawings, photos, or paintings on the wall, right? The white room gives way to a room that has silver walls, reminiscent of aluminum foil or the industrial freezers we might see at a restaurant. In this room, Jones includes a few paintings, but still the inclusion is minimal.

Jones drags a floor-to-ceiling piece of cloth attached to a track overhead. It provides the image of woman’s arm and hand. I stand in the room and wait to see the impression it casts into the large white room. The cloth overlays the feminine over the represented absence of the empty walls. The experience moves me. Jones seems to be arguing that the work of women colors all art, even in places that may not seem to contain such art. She also creates a stark contrast between the blank walls of the white room and the obscurely reflective walls of the silver room, the first containing no art and the second housing only a few pieces.

The underrepresented nature of minority artists in cultural canons comes into focus through the work of Jones. As we discuss the importance of women in the politics surround Irish independent, we still understand how women are subtracted from the general discussion.

“Love, Peace

and Happiness

is this Possible

IN Belfast……?”

These words were plastered on a wall during our walk to Queen’s University Belfast. The street art caught my attention just as I was about to pass by. Illegally graffitied on the city building, the words open up new possibilities for those who might share the same ideologies. It also creates a place of contention for others.

The side an Irish person might fall on the divide between nationalist and unionist would determine how that person would respond to that statement. In Northern Ireland, people tend to lean one of two ways: Irish or British. Our tour guide that led us through Falls Road and Shankill Road told us how the real issue undergirding the Irish Troubles is not religious (i.e. Catholic vs. Protestant) but one about identity—identity found in either Britishness or Irishness.

The neighborhoods in west Belfast are divided by physical location—place of identity. While Falls road houses Catholics (those who identify as Irish), Skankill road houses Protestants (those who embrace their own Britishness). In these neighborhoods, the place constructed through desired identity is even complete with flags that either represent Ireland as a nation or give homage to Britain, revealing Unionist sentiments.

One of the best examples explained to us surrounds an Irishman named Stevie McKeag. In the Protestant are of Skankill, Stevie is decorated and commemorated as a war hero. A mural is displayed boldly in his honor. However, in the Catholic area of Falls road, Stevie is remembered as a murderer of not only those directly involved in the Troubles but innocent civilians. A plaque that commemorates the deaths of innocent people contains at least eight people known to be murdered by Stevie. Those names spanning Dominic O’Connor through Philomena Hanna are said to among his victims—same man, different place.

The move from Dublin to Belfast was quick. When we arrived in the new city, we went straightway from our bus to the hotel that would be home for the next few nights. Our hotel has all the necessities we need. Instead of having private rooms, we share rooms with other students. Harlow and I share a room.

We take a walk down to city hall and have an informative tour led by a jolly Irishman. He walks us through rooms where city operations still take place. He describes portraits that hang from walls and robes mounted in display cases. He describes what would take place in each room.

After the tour of city hall, we are free to walk around and explore. We decide to make our way to the Titanic museum. The walk is beautiful. We cross over the channel where locks allow boats to pass in and out. A couple boats wait anchored for the lock to fill and allow safe passage. So much of this city’s identity is wrapped up in industries dependent on its coastal nature.

We eventually make it down to where the Titanic would have been constructed and experienced its cast away from land. We walk the length of the ship and gaze out over the bay. We sit in silence until approaching rain clouds push us back to our feet and onward to dinner. Our group has grown comfortable together. Awkwardness of old has all but disappeared, and we now function as a group of old friends.