Global Art

Today I had the opportunity to visit the National Gallery.  I really enjoyed my earlier visit to the Hugh Lane and today to the National Galleries.  The art in this city is amazing.  Dublin had a huge boom in the arts at the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th.  This is my very favorite time period for all artistic mediums, so there is a lot here for me to enjoy.  Both the art galleries that we have visited have had on display some amazing pieces by Irish painters.  I have especially liked the works of Jack Yeats, W.B. Yeats’ younger brother, and Paul Henry, a post-impressionist landscape artist.

There is an interesting balance in the galleries between Irish works and other european artists.  There is certainly an emphasis on painters from Ireland that I have found refreshing and that is sometimes not found in other galleries in other cities.  However, I also find interesting the pride the gallery takes in its other european works.  For example, the National Gallery has a nice collection of paintings from the Dutch school, including a Vermeer.  In the gift shop, I found a lovely bookmark with “Irish National Gallery” printed on it, along with a reproduction of the Vermeer painting.  The Dutch school of painting has a very distinct look and is linked to a distinct place.  I find it interesting, then, that they chose this piece of art to include on the bookmark.  Of course a Vermeer would be expensive, and for a gallery to own one is something to advertise.  But it seems strange to me that this would be a greater point of pride for the gallery than the excellent work done by Dubliners and Irish painters.  Which is more impressive for a National Gallery, owning an expensive piece of art that has no connection to the nation or an exquisite but under appreciated artist from that place?

Paul Henry from national gallery.ie

Jack B Yeats, image from nationalgallery.ie

Vermeer, Lady Writing a Letter, image from national gallery.ie

Free is the way it should Be

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One of my favorite parts of this day that was filled with museums, good food and company was the Museum of Natural History. Sandwiched between two massive buildings, the entrance is setback from the road with a green space that displays hedge ornaments, preluding what awaits inside. When I walked in and passed through the two double doors I was instantly surrounded by stuffed dead things and it was awesome! The first floor makes its way from enormous deer skeletons down to the smallest creatures that dwell the ocean. Large sharks hang from the ceiling and baby one’s rest inside blue jars that magnetize their baby shark face So you can really see all the details. You aren’t disappointed after exploring the first floor, but the real gems of this museum reside upstairs. A combination of full homo sapien and primate skeletons greet you at the top of the stairs and just past this case are all of the largest land mammals just inches from your face. Never would I think I could look a polar bear, tiger and lion in the eye (in one day) and live to tell the tale. I snapped a few pictures of a cat skeleton, the part of my feline friends I did not expect to see in Ireland and a display of half a human brain. These were two of my favorite displays because both are prominent parts of my life I never thought I’d get to see The gory details of. The best part about this whole museum experience is the fact that it was completely free. I can’t imagine living in a city where you have free access to education and the cultures that make up our world.

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#dubbelgsu

 

Shared Places: Cabin & Beans

In his poem “Lake Isle of Innisfree,” W.B. Yeats writes “a small cabin build there, of clay / and wattles made: / Nine bean-rows will I have there” (lines 2-3). When I read this poem again for class, I couldn’t help thinking of the similarities between these lines and Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, where Thoreau builds a small cabin in the Concord woods. Like Yeats’ “bean-rows,” Thoreau details his attempts to grow and harvest beans in “Bean-fields.” I was curious to the connection between Yeats’ poem and Thoreau’s Walden.

When I explored the Yeats exhibit at the National Library, I found Yeats’ copy of Walden in a display case. Although I was annoyed that the exhibit spelled Thoreau’s name “Henri,” I will thrilled to see this copy not only because it relates to my academic interests, but it also enlightened me of the place connection between the two writers. It was a serendipitous moment for me to stumble upon a piece of Thoreau in a Yeats exhibit in Dublin (especially considering some of his negative depictions of Irish immigrants).

Both Thoreau and Yeats portray an idealized place-a secluded house surrounded by nature and simplicity. Where Yeats’ place exists in his “heart’s core,” Thoreau experienced this place first hand. However, it is interesting that both works have similar images of a place. How do two different writers share a place or the idea of a place? We have discussed this notion of shared places in class, but I’m also interested in the shared places of Yeats and Thoreau. It seems like Yeats’ image of the cabin and beans directly references Thoreau’s Walden and his project to “live deliberately;” but why? I’m looking forward to further exploring Yeats, Thoreau, and their shared place.image

Mean, Green Nineteen

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Green Nineteen is one of the best restaurants I’ve ever eaten at. A locally produced ingredients based restaurant, Green Nineteens off kilter, creative reinterpretation of classic food s like cheese burgers and onion rings blew me away. Their vegetables were imbued with the warmth of having been freshly plucked from under a rare warm and sunshiney Dublin day, and they were ripe to perfection. This blog post isn’t going to focus on the food quality of what I strongly suspect is a contender for best restaurant in Dublin, however. It will instead focus on the way food informs my understanding of place and my place in place.

 

Every time I move to a new place, I know there will be one specific food that in going to miss. Whether it’s from a particularly good restaurant or a combination of unique local ingredients, there’s always something that I’ll miss enormously. In Burlington, Vermont, for instance, there’s an all-night sandwich  shop near the edge of Church Street in Burlington, Vermont. I get powerful cravings for their Cajun Chicken Philly Cheeseseteaks. I crave, at times, the Croque Madames of Paris, and at other times the biscuits and red-eye gravy of my native Appalachias. Whenever I think of a place, I think of its food first, and there seems to be something in food, I think, that reveals the soul of a place. The rules of place often seem to be outlined by the rules of places’ foods and getting to the heart of place can be done most pleasurably through food.

I am?

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I’m the oldest kid of two parents who went through really horrid childhoods, so I was constantly trying to be better than I was.  This would be a good thing if I had known when to stop, but I hadn’t, so I just saw what was faulty.  When I think about what aspects that I got from other people, I seem to focus only on the negative.  I got a bad temper from my dad; my grandfather gave me his arrogance; my mom made me untrusting; all of them passed on to me their want for addiction.  It wasn’t until this last few months that I started to analyze the great aspects that they gave to me too.  My dad taught me that if it isn’t my business, then I need to back off;  my grandpa taught me to try everything, even if I’m not great at it (or terrible even); my mom gave me an open mind.  I am a massive conglomerate of all that is around me, but this is my greatest strength.  I have the power to learn and adapt.

Dublin’s Natural History Museum

I didn’t imagine I would visit a place on this trip where I gawked at figure after figure of antique taxidermy. But I did. The Natural History Museum in Dublin is both startling and intriguing. Though saying it might be a stretch, the museum is even oddly beautiful. Being from the American South, I’ve seen a lot of animals both alive in nature and mounted on the walls of family and friends. Where I come from, the white-tail deer is the animal that people hunt the most—albeit for the sustenance and not only sport. The food harvested from the animals mounted in the Natural History Museum likely would have been donated to the local towns around where they were killed. Such is still the custom. But I assume many of the animals would have killed solely for sport or culling or displaying.

Don’t get me wrong. Seeing the animals was so interesting. But something about the mass collection of the dead was eerie. Obviously, I’ve never stood so close to animals such as large cats, hippopotamuses, whales, bears, etc, so the moment was educational and eye-opening. But my eyes were opened wider to my place in the world and, more importantly, the place that animals fill in the world. I eat meat. I have for all my life. But in recent years I’ve become more sensitive (if not sensitive, than definitely considerate) to where the meat that I enjoy comes from. People often argue over shared space, claiming that those spaces should be negotiated with manners and kindness.

When I stand face-to-face with a terrifying and beautiful animal such as this hippo, I think about how the space that we should be sharing with the animals around us is often seized or destroyed with little consideration of who would have called that home. Fortunately, over the years, others have become more concerned with the animals’ place in the world, leading to wildlife conservation and ethically-sourced meats and vegetables. But seeing the scores of cases and once-living statues of animals speaks to how they are still denied their rightful place aside humans.

 

NHM—Hippo

NHM—Room

NHM—Tiger

NHM—Bones

Me and Oscar and Mere Words

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Today, I did my reading in place in the corner of Merrion Square Park at the statue of Oscar Wilde. I chose a passage from Dorian Gray, which ended with, “Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?”

I love this quote, but I also chose it because it applies so much to this class and this place. We talk (obviously) about Irish literature, both how important it is to Irish history and how deeply ingrained it is into their culture. Words/literature are ways to attempt to control narrative in history. It is a way to make history tangible. As literature students, words are the way we make sense of the world around us. Words were how Oscar Wilde, James Joyce, and Yeats made sense of their life and the life of people around them. Words were their and our means of giving form to the seemingly formless.

I was also thinking about the Irish wanting to preserve their own language, and even the choice to make Irish the first language on road signs and maps is so deliberate and important to them. They are all just words, strung together beautifully in a novel about the history of a country or printed on a sign that has directions in English second. But they matter. There is nothing as “real as words.”

My photo is my reflection in the pillars in front of the Oscar Wilde statue today. The Wilde quotes on the pillars are copied from the personal handwriting of famous Irish people.